Brela took a ragged breath and whispered against his lips, “Don’t hold back.”
Hunger shone once again in those steel-blue eyes.
One powerful thrust—that’s all it took for him to enter her and claim her mouth at the same time.
The rumble that echoed through her throat could have been his, could have been hers. All she cared about was how glorious and magnificent it felt to have him fill her, delicious pleasure sparking through her with that movement.
Then he withdrew to the tip again, that emptiness so surprising that his next thrust had her nearly crying out.
His hiss of satisfaction had her arching, demanding more as he continued to drive into her, strokes assured as pressure began to build in her core again. Every movement of friction inside her body earned moans as he urged them closer to release with deep, torturous thrusts.
They barely gasped for breaths between each kiss, lick, and suck of lips, skin, and tongue. He pounded into her, hungry and wild and almost too intense.Almost. She felt the burning pressure growing.
As his body began to tense, he gave one last powerful thrust and they burst, Brela crying his name as he shuddered against her with a harsh growl. Twitching, every last throb of release spilling into her, he somehow caught himself before crushing her completely.
They could only lay there, breathing heavy and spent from the morning sparring and now…this. She could have melted into the bed from sheer bliss.
Enemy or not, the man was too damn gorgeous, andgodsdid he know how to use his power. Her limbs were loose and heavy, mind empty of any doubt. Screw the consequences, that was worth every moment.
Cason withdrew with a heavy sigh, collapsing next to her. “Four hells, Brela. That was…fuck.”
Brela could only chuckle her agreement through her panting breaths. She rolled to her side and placed a kiss against his neck. “If this is what taunting you results in, I am never letting you win that knife back.”
26
An Assassin's Trust
Cason’s body was on fire. Not from the sun-blessed flame swirling within his chest or the crackling lightning that resided in his core, but something different. It was like a light prickling over his skin, humming and gentle like the caress of sunlight. It was easy and simple, yet complex and raw.
The source of that lightness still came as a shock to him.
A shadow cultist, assassin, and thief.TheVeil Scholar.
It didn’t surprise Cason that he woke up and Brela had already left his room, though it didn’t help his nerves that the woman had disappeared without him feeling her leave the bed; without him hearing her rummage around his room. She’d taken both the throwing knifeandNight Carver, somehow searching his entire room while he slept. He was also pretty sure she’d stolen another of his shirts.
But gods, he had never slept so soundly. He had never been able to sleep an extended period of time while laying next to someone, nor remain asleep through them leaving in the morning.
Brela had been there the last time he had shifted and partially woke, just a few hours after they had fallen asleep. He knew because she’d let out a small whimper into the darkness, body shivering as if she were cold even under the blankets, and accidentally kicked him. Then, to his surprise, had curled her body closer to his heat and allowed him to hold her.
He’d spent the better part of that next hour desperately trying not to think about their naked bodies pressed together. Of how good her skin felt against his bare chest and the sharp muscles under his fingers. Trying not to recall the glorious, sweat-slicked hours they’d spent wrapped together. Or how her mouth and tongue had masterfully teased his length before they had tangled themselves once again.
Despite all the exertion he had put on his body the previous day, Cason woke with more energy than he knew what to do with. Well, he’d had an idea, but his arm had not touched another body when he rolled over. Instead, his hand had smacked onto a heavy book and loose sheet of paper with the most precise and beautiful handwriting he’d ever seen.
My preferred romance. -B
Of course, he’d only chuckled at the title.Symbols of Carnage: Daggers of the Eternal.Then, he’d discovered the second note underneath the first.
Training at sunup in the courtyard. Shirt not required.
That had happened too. Serill had never been fearful of his ink, but Brela? She’d confirmed everything she said about not being afraid of magic, and so much more. The way her hands had traced over the markings had left him shaking, unable to form any words to express his anxiousness, and yet it dissipated the longer she watched him. As if she could read his mind, she’d even revealed her own scars for him to trace, including the Veil shard on her collarbone. He’d never noticed how…alivethe purple and black colors looked, like a shining jewel embedded in her skin.
Cason suddenly wondered why he’d ever been afraid to show his ink to her. Even with her fierce and bold confidence, she was kind, and she’d given him no reason to ever hide it from her. He, on the other hand, had given her every reason to run from him—in the way he judged her title as Veil Scholar and snarled at the shard of obsidian in her chest.
In the end, it was just a piece of the Veil wall; an unfortunate marking that she was forced to hide. It’s not like she possessed a cursed shadow magic.
She was just… misunderstood. The same way his power was criticized. Maybe he needed to learn more about her beliefs.
Brela was really making him question everything he thought he knew.
