I chuckled low in my throat, then did so while he did his utmost to break my concentration. After that he found new and interesting ways to distract me as I traced the next series, and the next. At long last I found myself—somehow—upon the table in the main room, the final series of the upcoming ritual drifting in luminescent perfection above me, and my body humming with languid pleasure.
“I think I know the series pretty well now,” I said, grinning up at him.
Mzatal leaned down and kissed me. “You have mastered it, indeed.”
“Please tell me you don’t train Idris like this?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
He laughed, shook his head. “No, you have a unique advantage.” He pushed off me, then picked me up and carried me toward the bath chamber. “And now it is time to prepare, that you may kick all the ass in the coming ritual.”
After a bath that we somehow managed to finish without any more distractions, it was time to dress and get ready for departure.
My usual style of clothing for ritual fell into the comfortable, casual, easy-to-move-in category. Today’s wasn’t going to be much different, though I stayed away from anything silky and flowy. I wanted to be able to run and move and all that good stuff, but I also wanted to wear something durable enough that it wouldn’t get ripped right off me in a fight. That would probably be a little distracting.
But since I had the style sense of a near-sighted hamster, I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and leave my wardrobe up to the zrila.
And wow, did they ever rise to the challenge: comfortable knee-high boots, black pants made out of durable denim-like material but a lot softer and a lot more flexible, and a really cool sleeveless wrap shirt with a black sash to belt it all in at the waist.
I preened in front of the mirror. “I look like a badass,” I announced.
Mzatal had the grace not to laugh at my posturing. “You are indeed glorious.”
I flashed him a grin. “A glorious badass.” Turning away from the mirror, I took a settling breath. “I guess I’m ready to go,” I said.
He took my hand. “The others await.”
My nerves rose again. I had the brief impulse to pounce on Mzatal and enjoy some stress relief, but I knew that was simply a delaying tactic. Okay, it would definitely relieve some stress, but I’d still have to go and do this thing no matter what.
He slid me a look as we walked, a hint of a smile twitching his mouth. “It would be a shame to dishevel the braiding Faruk made in your hair,” he murmured, telling me clearly that he’d read my impulse. His own hair was once again perfectly contained in a complex braid, its utter blackness beautiful against the grey and silver brocade of his tunic coat.
“I bet you could find a way to do it without messing up my hair,” I said slyly.
His hand briefly tightened on mine. “If I were to take you now,” he said, “your hair and clothing would be quite disheveled.”
I laughed. “Tease.” But even the simple banter was enough to quell my nerves. Well, somewhat. This was still a huge thing we were about to do. And neither of us had any doubt that Rhyzkahl would make an appearance.>Still within me, he shifted his grasp, slid his hands up my back to hold me close.
“Zharkat,” he murmured as he nuzzled my neck. A nameless thrill went through me. Beloved.
Straightening, Mzatal lifted me from the edge of the dresser, then held me firm in his arms, keeping me deliciously impaled upon him as he moved to the bed. I kept my legs tight around him as he lowered me to the soft quilt. He looked down at me with a smile that lit his entire face and kissed my forehead, eyes and cheeks, before lowering his head to nuzzle my neck. Already he was hard within me again, and I made a pleased sound in the back of my throat as I arched into him. There was a lot to like about the stamina and quick recovery time of demonic lords, and Mzatal had no problem demonstrating exactly how easily he could bring me right back up to the peak. His hands and mouth and cock worked me into a gasping frenzy that had me begging for yet another release. With merged potencies and deep passion, we carried each other to new realms. In the end, we collapsed together in a glorious tangle of limbs and hair, spent and shuddering and smiling.
At long last I caught my breath and regained the ability to speak. I grinned over at him where he lay propped up on one elbow beside me. “Thanks, Boss.”
Mzatal laughed, stroked fingers down my cheek. “I am forever dubbed thus.”
“Yep, you’re stuck with it!” I said, then gave a languid sigh as my body hummed delightfully with pleasure and potency.
He shifted and swept all his hair over his shoulder. I eagerly reached out to slide my fingers through the silky mass. “There is time yet for sleep,” he murmured with a smile, skimming a hand over my breasts and down my belly.
My loins tightened at his touch. I could get used to this merged-potency-multiple-orgasm-thing. “I’m not sleepy at all,” I said with a sly grin.
He raised an eyebrow, then his face mirrored mine in a smile. “Wrap your hands in my hair again, and I will do…bad things…to you.”
I gathered a handful of hair, tugged. “How bad are we talking?” I asked. I tugged again, harder.
He closed his eyes briefly, muttered a sentence in demon that meant something along the lines of holy fucking shit it feels good when you do that. His reaction sent my pulse racing and heat rushing to my naughty bits.
“Bad,” Mzatal murmured. “Very very bad.” He shifted between my legs and pushed my thighs apart, lowered his head to me. I groaned and wound my hands in his hair, kept my grip firm as he did bad things that made me cry out and scream and clench in very good ways. Once I recovered, I proceeded to do bad things to him, which he seemed to find just as good.
Eventually we lay limp against each other, spent and sated. He wrapped his arms around me, held me close until our breathing slowed, then turned me to my right side and shifted to lie behind me. He dropped his left arm over me, reminiscent of how he held me during the confrontation with Rhyzkahl, pulled me back against him and snuggled his head over mine. “Zharkat,” he murmured.