“It is heavy,” she retorted, clenching her jaw and stiffening her arm from the effort. The metallic surface did not help.
“Well, it is a weapon. You must accustom yourself to it,” he said, as he strode toward her. The rhythm and rustle of his limp had become a sign of safety, one she had grown attached to.
Her mind stuttered at the sight of him drawing closer and closer, like a predator closing in on its prey. He was no danger to her, not really. The danger he posed to her was far more complex. It did not threaten her body, but the aching spot between her thighs had been betraying her recently.
“May I?” he said, and did not wait for her answer before his hands came over hers, adjusting her grip with a quiet authority that left no room for argument. His chest pressed against her back, solid and warm, and she forgot entirely what she had been doing with the pistol.
“Thumb here,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Secure the grip. You are holding something that decides who lives and who does not. You cannot afford to be tentative.”
She was not tentative. She was barely breathing.
Then he wrapped his other arm around her waist. She straightened as he did, even as he pulled her against his body. It was too close. She swore he could hear her heartbeat as the pulse at her throat thudded. His scent and presence were too overpowering.
“You are trembling, Juliana,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. It was a boon that he was holding her. She suspected that if he were not, she would have already fallen down on the ground since her knees felt weak. Boneless.
“It is chilly,” she lied.
“Are you really cold?” he asked. “Or are you terrified? Focus, Juliana. I am right here. Do not think about anything else but the mark. The mark is everything you hate in this world. Everything in it that tried to hurt you.”
She closed her eyes as she tried to calm her breath. With every breath, she got closer and closer against his body. She was well aware of the hardness of his torso.
“Y-you are too close,” she gasped, wriggling herself.
Cassian chuckled but did not give her space. Instead, he leaned even closer, his lips nearly touching her cheek. “Do you think so, wife? I want to know because you are rubbing against me.”
“W-what? I do no such thing!” Juliana protested as she attempted to pull away, but to no avail as he held on tightly.
“There is no need to lie about that. I do not mind it. But if you keep on doing that, I cannot promise I will remain a gentleman. Now, pull the trigger. There you go.” His voice was becoming ragged against her ear, and she could not help but squirm. As she did, she felt his hard member against her backside.
Oh, my.
The realization sent a jolt of lightning through her, so close to triumph.Shewas doing that to him. But she was there for a reason; she had to remind herself. She pulled the trigger after finding her mark. The pistol roared. She did not expect thedeafening sound. Then again, she was not a markswoman. At least, not yet. The recoil jarred her, but she had his body to keep her from falling. She stifled a groan.
For a moment, she did not know what happened. White smoke filled the air. She waited for it to clear so she could see what she had managed to do. When the smoke cleared a little, she saw the hole at the center of her mark.
I did it!
“Well done, especially for someone who had just begun learning. What will you be like in a fortnight?” Cassian asked, even as he kept his arms around her. She did not complain. “Your hands are quite steady, even though you were so distracted with other matters.”
“I was not distracted,” she said. “I was… trying to find my footing.”
“Is that what we are calling it?”
The white smoke from the shot was still clearing. She watched it drift against the pale morning sky and was acutely, helplessly aware of his arms still around her, of the solid wall of him at her back, of the fact that she had not taken a single step away from him and had no intention of doing so.
“You are still rubbing yourself against me,” he said.
“I am not—”
“You are.” His voice had dropped. “You have been doing it since I put my arms around you, and I have been a perfect gentleman about it, but I am not sure I can be civil much longer.”
“Perhaps you are improving,” she said.
“I would not count on it.”
His arms tightened as she rubbed herself against him once more. She felt the change in him, the shift from instructor to something considerably more dangerous, and her pulse responded to it before her mind had the chance to intervene.
“Juliana.”
