…
A tremble I can't hold back shoots up my arm, hitting the spot where Xaden has his gentle hold, and the feeling of concern knocks at the walls I've built around my Archives. Despite my wanting to share my thoughts with Xaden, I keep my shields as firmly in place as possible. His fury is still an aura, both along our bond and written on every chiseled line of his face, and with my own rage threatening to light the entirety of this palace on fire, I definitely don't need his anger spurring on my own.
The sooner we get alone, the better. For the hundredth time, I wish I hadn't left my conduit behind, and my fists are balled tightly enough to pinch my nails into my palms.
"Now…where does this leave us, Riorson?"
Seeing the Viscount's watery eyes and raw, welted neck fills my heart with no small amount of glee, and the way he sucks in breath after thankful breath is the icing on the cake.
"Now, we negotiate."
I focus on the hold Xaden has on my wrist, his thumb brushing where I'm sure my pulse is thundering Tairn's raw power through my veins. His hold is simply contact, not tight, not commanding. It's there only because he needs to know I'm standing beside him, not because he demands I stay at his side. And that's why I'll always be right here. Not because it's expected or demanded of me, but because he asks.
"P-please, yes," Tecarus stutters as his entourage circles and fawns, helping him to his feet. "I'll…I'll send attendants to assist with whatever you need." His gulp could be heard for miles as the man desperately tries to work his straining throat. I know how that feels, but fuck him. He's getting off lightly after trying to kill me. "Take an hour and we'll - we'll resume dinner and negotiations in the dining hall."
"We don't need an hour. We'll-" Brennan starts, but I interrupt with zero remorse.
Looping my fingers through Xaden's, "we'll take the hour," I growl over my shoulder and he falls quickly into step. Once we're out of sight I lower my shields just enough to let the shadowy tendrils that have been clawing for entrance rush in.
Anger, concern, surging power, and a demanding need flood the bond with a cacophony echo of the same question: "Are you okay?"
We both hear the rumble of thunder, and I feel his flinch. "You need to calm down. I can't handle your emotions mixing with my own right now." I immediately feel relief and am so thankful for his ability to not only listen, but be able to shield so much better than I can.
"Are. You. Okay?" His grip on my hand tightens in time with his punctuated words, and for the moment, he's the only thing keeping me grounded.
"I have no fucking clue how to get back to the rooms," I admit, a red haze clouding my mind as I head toward a split t-shaped hallway ahead of us. With Cat fucking around in my head, I didn't at all pay attention of how we got to the dining hall.
"Left," his voice was a soft caress that did very little to push away the red filtering into my system.
I turn. We're almost there. I recognize this hallway.
"Xaden!" I fight to quell the immediate flare of cracking, thunderous fury that pulses in a wave from my heart to my extremities, and with the sudden way that Xaden's whole body goes rigid beside me, I know I just flooded our connection with all of the same raw emotions that I asked him to get under control moments earlier.
Cat's voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and I feel burgeoning power press hard against my Archive door. Mentally shoving myself against it before I set this whole palace on fire, I ground both feet onto the conjured marble floors and do everything I can to keep that door closed.
We both turn to look at the two sisters at the end of the hallway. Cat's ornate red dress swishes when she stops dead in her tracks, Syrena's hand tightly wrapping around her upper arm. Without even looking, I know Xaden's fired off one of his, 'fuck around and find out,' death glares.
"I didn't know," Cat promises, her elder sister nodding in agreement, panic written across both faces. "I promise. Trust me as you used to - please, you know I'd never lie to you."
The familiarity she uses causes power to push, but I hold it back. My focus, however, is on my Archives - not on keeping control of my emotions down in our bond.
"She won't be able to lie if I rip out her fucking tongue."
His anger rises to match mine, though he tamps it down quickly. "Graphic. In this instance, I approve."
