He panted against my hand, his expression blazing.
And then he licked my palm.
Licked me.
As we were walking along in this… hell place… toward what was going to be a considerably trying verbal sparring session ahead.
That was it.
I called my serpentine tongue forth and delivered a slow, hot lick along his jaw.
I pulled my hand from his mouth, smirking at him.
“Seriously? Bringing out that sexy fucking forked tongue when you want me calm? Don’t you think that’s an overreaction to my slight little—”
“Please. There is no such thing as ‘slight’ with you and you know it.”
He chuckled, then brushed a kiss over my forehead, communicating that he was returning to restrained civility, and holding back the rest.
I was sure it would be forthcoming. As soon as we were alone. Correction: the split-second that we were alone.
I drew in a centering breath, while settling my tongue, just as we reached the stone ring opening carved from bedrock. Within were a pair of mammoth interlocking arcs shaped like curved fangs. In their resting state, as they were currently, they met in the middle, fangs crossed.
With a flick of my citrine magic, the fangs coiled back into the walls with an irritating grinding sound that even had Zayn wincing.
We made our way through the opening into the Throne Room itself.
The floor sloped down a little as we walked in, making the thrones at the far end feel even higher. It was an elongated oval-shaped chamber, a long axis running from the entry to the throne dais. A vaulted ceiling carved in interlocking rib-like arches ran overhead. The black mirror-polished floors had gold veins running along them, directing the path onward to the throne area.
And there they were, upon a platform cut from vibrationally-shaped rock, shrewd eyes fixed on us as we drew closer, our footsteps echoing hauntingly through the space.
Norla and Syde Canor.
Seated upon the dark rock thrones, the backs carved like a serpent’s flared hood, the legs carved like coiled tails.
Norla was situated on the right throne facing us, and covered in black leather much like me, a pair of pants etched with raised serpentine markings and a long cloak with a rigid collar done up tightly. Her hair was just a couple of inches longer than mine, yet a mousy brown. A crown of thorns encrusted with jewels sat atop her head.
Syde occupied the left throne. He had silky black hair similar to me, yet his was long, falling in waves down his back. Hewas clad in a pair of loose moss-green pants and a black robe with yellow veins all over it. His crown was far less opulent and shorter also.
“High Lord Heir,” Norla greeted me, as we reached them. A smile would have been too much for her.
Then they both scrutinized Zayn beside me, our joined hands also.
I dropped the auditory safeguard and returned, “Ruling Sovereigns.”
“Son, this is highly irregular,” Syde spoke, gesturing at Zayn.
Son?Hmm, he was nervous.
Interesting.
Norla sat forward. “You are breaking protocol in several different ways. Ways that you seem intent on displaying to our people by approaching through the popularized entrance used by the commoners, instead of merely teleporting in.”
“Oof… commoners, that’s nasty phrasing right there,” Zayn commented, and it was all I could do to fight a smile.
“You are referring to my display of modernity, openness, collaboration, and accessibility to our people? Is that what you intend to demonize?”
“Fine,” was all she said, before sitting back, the signal for me to proceed.
