His next breath came in a shudder, and I fought not to shun his eyes. Then he said, “I wanted to heal you yesterday, but I feared you didn’t want to be touched.”
My lips quivered when I breathed, “You can touch me.”
His alluring gaze lingered for a while. Then he took a step aside and gestured behind him. I limped towards the desk and perched myself on its edge. I rested my hands on the woodenrim, careful not to crumple his papers. He moved towards me, his eyes never leaving mine, giving me the urge to swallow. I did when I watched him kneel before me.
Aegir slid his hand beneath the golden shimmering underlay. It moved from my Achilles tendon and trailed up my calf, stopping just behind my knee. He lifted the skirt of my dress, then pushed my left leg forward. He pressed his generous lips against my swollen knee. The sweet and caressing sensation of his healing powers weaved throughout my kneecap. I let out a serrated breath, its necessity not entirely due to the relief of pain.
Aegir slowly let go of my leg, letting the skirt fall back to the floor. Then he spread his arms and reached for my wrists. He moved my dotted arms closer to each other and closer to his face. With gentle presses, he kissed away the bruises in no particular order. His full lips felt so tender against my skin. I had to let out another shuddering sigh.
Then I watched as he pressed his lips against my sore knuckles. My head tilted at the realisation. He’d left them scathed. I blinked. He knew that their pain was a reminder of what I had done to protect myself. Similar to the way I had once felt towards having pained palms as a consequence of throwing axes. Gods, this male, he—he knew me.
Then he stood before me. I looked up, overwhelmed by his presence. I kept myself perched on the desk’s edge, replacing my hands on its rim the moment he let go of them. He held me completely transfixed with his irresistible, forest green eyes that searched mine. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then ran his fingers along the length of it. He leaned in, causing my belly to quiver as he pressed a small kiss on my reddened cheek. Then he grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently tilted my head back. For a brief moment, he brushed his lips against mine, sending my heart into a wildrace. When I opened my eyes, I saw that he was staring at my own—at my lips. His gaze was so intense, it made my mouth seem as if it were his last supper.
I carefully ran my tongue along my lips and whispered a lie. “They still hurt.”
His mouth lifted in a smirk and he let out a short exhale that I felt on the skin of my face. I had never noticed how much I liked his scent, how much I wanted more of it. It whispered of freshness and invigoration…icy and salty, yet comforting and somehow warm.
Aegir nuzzled his lips against my own, and this time, he did not leave my mouth. The kiss was gentle and affectionate, our lips glued and softly entangled. He cupped my face with both hands and took his time leisurely brushing his tongue against mine in soft strokes. My belly turned into frantic bats, each stroke the reason for their wings to beat fiercely. I followed his every movement, and when he deepened the kiss, I parted so easily for him.
Nothing else existed.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, a sentiment of warmth enveloping me, spreading through my bones, my spine, and my belly. I wondered if he, too, felt that way. Aegir moved his hand to my nape, then lowered it along the exposed wet skin of my spine. He brought it back up, passing his hand through my damp hair, cupping the back of my head in his palm. Our breaths turned hot and heavy. I trembled. My hands were all over him then. At the back of his head, his nape, his jaw, his shoulders, his back. I could feel the hard ridges of his carved muscles beneath my fingertips—the strength of him. The kiss turned intense, urgent, our tongues colliding fiercely, our chests heaving.
Aegir lowered both hands along my sides, down to my hips, then lifted me swiftly, sitting me down on the desk, never breaking the kiss. We both ignored the sound of crumplingpaper beneath me. He held me by my back, and as he made to come near, I spread my legs for him. Our chests pressed together, yet my need to have him closer grew by the second. I tightened my grip. The interfering fabric between us felt like my worst enemy. It kept me from brushing my skin against his own. I noticed the pain in my bruised breasts ebbing. Discomfort was quickly replaced by heaviness and need. His grip on my hips, too, strengthened and I felt him solid and hard against me. My breath hitched and I pressed myself onto him. It made his throat rumble.
He left my mouth only to kiss the length of my jaw, tongue and all, until reaching my ear. Small sounds escaped my lips. Then he made his way to my neck, each lick, each kiss, sending welcoming ripples of pleasure. I sighed at his sweet hums that sang against my skin. It was truly a combination of pain relief and yearning lust that burned beautifully in me.
His fingers tightened in my hair, and he tilted my head back, extending the column of my neck. His mouth lingered. His sharp canines brushed against the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing it. And I was sure he could feel my pulsing jugular, my hammering heartbeat, thrumming for the desperate desire I had for him. Air caught in my throat and a soft moan slipped from me. His throat also made a sound, but his was nothing like my muffled whine. No, his came out like a low, reverberating groan. I felt his canines pressing deep into my skin as he bit down on my neck, his tongue still brushing against my skin. I pressed myself harder against him and let out a deep whimper of painful pleasure.
I craved more of him—all of him. But it seemed that he did not wish for the same. Aegir hastily unlatched his mouth from my neck and took a few steps back, escaping my grip. He panted hard. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, with red-painted lips. “I’ll heal it.”
“No!” I covered the bitten skin with my palm as I slid off the desk. I moved towards him but he retracted farther.
“Get out,” he rasped.
His breaths were still heavy, just as mine were. I did not move, I just stood there with glassy eyes, hand at my bleeding neck.
“Leave. Now,” he ordered, words sharp. His fingertips went to his stained lips.
I reluctantly walked towards the door, grabbing my cloak and shoes before leaving his room, not daring to look anywhere near his eyes as mine were all teared up. I made my way downstairs, my heart shattering with every step. With my head down and steps hurried, I strode along the corridor on the ground floor. I halted when I heard commotion.
I wiped my face and followed the mumbling voices. Then I saw the gathering of people near Mounir’s room, gasping and murmuring.
The words “suicide,” “Mounir’s dead,” and “Mounir killed himself” echoed in hushed tones. I pushed my way through the small crowd until I stood in front of his doorway. I was stunned, wide-eyed, as I stared at his unmarred body, lifeless, hanging by the neck with his belt.
I would have believed it.
I would have believed that he had taken his own life, had my neck not bore a necklace, had I not known that the night before, Mounir’s nose was very much broken. A chill ran down the column of my spine.
“Good fucking riddance.” The slightly pitched voice that came from the back of the crowd was definitely Ralfe’s.
“Good riddance indeed,” Tomas agreed.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” a woman who had surely never experienced Mounir’s wrath hissed.
I had to get to my room before one of them saw me. But as I lifted the cloak’s hood and made my way to leave, I saw her. I saw poor, sweet Clara. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her hands trembled, for what I hoped—what I knew—was the last time. And as we glimpsed each other through watery eyes, we both knew that the tears we shed were not in sentiment for his death. No, he deserved it. He deserved all that Aegir had done to him—whatever he had done to him—for what he had done to us, to her. How many times had he defiled her? How many nightmares would I have spared her if I weren’t weakhearted?
I broke our gaze and continued to my room, everyone else too distracted to notice my attire, too distracted to notice the tears falling from my eyes.