Tairn's voice is a boom in both our heads, which I only know because of the surprised squeeze of Xaden's fingers. "Well I disapprove. You're better than this, and you won the day. Separate from them immediately and get yourselves together."
It's undoubtedly Sgaeyl's words in Tairn's voice, and I'm sure the message is from both our dragons. It's solid advice and I decide to take it.
The fuming man at my side chooses to not.
"Xaden," I growl-plead into his mind the moment he unlaces our fingers, and the steps he takes away from me feel ominously larger than the actual distance.
"These fucking people think they still have my trust?!"
"Don't." I know I'm being demanding. I know he doesn't respond well to demanding. I don't care.
His steps falter, but he doesn't stop. Cat, to her credit, is holding her ground, though Syrena is smarter than Cat. She has her hand half-heartedly on the hilt of a dagger and has taken a small half step in front of her sister.
"Xaden," I say aloud with a sharpness that gives away my frustration and growing need for escape. I follow it up by dropping my shields to send another pulse of relief and love through our bond knowing full well that I just commanded he obey; demanded the unyielding leader of the resistance do exactly that: yield. "Don't."
He stops and tilts his head my way, and I can feel the shadowy strand in my mind fray at the edges. I can't hold back my thoughts after reopening that path, and a crack is forming in the door of my Archives where I struggle to hold back the torrent of emotion-driven thoughts blocking Tairn's power from surging into the open.
"...all a fucking show…I will rend these marble halls to the ground…can't hold it much longer…I. Will. Burn. It. Down…"
The speed he turns on his heel courses relief through me, the bonus being the utter defeat on Cat's face and the way it drops her perfectly postured shoulders.
His fingers link through mine and I toss open the door letting it hit the wall with a thud. The blessed silence that follows when he closes it is short lived as I kick the sopping wet slippers in some direction across the room and pad barefoot over to my rucksack.
In a moment as unhinged as I feel, I dump the contents onto the overstuffed armchair where the bag had been tossed earlier in the evening, and I scatter spare clothes, flight leathers, even a couple of books to the padded sofa as well as the floor around my feet.
"Violence?"
Closed floor to ceiling double glass doors that open to a stone terrace stand on the opposite side of the room. They block the cool evening air, but the sudden shudder of lightning across the sky and the answering call of thunder sparks me to freeze and close my eyes in an effort to get everything back in control as it slips farther and farther away from me.
"Shit. Okay, I get it."
He is one of the last calming things I think I can hold onto, and finally seems to get the picture.
A wisp of shadow silently drifts past while I tear into my belongings without a care for how neatly I'd packed them earlier in the day. From the corner of my eye I see the conduit ride into view while cradled in a dark tendril, and the moment my fingers clutch it I growl and tense as the ball glows white hot as I imbue the alloy inside with every ounce of rage I have.
I don't think I've ever surged this much energy into this thing before, and I'm fully prepared for shattering glass as I fling open the doors of my Archive and let the power burn me on the way out. Drops of water still clinging to my skin evaporate in a thousand tiny sizzles, and strands of the suddenly drying hair stuck to my shoulders rise with the burst of electricity that surrounds me like a shield.
I need to move.
I stalk to the other side of the room. To Xaden, I must look like a mad woman as I clutch the conduit and imbue the alloy with the build-up of fury-tempered power. I close my eyes and attempt to calm my out of control mind - to refind my center. Xaden asks something, but it barely registers. All I can think to do to find my way back is by reciting something from a less useless book than many others from my Scribe training days.
"The stone of the Braevick Province west of the Dunness River is known for its glimmering luster, ability to reflect sunlight due to the larger quantities of quartzite, and a lack of magical essence because of its proximity to the Barrens."
The facts ground me and I feel the disarray in my mental Archives begin to right as the tension eases from my shoulders. I still have a death grip on the glass ball, and I can dimly feel the burn of the metal bands that hold it all together as it superheats against my palm. I don't care and lean into the burn, my knuckles white with strain.
