…

Agitation fills every fiber of my being as I sit in this fucking assembly chamber and listen to Ulices drone on and on about defenses. I flew in three hours ago after being gone nearly a week and they pulled me into an assembly meeting two seconds after I bathed. No rest for the weary, I suppose.

Like they don't ignore what I have to say half the time anyway and make their own choices.

"Maybe become the Duke and they'll listen."

I roll my eyes in my mind at my dragon.

Technically, I'd been back home three days ago. However, the single hour where I'd barely managed to peel myself out of the flight leathers before being asked to report and then scrambled to fly back out doesn't count. I hadn't even seen Violet in that hour as she was out on flight maneuvers, and every single inch of me demands that I walk out of this asinine meeting, drag her to our room, and have neither of us leave for three days.

Assembly, venin, Aretia, and especially Navarre be damned.

"Are you even listening?" Suri's snappy voice growls in my direction where I'm no doubt driving several of them crazy with the way I slouch in the seat and appear to be bored to death.

"Not particularly, but I do agree that while we work on researching the wards through translating Warrick's journal, we need to make sure we're rotating out the riots so we don't have our best riders suffer from burnout."

I guess I was paying more attention than they gave me credit for. As planned, the focus shifts to arguing about everyone in Aretia wasting their time waiting for Cadet Sorrengail to finish her little transcribing project - and that's when I tune them back out.

"Smart," Sgaeyl approves.

"You like that?"

Any mention of Violet gets me an uninterrupted at least twenty minutes in these meetings for Suri and Ulices to go nuts about why we're trusting a Sorrengail, why we've put our survival into the hands of a second-year cadet, blah, blah, blah.

It's twenty minutes of my life I never end up getting back, and though their insults used to bring my shadows out, I now know them for what they are: a fear response. They're terrified that the five-foot-nothing love of my life knows more than they do.

Which the brilliant fucking woman absolutely does.

While they grumble, my eyes land on Brennan at the other end of the table, and I take a moment to read him. 'Yeah, yeah, I know. Big, bad, scary Violet Sorrengail.' A smirk pulls the corner of my mouth up before I swap my focus to Ulices, who's giving his undivided attention to Kylynn for whatever reason. I'm not listening.

'We can send him to patrol between Draithus and Athbyne with his Riot in the morning, if not sooner -' I shield up, feeling anger bubble to the surface and make my relic itch.

"I'm busy, as should you be," Sgaeyl growls through my shields before an impenetrable wall of blue crystal shuts her path off, and I'm thankful she's blocking me out for her tryst with Tairn.

I might actually die if they put any of those emotions into me with how badly I've craved getting my hands on Violet. Two weeks of missed schedules, long flight paths separating us, her class schedules and maneuvers and -

"Everything okay?"

Gods, her voice is a balm for my weary soul. I feel my frustration ebb. I don't keep from closing my eyes and heaving a sigh. It'll just look like I'm not paying attention again.

"Based on that reaction, I can guess. Are they sending you back out?" The frustration in her voice is there, but we're both being fueled by longing at the moment, neither bothering to hide it.

I groan across our bond just for her, "not yet but they're definitely thinking about it."

"Well, if they ask to meet with me again, give whatever excuse you need to. I'm busy."

My curiosity is piqued. "Meaning…"

"Meaning, no more fucking backfiring runes. No more damn flight maneuvers through the frigid mountains. No more meetings with them where they simultaneously ask for my help and then insult every inch of me, which Ulices loves to point out isn't very many inches."

I want to laugh but hold back knowing it would draw way too much attention.

"No more new stances in sparring on sore joints. No more sitting in that insufferable wardstone room reading tiny handwriting in ancient languages. I don't even want to hear the name Warrick."

I wait a moment. "Anything else you'd like me to pass along?"

My body begins to warm at the thought of spending any amount of time that these assholes will give me between her thighs. My pulse rises at the thought of her fingernails digging into my shoulders and back, and the leathers tighten at my waist when I think of that breathy little way she says my name in my ear when -

"Riorson?"

Shit.

Suri looks expectant, and when I pop my eyes open and look around, I lean into pretending that I'd just fallen asleep. If they could feel my heart beating against my ribs they'd know differently, but fuck if I'll let anyone here close enough to figure that out.

Violet's sigh is a feeling, as is her eye roll, and I continue our internal conversation despite the assembly staring me down.

Dropping my voice to that 'scraped through gravel' timbre that I know for a fact sends her pulse racing, I say, "with none of that on the table, what else is there, I wonder?"

