“Well, if we’re done with our research here, what should we do next? How much longer until the Artisan has an answer for us about the memory?”
“We’ve been in here for several hours,” Tristan answered, rustling his wings. “I’m sure she’ll contact me soon.”
“So we’re just going to sit here doing what? Twiddling our thumbs?”
Tristan aimed a saucy smile in her direction. “I can think of better ways to occupy our hands,” he said loudly and with enough intent that their neighbor’s head perked up. Tristan shot the man a hardened stare that could only be interpreted one way.
Scram.
To Cassandra’s surprise, the man gave her an assessing glance, then offered Tristan a wink before he gathered up his books and abandoned his table.
“Come closer, playmate,” Tristan murmured, inducing warm shivers throughout her body.
“Here in the library?” she whispered. “Anyone could turn that corner and see us.”
He unfurled his wings. “Then it’s a good thing I’m a Ghostwalker and can make us a hiding place.”
“And what if someone hears?”
“What’s the worst that could happen? We get kicked out? We’ve already learned everything we’re going to learn here. Besides, I don’t think anyone in Meridon would begrudge us an afternoon siesta. In fact, it’s probably mandatory here.”
Cassandra didn’t think the frazzled librarian would agree. But the thought of performing a profane act on these sacred grounds was tempting, and stirred the recently roused wickedness within her.
They had time to kill. And at the moment, she couldn’t think of a better way to slay it. She needed the distraction, now more so than ever after the ship, the Emperor’s demands, the reappearing elemental magics. What a High-Gods-damned mess this all was. The unanswered questions wrapped around her throat, slowly choking off her breath.
The hungry gleam in Tristan’s eyes loosened them ever so slightly.
Now that they’d resumed their arrangement to play together, she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her hands off him.
Despite knowing it was a bad idea.
But there was something about this trip, about being away from Thalenn, that allowed her to believe the consequences didn’t count here. Might as well take advantage of the pretense while she could.
She stood, nestling between his legs, and he pulled at her shirt—his shirt, actually, that she was still wearing from the night before. She stopped his hands as he folded his wings around them, puffing out his camouflaging feathers and cocooning them within.
“Oh no,” she cooed. “If we are playing here, thenIam in charge.” His impish smile deepened. “We have a score to settle.”
“Didn’t I say we weren’t keeping score?”
“I never agreed to that.”
She settled his hands against his thighs, then leaned in and opened his jacket before dropping to her knees.
He licked his lips as his pupils dilated, his honey-brown irises diminishing to tiny rings.
She knew exactly what she wanted—to make him feel as good as he’d made her feel. The urge to taste his flesh was overwhelming.
“Cassandra, you—”
“Hush,” she silenced him, lifting his shirt and exposing his deliciously ripped torso. She licked and kissed the golden-tan expanse above his waistband as she unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down.
Inch by agonizing inch.
* * *
Tristan’s hearthammered in his chest, his excitement skyrocketing.
Cassandra wanted to suck him off. In public. Well, almost public since they were hidden inside his wings and the library was nearly empty.