"Legend states that hoards of Venin before the last great war drained the essence from everything, including the quarries, leaving behind bare earth and rotted vegetation. All that remains is beautiful, hollow stone fit only for the creatures of fables."
It was working. Well, either it or the lessening of power from Tairn as I ground and swing the mind doors closed bit by bit.
"The marble cannot be imbued, nor can it be magically repaired. The stone is dead, but still glimmers in the light of day beckoning many provinces, especially Krovland and Braevick, to quarry the empty marble for celestially ornate palaces."
A quiet begins to form as the blood that was thrumming in my ears returns through my veins to my extremities.
"I…didn't know that," Xaden's voice is quiet, and pulls me back to the present, though I still can't really comprehend words.
"What?"
He'd been leaning against the closed bedroom door to give me space and let me sort through my thoughts and feelings, and only now decided to move. Dragging my eyes from his feet in a sweep up his wound-too-tight body, I find two endless pools of onyx glittering with fury and lust, and it makes my heart flutter and my pulse quicken. The concern and love I see warring for dominance hits me with the reminder that before everything went to hell, we were fighting.
And suddenly, it's not the conduit I want to throw every emotion at, it's him. Because I know he can take it. Instead, he answered the question I've already forgotten I asked, not to mention the context behind it all.
"About the rock of Tecarus' amphitheater. I…I didn't know that."
The fear that had a grip on him earlier is still there, a thin veneer holding his anger back from doing exactly what he wants to do - grab and hold me to ensure that I'm still alive. Possibly remind me of what being alive actually means, and the thought races fire from the nape of my neck to the base of my spine.
"It's all that saved you," I whisper angrily. "It's why I told you to stay above - why I sent Brennan to the steps with Mira." I'm dimly aware of my cooling skin, my Archive doors closed as the power from my dragon cuts off. Water dripping from strands of my hair hits the open skin of my back, my shoulders, my chest, and a shiver runs through me as I come back to the present from wherever the power had taken me.
The shake of his head is angry, though his face is full of pain. "You shouldn't have tried to do that on your own. Gods, Violet. Do you know how terrifying that was? To stand there and watch?"
I don't recognize the voice that comes out of my throat when I speak. "The last person who protected me in a fight is gone, and I won't ever let that happen again."
I know the pain that lances through me also goes through his heart, and I'm barely aware of the thud as the conduit hits the floor and rolls before my fists are clutching the soft, breathable cotton of his tunic and yanking him down as I surge up.
I crash his mouth over mine, a small zap of static to both our lower lips complementing the sudden shimmering heat that burrows into my veins as deep as my channeled magic. As his mouth parts with a groan my tongue invades to clash with his, and I part my hands from one another with a sharp motion. My grip at his tunic on either side of the stained black, expensive, ivory buttons never loosens, so they give way in the sudden strain.
A growl - an actual growl rumbles up from his throat to vibrate against my claiming mouth at the skittering sound of those expensive buttons as they're flung to every corner of the ostentatious room.
"I hate this fucking place." I speak through our bond because my mouth is busy as my teeth bite his lower lip, perhaps a little harder than I should have, but the digging of his fingers into my hips as he grinds himself into my stomach tells me he doesn't really mind.
"I hate these selfish people," my fingernails rake down the newly bared bronze skin of his chest, red lines left in their wake as I drag another of those delicious sounds from his mouth.
"I hate these godsdamned clothes," I pull free the rest of the tunic tucked neatly behind the tight buckle of his belt. My legs tremble as I hold myself high enough to suck and bite at the column of his throat when he stands nearly to his full height. He pulls back just long enough to yank the shirt from my hands and rend the left side from the right, a definite rip indicating that the final few buttons didn't want to give in, but the fabric was more than happy to split.
A burst of heat floods my core as he meets my rage head-on, each of us offering an outlet to one another in the safest way we know.