I add a sleepy drawl to my outside voice and respond to the assembly. "I'm pretty sure by now you know exactly what I'm going to say. I'm exhausted. My…apologies."

"There's a lot else. What are your plans for the next twelve hours?" Well she certainly isn't helping this situation, and I know for sure that a sheen of sweat is going to break out on every bit of exposed skin if I can't get out of this Gods damned room.

Ulices relents. "Fine. But I need your report from the south."

"And after that, I need to plan three flights for the drifts and riots over the next two days with you," Brennan follows up and I try hard to keep from going full, fucking, death glare on the lot of them.

"Fucking meetings, apparently."

"Well, that's unfortunate. I have locked myself behind the wards of our bedroom and will be climbing into a skin-melting, muscle relaxing, bubble bath. You are welcome to join me when you're done - I'll still be in here. Guaranteed."

And then she's gone. Her fucking shields are up.

I ground two feet onto my Aretian hillside to confirm as every heartbeat that pushes magma through my veins heats me to cooking inside these leathers.

Sgaeyl's path is still blocked by her impenetrable wall of crystal, and the onyx one that connects me to Tairn is surrounded by a wall of black stone. Violet's silver path lacks the sparkling shine and is barely visible. I could still follow it to her if I really needed to, but I don't.

I know exactly where the fuck she is. I know exactly how much fucking skin she's stripping down to.

"Can we do this tomorrow morning?" I don't want to sound like I'm begging. I don't.

I try my hardest to sound like I'm tired despite the fact that if they agree, I'm staying up for the next twelve hours because that's what she suggested.

My question falls on deaf ears, and I know that I'm at least an hour away from Violet and her damn bubble bath.

…

She wasn't kidding when she said she would still be there. The moment I step to the threshold and lean against the doorframe she cracks one hazel eye open and a slow smile curves her kissable lips.

The room is bathed in light from nearly a dozen candles she's lit and spread around, and it brings the amber out in her eyes in a way that makes me desperately want to bring the blue through like it does when we're finished - if there's even such a thing.

"Finally free?"

I don't have the heart to tell her that Brennan only gave me thirty minutes. Instead, I drag the chair from the writing desk into the room and set it next to the large claw foot tub in the center of the floor.

Ostentatious, I believe, was my exact word when they'd put the monstrosity into this room all those years ago. The shower was fine, I didn't need a fucking tub.

My first bath with Violet? Yeah. I've thanked Zihnal every day since then. God of luck, indeed.

"You're -" she sighs, "not getting in." It's a fact, not a question, and I nod.

The popping bubbles that hide everything save for her neck and head from my view is a fascinating background noise, and she lifts her arm from the water to reach for the cup of wine sitting precariously nearby.

The sip leaves a drop of blood-red liquid sitting on her lower lip and I fight every urge to lean in and pull that lip into my mouth. She offers me the cup and I accept, taking a mouthful of the rich yet sharp berry taste.

Her eyes close once more as she tips her head back against the cloth that rests at the edge of the tub, and I have unfettered access to every beautiful line of her. She'd gathered what she could of that amazing fucking hair and pinned it in a messy bun at the top of her head, and I've never wanted to dive my fingers in and let it all down as much as I do right now.

Wet tendrils that had refused to cooperate were sticking to her skin or falling into the bubbles surrounding her shoulders, and I wonder how serious Brennan was with his threat.

"If you aren't back in thirty minutes, she goes into the barracks with every other second-year cadet."

I take another sip of the wine instead, then set the cup down within her easy reach. He probably means it.

She heaves a sigh and turns to look my way with a lazy longing, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the exposed skin of her shoulder from the moving of the bubbles. The flickering candlelight is making her eyes shift and change colors every other second. The few errant drops slipping back into the water make me want to trace the lines with my fingers. Or my tongue.

I plant my feet and slide the chair until my legs spread against the tub. The top of her shoulder is too tempting to leave untouched, and I lean forward to press my mouth against her water-warmed skin. It tastes of lavender, and the sweet scent of it is overwhelmingly hot.

Past the noise of the bubbles I can hear the sudden intake of her breath and flick my eyes up to see that hers are closed, and those pouted lips, red from wine, are parted. Gods damn I'll never get enough of her.

Despite my better judgment and knowing that the literal clock is ticking, I follow the line of her shoulder with my mouth up toward that little spot on her neck that gets her weak in the knees. The way her head tilts just a bit, probably without her even realizing it, fills me with something that's a heady mix between the best churam and chocolate cake I've ever had.

