“We have at least two hours before anyone breaks down those barriers to rescue me,” he says, “if they dare. Make the most of it.”
The heat in his voice is irresistible. Mounting the steps of the dais, Ronan is drawn now and always towards the brightest thing in his world.
?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
KARIS
Karis has gotten a lot of adulation over the past two weeks. What feels like half the country dropping to their knees and praying, reveling in his glory, begging for answers. Quite literally singing his praises. But none of that is for Karis himself. That attention and praise is for Radiant Vara.
This, the dark heat in Ronan’s eyes, the smouldering fire where Ronan’s hand touches his throat—this worship is for Karis himself.
Ronan steps forward. Karis licks his lips and steps back. Another step, until his lower back collides with the edge of the altar. Ronan leans into him, their bodies pressing together from thighs to chest. Karis grips the edge of the altar, and Ronan’s hands cover his.
He lifts his head as Ronan lowers for another kiss—but Ronan detours at the last instant, kissing the corner of his mouth instead. The edge of his jaw. The pulse of his neck.
“Should I avoid leaving marks?” Ronan murmurs into his skin.
“No need.” Karis’s throat bobs at the touch. “I’m not hiding you from anyone.”
Sweet pressure, the edge of teeth. Suddenly, Ronan pulls away and looks down at him, with a hint of wariness in his eyes. “He’s not… watching, is he?”
Karis doesn’t realize who Ronan’s talking about at first. Then he breaks into laughter. “Definitely not.” He starts helpfully unbuckling Ronan’s belt. “I’ve told him not to before, and he’s, uh. Very respectful of my privacy.”
Actually, Vara tends to phrase it more like:My interest in your ridiculous exploits is so meager, it cannot be quantified. Or something like:I am far too busy examining the eternal cartography of justice to pay attention to your youthful fornication.But Radiant Vara’s sense of humor is a little difficult to translate for other people. Karis doesn’t want to ruin the mood.
Ronan returns to kissing the line of Karis’s throat. He bites down over Karis’s collarbone, and the sharpness sends a jolt of pleasure straight to Karis’s cock. Groaning, he rocks up and finds that Ronan is just as hard against him.
“There’s oil—” he groans again when Ronan’s hand slips between them, “—in my pocket.”
Ronan chuckles. “Did you plan this?”
“It’s supposed to be for anointing things. Blessing people.” Karis rocks into the curve of Ronan’s palm, seeing stars. “I was definitely thinking about this when Sister Julia handed me the bottle, though.”
“Were you?” Ronan fishes into Karis’s pocket. “Do you think about this a lot?”
“Yeah,” Karis breathes. The filigreed bottle glitters in Ronan’s hand. “I think about you all the time. Do you like that?”
Ronan brushes the hair from Karis’s face. He seems to enjoy doing that. He also seems to enjoy this: laying a lingering tease of a kiss on Karis’s forehead. “I think about you all the time too. You’re so fuckingperfect, Karis.”
The praise combines with the friction against Karis’s cock in a deadly blow. Karis’s knees weaken with desire, and it’s a relief when Ronan flips him around. It’s easier to lean forward over the altar, so he doesn’t have to face the overwhelming desire in Ronan’s gaze.
Ronan knows how to play him like a fiddle. “You worked hard this week,” he murmurs into Karis’s shoulder. The jar of blessing oil rests on the altar, and Ronan’s hands fall to Karis’s waist. Fingernails dig through the fine white garments. “You’ve earned a break. Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”
“Fuck,” Karis gasps. Somehow, possibly magic, his trousers are unfastened.
A firm hand splays between his shoulder blades and pushes him down. He bends willingly, eagerly, onto the altar. The edge hits the tops of his thighs, angling his ass slightly upward when his stomach meets the unforgiving surface. The golden silk altar cloth bunches up under his arms and shoulders, soft against his cheek. He’ll probably have to burn the cloth later. His cock briefly touches the cool marble before Ronan tugs his hips back.
The scent of shaflower and myrrh surrounds him.
“Any special prayers I’m supposed to say while using this?” Ronan says as he rubs oiled fingertips against Karis’s rim. The oil warms quickly, and Karis’s entire body tingles with anticipation.
“Yeah,” Karis breathes. “Light guide your cock into my ass,now.”
Ronan’s laughter is warmer than any Radiance or magic Karis has ever felt. “You said we had two hours.”
“If you actually take two hours, I’ll—”