"I'm still so fucking mad at you," I admit, surprising myself only slightly. I am still mad at him, as I'm sure he's still mad at me. This should take care of that, and I suck a little harder into the straining muscle at the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Tunic shredded and tossed, his hands are back on me and I tremble with the need for them to be everywhere, pressing into my skin with bruising bites that remind me that I made it out of that fight - that I'm his despite everything still unsaid between us. Long fingers dive into the hair at the nape of my neck, cupping the back of my head and holding tight as the other wraps around the top of my throat. His thumb on one side brushes the spot where my jaw meets my ear, the fingers on the other spreading from the thundering pulse I know he can feel with his pinky to the slight squeeze of his middle and pointer fingers against the angle of my jaw and cheek. He shakes with restraint, which I decide I need to put a stop to, and both lifts my chin and pulls at my hair to tilt my head back, our breaths coming as hot gasps shared between swollen lips.
"I'm so fucking glad you're alive. You can be mad at me all you want."
"Good." Even my voice in his mind is a sultry growl as I rise again to smash our lips together, tongues and teeth joining the fray.
Every one of his abdominal muscles tense under enough of a scrape of my nails as I journey downward where I bury them into the waistband of his trousers, pulling him flush against my body. Not a breath of anything separates us save for the nearly ruined Deverelli silk dress I'm surprisingly still wearing.
I'm not sure where or how, but I know we're moving. My feet are apparently cooperating, and only when I feel the sharp bite of wood into my back do I recognize that we're across the room and I'm pressed insistently against the half-height dresser. It rocks back with the force of the two of us, the resounding thud against the wall hollow in a room filled only with the sounds of need and harsh breathing.
No. I want control. I'm not the one holding back. I'm the one that almost died parading as a clown for Tecaris. I'm the one that endured Cat's mindfuckery and then blasted that Venin onto Malek's doorstep. While I have no doubt that he also needs this, I fucking need this. I need him.
Planting my palms firmly against his pectorals, I push. Hard.
He had absolutely not planned for that, and his weight was fully settled on the balls of his feet while towering above me. I hear a tinkling crash and know whatever trinkets and baubles they'd decorated the top of the dresser with had been made of glass and were now irreparably smashed from the tottering back and forth of the furniture.
His balance is lost, probably a first for Xaden Riorson, but my aim was true. Surprise and a hint of panic momentarily dulls the lust in his wide eyes when he falls backside first into the overstuffed cushion of the sofa-like armchair that sits to the right of the dresser in the room's small sitting area. Momentum carries him backward, the front wooden legs rising off the floor as the back ones groan under the sudden strain, but his reflexes kick in and he plants his feet onto the thick wool rug. A quick jerk of his torso forward keeps the chair from tipping, and while he centers himself, I move his way.
"Yes, please." The pure sex dripping in his voice pulls a hum from my mind across the bond that may have been both heard and felt as I watch his eyes darken around the shining spots of gold.
His hands reach forward and I fully expect his fingers digging into my hips or backside, but the sound of fabulously expensive and insanely rare silk fabric tearing overshadows our panting for each other. He grabs both sides of the flowing skirt and sunders it completely, straight up to my waist where bare pale skin greets his wide eyes.
"I had more than one way to win the argument tonight," I explain breathlessly, my hands gripping his shoulders as he reaches inside the torn fabric to touch my rain-chilled skin. I straddle his lap, settling my knees into the soft cushion at the right and left of his thighs, the chair groaning beneath us. It definitely wasn't made for what we're about to do, but that's the least of my worries.
I dive my fingers roughly into his hair, the satiny strands tangled from the wind earlier, and then his tongue is in my mouth, his hands are roaming the curve of my spine to my shoulders, and I'm grinding my center against the straining bulge behind the cotton swallowing his groan. I know he can feel the heat, the wetness pooling there, and I abandon his hair to venture down to where I'm sure the leather of the belt digs painfully into his stomach.