The soft moan shoots straight to my cock, and I'm glad I was smart enough to loosen the leathers a little before walking in. I'm also thankful that I had the wherewithal to pull the flight jacket off and leave me just in the cloth tunic, because I know with lethal certainty that I'm going to put my hands on her in the next ten seconds, water be damned.

I'm damning a lot of things tonight.

I slide my mouth to her neck and suck at the racing pulse I find there, but when pulling back I'm distracted by a strand of that fucking hair that's escaped from the rest and sticks wetly to her skin. Bringing my hand up, I drag the calloused pad along its meandering path down her throat and over her collarbone where it disappears into the raft of bubbles that separate the rest of her skin from my eyes.

But not from my hands.

When I break through the barrier of way-too-fucking-hot water, I fully understand the sheen of sweat and rosy glow of her skin. The wards on this tub are doing their job almost too well.

The water adds a unique friction as I drag my fingers over her skin, over her thundering heart. Blindly, I let my knowledge of her body guide me to the swell of her breast and my mouth stills against the sensitive spot just below her ear with a groan as I find the nipple pebbled against my palm despite the heat that surrounds it.

The water does most of the lifting, but it doesn't keep her from fitting perfectly in my hand as I stroke with varying pressures over that sensitive bud. I feel the wetness seep into the fabric of my tunic sleeve, and while I don't regret that I didn't roll it up any further than my damn forearm, I'm annoyed that I'll need to take the few moments to change into something dry instead of spending every last fucking moment with my hands on her before I have to leave.

It wasn't a promise that they weren't going to send me off on another flight. The best I got was a half-hearted, "we'll do our best." Fuck, that. Dunne himself isn't going to be able to keep me out of this room tonight.

I can't spend another minute not kissing her, but I force my mouth to make the journey along the line of her jaw. I've no doubt she knows my destination and meets me halfway, and I swallow her moan as I pinch the sensitive nipple between my fingers at the same time as I drag my tongue across the lower lip that's been taunting me since I walked in.

The way her mouth dances against mine and Gods, the taste of her mixed with the earthen wine nearly makes me risk every second of her brother's wrath and climb into this tub - into her - for the rest of the night. As I slide farther down her body, she breaks from my lips with a breathy exhalation of my name - and my heart soars at how easily I'm able to render this brilliant woman to single word sentences with one kiss.

Not that she doesn't also have the same ease, the same power over me.

Fuck it. One arm is already soaked, and I slide my other behind her to splay my hand against the back of her shoulders and keep her from just letting go to slip under the water. This also pulls her a bit closer to the surface, and that nipple that I'd just abandoned as I trace the lithe lines of her stomach lower and lower comes to the surface to harden against the cooler air above.

My position is shit, however, and despite my want to nearly break my ribs to get that perfect little peak into my mouth, I ignore it.

For now.

I spread my fingers crossing her lower stomach, and I hear the shift in her breathing as her eyes close. The arm I'm leaning over comes up from underneath to clutch just below my elbow, and she holds her breath as I near the spot where I know she wants me most.

She's stunning - all taut yet soft lines, those lips swollen from my mouth. I feel a throb against my leathers when she bites at her bottom lip in anticipation. As my fingers skim the soft skin I watch the emotions change like seasons across her face. Passing her center I divert and palm the inside of her thigh.

An annoyed little exhale leaves her lips and I can't help the grin or the low chuckle that rumbles out. Those eyes that drip amber like caramel narrow up at me, and the, "Xaden," she hits me with is more a threat than a caress.

"You like it." I only say it because it's true and nip at her bottom lip.

She's a moment away from grumbling something else when I sweep the pad of my finger against her from bottom to top, and that complaint turns into the whimpered version of my name, which is honestly one of my favorite ways that she says it.

I take my time, spreading the folds open as I feel the heat of her despite the water, and I can't help the groan that's pulled straight from my cock out onto her skin where I burrow and suck against the crook of her shoulder and neck.

I feel the hand against my forearm tighten, the bite of her fingernails dulled by the wet cotton of the shirt, the seeping water making it up to the crook of my elbow. I couldn't care less about a wet damn shirt as I leave a string of pink marks from her shoulder to her collarbone and then across.

As I circle her clit her head falls back against the tub and her back arches, but I hold and keep her from slipping, thankful I'd had at least a moment of intelligence to put my other arm behind her. The wanton sound that comes from her throat shoots need and want and demand through me, and I feel like I'm drowning despite all the water before me.

