by Lisa Daniels
She never thought she could feel such a powerful, intense attraction for someone. Not like this. Not to the point where every part of her body screamed for it, and her brain caught fire with arousal. In a way, she became even more aroused by the fact that she realized how turned on she was. That she was bold enough to demand this. It injected a sense of power, of certainty in her. Her hands groped at his shirt, determined to rip it off, so she could feast her eyes on the body hiding beneath. Her eagerness seemed to be having some kind of trigger effect on him, because the kisses grew deeper, more intense, and his body pressed harder into her, as if he intended to merge them both together.
Not that Kelsey minded the idea of that happening. She felt pretty certain that he could do almost anything with her, and she wouldn’t resist. Him stripping her of her clothes upon the bed helped fire up the mood further, as his hands danced over her skin, revealing more and more of it. Soon both were completely naked, their clothes piled in ungainly lumps upon the carpet. One of her hands was pressed into the back of his neck, the other on his right shoulder blade. She loved the way he kept drawing back in the kisses, only to cut straight into the next. She’d heard things about kissing, but never quite expected it to be this enjoyable.
This beautiful. Her eyes, when they had the chance, wandered over his muscular frame, how his muscles tensed as he braced himself above her. His stomach was so flat, his body so well defined—she never thought she could exactly ignite over the visual feast of his skin, either.
She was learning a lot of things today, it seemed.
“What would you like me to do now?” he said, wearing a wicked grin upon his face. Testing her boldness, her determination.
“Inside,” she managed to whimper, her body arching upwards. His erection could be felt just by her thigh. “Want you inside.”
The pupils in his eyes went completely black. He lowered his body, positioning himself perfectly against her entrance. Teasing her, though he full well knew what she wanted. Was he expecting her to make the next move, too? Her courage faltered slightly, but just before it disappeared completely, he slowly penetrated her, whispering, “Tell me if it hurts. I know first times can do so.”
She’d heard about first times hurting, too, and it caused her to tense slightly. However, he was able to slide completely inside her, and although the sensation felt weird, it didn’t hurt.
“So...” he said, when he didn’t get the expected shout of pain. “That’s good. I don’t want to hurt you.” He moved slowly out, then back in, still watching her the whole time. She relaxed, and he sped up, and the mounting desire bloomed again, increasing in strength until she became a litany of gasps and moans, clinging onto that stunning body of his, listening to his rough, turned-on voice. She didn’t fully understand all the things he was doing to her body, or how simple contact and breathless words could elicit such a reaction out of her, but they did, and they intensified. Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly feel any more than she already did, a tight knot in her stomach, lower, seemed to pound at her, demanding release. When it did, a blizzard of pleasure tore through her limbs, and shut off her ability to think or breathe properly.
By the time she recovered from the orgasm, Perran seemed overcome by a similar sensation of his own, though she didn’t know for certain what he might be feeling. His motions became gentler, winding to a natural stop. He was panting above her, wearing a big, beatific smile, staring at her as if she was the most important thing in the world.
Which was rather a nice feeling to have, if she was honest with herself. She couldn’t help but keep stroking his face, his arms, his chest, even as they eventually separated from the hips, but remained close enough to embrace.
Neither of them said anything for a moment, and it was Perran who first broke the silence. “Not bad for a first time of yours,” he said, grinning as he kissed her forehead, then just behind her ear. A part of her wished he didn’t do that, because it felt entirely too nice, to the point where she might want to have her second time right here and now, and she didn’t think she was emotionally prepared for another beating of pleasure.
“I had some help,” she replied ruefully, again thinking about how painfully shy she’d been.
“Yes, but the help can only do so much. Hey. Are you okay?”
She nodded, matching his grin. “Yes, I, uh, enjoyed that. A lot. I was wondering for so long, and then I worried it would hurt a lot, or it would be bad, but… I worried too much, it seems.”
