A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash 2)

Slowly, I became aware of a dampness against my lower back and the upper swells of my behind. I tipped my head back and to the side.

His head rested on the pillow behind mine, his features relaxed in a way that I’d only seen when he slept. Those eyes of his were heavy and hooded as his gaze met mine.

And then the strangest thing occurred. Pink crept into his cheeks as he shifted his hips away from me. “Sorry,” he said thickly, a boyish grin appearing on his lips. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I looked down. There was a spot along the front of his pants that was a darker black. Damp. My cheeks colored as my gaze flew to his.

“That hasn’t happened since…” The grin turned sheepish, and between that and the faint blush staining his cheeks, it was like seeing someone totally different. “Well, that’s never happened before.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised by the throatiness of my voice.

“Really.” His gaze searched mine. “I didn’t want—I mean, of course, I wanted that. I wanted more. I always want more when it comes to you.” The hue of his eyes brightened once more, and my toes curled. “But I wanted it to be about you.”

Gods, there was also something so tender about the way he said that. “It was about me. You tried to put space between us.” I turned my head away, my gaze falling to his hands. “I’m the one who didn’t allow that.”

“And I liked that.” A pause. “A lot. Obviously.”

My lips twitched.

“Who knew you could be so demanding,” he continued, and I rolled my eyes. “I also liked that. Obviously.”

I grinned.

His exhale was soft, tickling the back of my neck. “What you did for me? Offering to feed me? I know that had to be scary.”

It wasn’t. Not really.

“And I just want you to know that I…” He cleared his throat. “There really aren’t words, other than thank you.”

I stared at his fingers and the tendons of his hands, searching for some hint of regret or shame. I was sure the embarrassment would come later when I saw Kieran, but I didn’t regret offering my blood to Casteel. And like before, I didn’t wish that what happened afterward hadn’t. It didn’t feel shameful or wrong. It had felt natural, as if some inherent knowledge said that it was common for that level of intimacy to come from feeding. To give way to more. That if I’d grown up in Atlantia, that if he and I were different people, what we’d shared afterward would be common. Once again, it felt like…like the ground we held had changed and shifted under us.

“You don’t need to thank me.” I closed my eyes. “It was my choice.”

Casteel eased his arm out from under me, and the bed shifted as his weight left it. A languid warmth settled over me as I watched him make his way to where his bag lay at the foot of the bed. He pulled something out and then disappeared into the bathing chamber, closing the door behind him. I heard the faint sounds of fresh water from pitchers being emptied into the basin. Water splashed, and I wondered how he was able to withstand the coldness of it.

I wiggled my toes against the blanket bunched at the foot of the bed, thinking I should rise or at least pull the blanket up, but I was too comfortable to make the effort. My eyes drifted shut, reopening when I heard the door open. Casteel strode out, wearing only those loose cotton pants that hung indecently low on his hips. I shouldn’t look, and I definitely shouldn’t stare, but I soaked in the sight of the lean, coiled muscles of his abdomen and the defined lines of his chest and shoulders. His form was evidence of years spent wielding a sword and using his body as a weapon, but to look like him…

It should be forbidden.

Casteel caught my gaze, and his full lips curved. The dimple in his right cheek appeared.

And then the left one.

“I like that,” Casteel said.

“What?”

“You looking at me.”

I watched him toss the rolled-up pair of breeches into his bag. “I’m not looking at you.”

“My mistake, then,” he murmured, the dimple in his right cheek remained. He straightened, and the muscles along his spine did interesting, fascinating things.

I waited for him to tease me about what we’d done, for him to point out that yet again, and twice in one day, I’d proven myself wrong when it came to him.

The teasing never came.

He disappeared from my line of sight, and I somehow managed to not turn and watch him. A handful of moments passed, and then the bed dipped under his weight once more. Surprise whispered through me. I should’ve known the moment I saw him in those pants that he wasn’t leaving the room, but I guessed I hadn’t expected him to stay. It was so early in the day, barely noon.

Reaching down, Casteel grabbed the blanket and tugged it up over me—over us—and then he snuggled in behind me like he had before.

Silence stretched, filling the room, and then he said, “Can I…can I just hold you?” he asked, and I’d never heard him sound so uncertain. “There are things I should be doing, and I know we’re not in public, and I know that what we shared doesn’t change anything, but…can I…can we just pretend?”