More of those half-silver strands have fallen loose from the pins, the tendrils landing or sticking around her shoulders. The nearest candle flickers light across her skin in a pale golden yellow, and every flick of me against that bundle of nerves is matched in the sounds she bounces off the walls.

While I'm much more accustomed to exploring every delicious fold of her from between her thighs, I've seen this painting play out on her face a dozen times. The moment when her eyes slip closed, unable to stay open a moment longer. Her brow will fold, that kissable fucking mouth will form an O, all before she bites that pouty bottom lip and moans through her teeth.

All right on cue.

The nice thing about my angle is that I have perfect access to that button with my middle and ring finger, and I swirl it in soft circles going from quick to lazy and back, leaving her breathless - and honestly, me too. I know my breath fanning across her chest chills her skin, but I'm not going to take my mouth away from any part of her that I can reach. Plus, I doubt she minds.

Hitting a slightly more perfect angle, her back arches and I catch her slide, which I'm sure she didn't even notice. Lucky for me, the lift of her body brought her chest high enough for my mouth to reach. I capture the perky nipple, dragging another of those stomach-dropping moans from her throat.

I know I'm running out of time, but it's just so damn hard to care. Still, I keep the slow circles against her center while incrementally increasing the pressure, wishing for the millionth time in just these last few minutes that it was my tongue doing the work instead of my fingers.

My teeth bite at the bud of her nipple before said tongue flattens and massages. Trailing my mouth back up her wet skin, her throat is exposed, so I drag it along the length before sucking a kiss to the edge of her jaw.

The first little gasp brushes my forehead and I feel her whole body begin to tense and tremble below me and I know she's close. Slipping off the bundle and dipping into the wetness present despite the water, because I couldn't not, pulls a disappointed little grumble from her chest.

I'm instantly under an amber glare, but I just respond with a shit-eating smile and lift of my scarred left brow.

"I was almost there." Another fact - she's full of them tonight. This one I already knew, of course. Her voice is an intoxicating erotic sound that begs me to fuck her.

Gods, if I could, Violet.

I'm cocky with my answer as well as my grin. "I know."

Her eyes roll a half second before she leans up and slants her mouth across mine. My groan mixes with hers, and we're suddenly just all-consuming lips, tongues, and teeth. Returning to her clit I pick up the pace.

While she still has a grip on my forearm, her other hand leaves the water to hold tight against the side of my neck, water dripping down to add to the already soaked tunic. Our mouths smack apart as she pants my name against my lips, and here comes those little gasps.

One - her fingernails bite into the back of my neck sending lightning bolts straight to my already overly hard cock.

Two - I kiss at her lips softly as she breathes my name over and over again against my mouth.

Three - I hope that I can control the shadows to smother whatever she's planning on setting ablaze without having access to my hands since the damn conduit is in the bedroom.

Four - the coil inside her snaps and she shatters with a cry against my fingers.

An unplanned fraction of a half of a second later, I. Feel. Everything.

The bond with her in my mind is suddenly blazing. The sparking silver I'm used to is wrapped - no - coiled with crackling blue-purple energy, and all of it flows straight into every vein, every inch of skin, hell - into my very soul.

I can't help the gasp I share with her as she pushes the mind-altering explosive feeling of her release across our bond. Every nerve ending I have and plenty I don't catch fire in a flaring burst, and a spike of lust goes from my stomach to my heart then down to my still-moving fingers against her center. And she shares every, single, rolling wave of pleasure that I coax out of her directly into my mind.

While I'm painfully hard against my leathers, a sensual slide of satisfaction fills me as she comes down from the high that I've been pulled along on, her forehead landing against my jaw as her hands still hold tight.

"Holy fuck, Violet," I groan into her mind as I know that my actual voice doesn't work at the moment. "Did you…"

"Mmhmm," her breathy confirmation pulls another groan out of my chest.

"Is it always like that?"

She pulls back, loosening her hold, and her head falls against the edge of the tub as I unwillingly let her out of my hands. Only then does she turn those eyes on me - the aqua finally outshines the amber, though I can see, and feel, that it wasn't enough. She hasn't stopped pushing her feelings my way, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stop greedily drinking them up.

It won't ever be enough, and I'm not quite sure how neither of us have figured that out.

I'm not prepared for the shake of her head in the negative.

"No," she grins, her hand coming up so her thumb can trace a wet line beneath my lower lip to the dip of my chin.

"Sometimes it's better."

…