His fingers grip the straps of the gown at my shoulders and after two small rips, the fabric falls between us to pool above my breasts where they're pressed against his chest. I pull from his mouth to sit up and allow a breath between us for the silk to slide down around my waist. His hands instantly surround both peaks while his mouth peppers pink marks across my collarbone and shoulder.
The relieved groan when I loosen his belt buckle causes his forehead to thud against my shoulder and his breaths to blow across where his hands were massaging my breasts, the spot between his thumb and palm pinching the pebbled nipples until they were painfully hard.
The moment he was freed from the cloth prison, the solid length of him slapped against his stomach. I pull another, deeper, lower growl out of him when I waste no time, wrapping my hand around his shaft just below the swollen head and rising up on strong thighs. A rolling soft wave of power dances across every bit of my skin as I sink down over each exquisite inch until our hips touch.
"Fuck, Violet," he groans into my mind and I would echo the statement if my damn mouth or brain worked. Only now, when I'm as close to him as I can possibly be, do I feel the rage from earlier begin to ebb. Only now, when I feel him in my very soul can I begin to settle, and that's all before I've managed to even move my hips.
His hands cupping my cheeks open my eyes. I have no idea when I'd let them slip closed. I break through his soft grip and reclaim his mouth with plundering efficiency, my tongue sweeping through to meet his with an insistent push as I lift with my thighs and start a quick pace taking him deep and hard. Every nerve in my body fires over and over again, and the rush that goes to my head feels better than any strike I've ever called from the sky. Our mouths snap apart and he dives for my throat while I wrap my arms around his neck, one hand clinging to his shoulder blade as the other clutches a fistfull of hair, holding his head to where his tongue, sucking lips, and teeth worship that little spot beneath my ear.
From how far back he is in the chair, I knew he can't thrust to meet my hips, and the feeling of his straining arms as they wrap around me give away his want to take back control. To be honest, I miss the way his hips snap against mine as he would drive himself deeper and deeper. So I cling to his warmth and ride him hard into the chair, his face buried in my neck as he groans his pleasure against my flushed skin.
My orgasm rises quickly, and I feel like the tension of the day is set to snap from the middle of my core to the center of my chest. When he abandons his spot wrapped around my back to settle his hands beneath my ass and lift me up, rolling waves of ecstasy jolt through me as he digs his fingers in before yanking me back down until our hips slap together.
Release cracks through me, a bright flash snuffed by cool dark shadow, and I feel him maintain his grip on my backside but let me set the pace as I fill the room with my cries and drag from him groans and words of praise and comfort. I felt his control fray both underneath me and across our bond, and I know where his fingers dig into my flesh that my favorite bruises will appear tomorrow.
I go limp against his chest and give it all up, clinging to him as he pushes and pulls me roughly over his cock. Another shimmering climax builds in my center, and the way I spot swirls of shadow spilling out around the chair below us, Xaden is seconds away from losing that carefully crafted control that I so love to shatter. The feeling of my stomach dropping and gravity shifting are normal when I'm in his arms, but when everything inside us shatters and my power snaps from me to be chased by his dark explosion, I realize when I open my eyes that we are much more horizontal than we'd started.
And much lower to the floor.
I'm sure I'll feel the pain in my knees from where they've landed awkwardly against the back of the chair. The groan from Xaden below me is only somewhat familiar, and the strain I hear as he tries to suck in a breath tells me that he's had the wind knocked out of him. If anyone would know, it's me. Willing the haze of satisfaction away, I take in my surroundings and find that either with our rocking and misuse of the furniture, or with the loss of control from either or both of us, the legs of the chair gave up and toppled the whole thing back-first to the floor.
Which is where we're at right now.
"As worried as they were that I would ruin this place, I'm not sure this is what they had in mind," I confess.
His laugh was breathless and ended in a groan, his head flopping back against the padding of what was left of the chair.
"I hate these chairs. If we stay the night, we'll take out the one in my room too."
…