My heart thumped heavily again, and I didn’t know if it was the effect of the feeding or what we’d done afterward. Or if it was the softness of his request, the vulnerability in it, and the feeling that things had shifted even more between us. It could’ve been all of those things that led me to say, “You can.”

Casteel’s exhale was ragged, but he didn’t move. When I looked over my shoulder, his eyes were closed, his lips parted. I wondered if he was all right. “Casteel?”

Thick lashes swept up, revealing extraordinarily bright amber eyes. “I…I didn’t think you’d let me.”

Lying my head back down, I wet my lips. “Should I have not?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know.” Casteel moved then, slipping one arm under me and the other around me. He tugged me close, sealing my back to his chest. “No takebacks now, though.”

I allowed myself a small smile as I sank into his embrace, his warmth. And I permitted myself one other thing.

I let myself enjoy it.

Chapter 27

Pulling one of Casteel’s clean tunics over my head, I looked down at myself and sighed. Between the too loose breeches and the oversized shirt, which nearly reached my knees, I looked a bit ridiculous. But the plain black shirt was far better than the too-heavy sweater.

We hadn’t dozed that long, maybe a little over an hour before I woke to find him propped up on his elbow, watching me. When I asked what he was doing, he simply responded with, “Enjoying the scenery.”

I’d blushed a thousand shades of red, and he’d smiled before lowering his head and brushing his lips over my forehead. Then he’d said that he had an idea, and that was how I ended up in the baggy breeches and one of his shirts.

Glancing at the oval mirror before leaving the bathing chamber, I caught sight of the side of my neck. The patch of skin around the two red puncture wounds was faintly pink. I touched the skin, finding the area tender but not painful. When I left the bed, I’d noted that the shadows under Casteel’s eyes were gone, as was the sharpness to his features. It was amazing how quickly my blood had affected him.

It was also amazing how his bite had affected me.

The moment his mouth had closed over my skin and the initial pain of his bite vanished, it was like tumbling into a world where the only thing that mattered was him and the feel of him drawing a piece of me deep inside him. What Kieran had shared with me before about heartmates hadn’t mattered. The realization that Casteel had possibly kept the truth of Spessa’s End from me because he either feared I would share what I knew if captured or he hadn’t trusted me with the information until I was far enough outside the Ascended’s reach was no longer a concern. Neither was the shock of learning about the Joining. There had been no shame over being trapped between Kieran and Casteel as Kieran had been all but pinned to the wall by Casteel’s need. I’d become a flame, and none of that had mattered.

But now?

Now, there was embarrassment when I thought of Kieran—the wolven who must have known about the tradition. Something Casteel had never told me about because it hadn’t been relevant for him to do so. The marriage was temporary. An act that I wasn’t sure was as innocent as Casteel made it out to be—at least not most of the time. But I didn’t feel shame for what Kieran had witnessed. I didn’t know if I was supposed to, but it didn’t feel like something to be ashamed of. My reaction to Casteel was natural, and even if what came afterward when Casteel expressed his gratitude was foolishly reckless when it came to my heart, it had also felt right.

Flushing at Casteel’s apparent lack of control, I scooped my hair out from the tunic’s collar, leaving it down. He’d said that had never happened before, and I couldn’t fathom why he’d lie about that. The fact that it’d happened with me was inconceivable, but there was an odd sense of power there, too, one as old as time itself. The kind of power that I imagined Miss Willa and the women at the Red Pearl, the ones who worked there and were patrons of the establishment, had mastered.

Hearing Casteel’s footsteps in the bedchamber, I tore my gaze from the mirror and slid open the pocket door.

Casteel had managed to change his clothing. Somewhat. He’d donned his breeches and boots, but the white tunic still dangled from his fingertips. Something about the hard lines of his chest and stomach were utterly fascinating, but my earlier boldness had left me.

“So, about my idea,” he said, lifting the shirt over his head.

“I’m half afraid to ask.” I moved to the terrace doors. He’d opened one after we woke. Warm sunlight spilled across the tile floor.

His laugh was muffled as the shirt slipped over his head. “I’m wounded.”

With his back to me, I grinned. “I’m sure you are.”