He rolled off her gently before stroking her cheek. “You have little to be worried about, Kelsey. And everything to look forward to when we return to Azarus.”
“Once you survive the backlash from your failed mission, I suppose,” Kelsey said, knowing it’d be tough.
“We might not have failed,” he said. “Luan and Haut are hot on the trail of one of the refugees. We think it’s a possibility he might be the person we’re looking for.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he stay on an island he purposefully intended to sink?”
“I think if he underestimated when it sank, he might. Lissa did say he had to be on the island to summon the coal-demon. It’s entirely possible he underestimated the spread.”
That made sense. Kelsey cuddled up to him, her mind turning over her life in the past few months.
Everything had improved from the moment she met Perran Rus. When he took her out of that place, because she was unable to do so herself. He’d shown her respect, care, and love. He’d gone above and beyond the call of duty for her, and she wanted nothing more now than to spend more of her life with him, to continue exploring the budding relationship. The budding love.
“There’s something I want to say,” she said, though she wasn’t too excited about the prospect of potentially ruining the peace between them. But she needed to mention it. “About… the comments we exchanged. Back before I was left with Lissa.”
She felt Perran stiffen slightly before he took a breath and nodded. “Okay.”
“I have more to add on the matter. I still think that if there’s anyone you should be angry at, it’s her abuser. But I understand what you mean that it is her fault as well. Maybe she could have been stronger. But neither should you be angry because she wasn’t. It’s just… I don’t think she knew the choice she was making. Even if it was a choice, she didn’t understand.”
Perran took more deep breaths, giving himself a moment before he answered. “I was angry. Because I thought we’d be together, and I’d protect her. But it’s hard to protect someone who doesn’t want to protect themselves. And I hate… I hate seeing they have a choice, but each time, they keep thinking they don’t.”
She kissed him on his cheek, resting one hand against his gradually slowing heartbeat. “You did everything you could at the time, I’m sure.”
He shook his head. “I could have done more. But… it’s too late now. I just have to accept that I didn’t. And I hope that somewhere down the line, I succeed with someone else where I failed with my sister. Like you.” He kissed her on the nose, and she giggled in response.
She hoped he’d be able to get over the ghost of his sister. She hoped as well that she could completely shrug off her own past and be able to plunge into this relationship fully, without any fears weighing her down. To be able to tell her parents the truth and know it was a good truth to tell.
To love someone else, and to love herself. It was all she wanted.
“I still have a ways to go, I think,” she said, closing her eyes, listening to his steady breaths. “But out of all the people I get to be with on the journey—I’m glad I’m with you.”
His arms wrapped around her tighter. “Me, too,” he said. “Can’t wait to see more of you in action, either.”
“Depends on what type of action you’re looking for,” Kelsey said with a grin. “The storm kind, or the bed kind?”
“Why not both?”
Well, she couldn’t really argue with that.
<
br /> The Dragon's Ink Witch
Six Isles’ Witches & Dragons
Book 4
By: Lisa Daniels
Chapter One – Luan
She got the tough assignments. When they needed information, they called for her to extract it. When they needed death, she was the monster under the bed.
It helped she liked the killing, in a way. A twisted part of her soul enjoyed putting the pain in those she felt thoroughly deserved it. Another part, quieter these days, thought she was simply too broken to do anything normally.
But that was okay. They needed broken people in the constabulary. They needed those who had brushed with death and the lower levels of life, to maintain law and order within the floating islands and the Undercity. Anywhere else, and Luan would be considered dangerous. She didn’t hold much value as an air witch who moved ships through the skies. No, her value lay in snatching the breath from people’s lungs, creating vacuums that even the toughest, most experienced fighters and witches couldn’t break out of. You couldn’t fight nothing, after all.
If Luan wanted someone dead, they were dead.
Her target address loomed before her. Hostage situation. Deep in the heart of Azarus, the king’s isle, a prince was captive. A bargaining chip against the king.
None of the police had known about this capture for months. The enemy had done their job well, blackmailing the king into frightened silence, getting him to do their bidding like a puppet on strings. Easy to bring a dragon low if you threatened their only offspring, when all the others had long since died.
Laws had been shifting. Security around Azarus had tightened. People needed more and more documentation to enter and leave, and the king stopped coming to court gatherings. Even with the fact that the police were based in Azarus, the corruption had started from the top and trickled down below, until it reached the goons like Perran and Luan. By the time that happened, it was too late. Their ship had been impounded, for fear of bringing back a disease from the higher isles. Their task force was reduced, the team splitting up until only four people remained, and they certainly wouldn’t be getting any heavy duties.
Except this, their own research project, separated from the mundane patrols and issues of understaffing.
Keep it quiet, Luan, Perran had told her. You’re the one for the job. We’ll stamp out the ugly stain in our own city yet.
Manipulating the wind to pick the lock was easy. It required the same kind of precision Luan employed for stealing another’s breath. This was what she excelled at. The lock creaked, along with the metal door, and Luan stepped inside an ugly industrial warehouse—a steel-working factory that had shut down six years previously, with a For Sale sign that rotted from the rain and snow outside. Luan rolled up her sleeves, exposing the black ink tattoos all along her arms—the patterns a mix between wind and fire swirls, dancing and entwining. She flexed her strong muscles, taking deep, steady breaths, eyes adjusting to the gloom, nose inhaling dust, the acrid scent of rusting metal, and something else that she couldn’t place.
This is where we think the prince is being held captive. Every ship that left Azarus was checked, and no one had spotted the prince in any of them. Maybe he could have been stowed away in a floating dingy in the night, but all their flimsy evidence pointed to corruption within Azarus itself, and the possibility that the prince had never left.
Strictly, Luan was off the books right now. A free agent. Liable for arrest herself if she was caught. She wore a bandana around her face, and now tugged on black, elbow-length gloves, before sliding further into darkness. This place didn’t feel right, somehow. However, there didn’t seem to be anything out of place, and she continued her search, using her senses to try and locate any changes in the air… any breaths that tainted the otherwise natural ripples.
There were several. Below. She couldn’t find an entrance to below, until she reached a small pile of crates and felt dead air beneath said crates. A draft—a passage. Nudging the crates aside, she located the metal trapdoor and hoisted it up with a creak, shimmying herself into the dark hole that opened before her. She could find no source of light, so relied on the way the air felt around her to guide her way through. It gave her sight even in complete darkness, let her navigate through every bump and jag.
A few moments, one more twisting, downward curve, and orblights infused the otherwise darkness, teasing images into her eyes and breaths. People were here, she sensed their carbon dioxide forming little clouds and separating until it merged with the air around it, and another draft that suggested ventilation from somewhere.
Her prey was close. And perhaps so was the prince. She couldn’t be that lucky, right?
“You can’t keep avoiding your food,” a low, guttural voice probed at her ears, addressing someone else. “Else we’re force-feeding it down your gullet. Storming eat up, man.”
Silence to those words. Luan entered a long, stretched basement filled with cell cages, most of them empty. A man wearing navy blue straddled a chair in front of a big cage, which contained a prisoner within, held by dark chains to the wall.
Anti-magic chains. Meaning they could stop someone from casting spells, or… shifting. She tasted the texture around them and scowled.
She supposed it was the prince in that cage, but honestly, the wretched bundle of flesh looked nothing like the daguerreotype Luan had seen of him. At his best, the prince had curly, dark hair, heavy-lidded eyes with what seemed like a light brown hue, and the barest hint of stubble on his delicate yet… manly face.
This was some thinned-out, overgrown wretch with a beard for days and filthy clothes, and chains long enough for him to wrap around his own neck if he decided he didn’t want to live.
Regardless of whether it’s him or not, I can’t exactly ignore the situation. The sentry/guard continued talking at the prince, completely oblivious to Luan slinking closer. She didn’t need to be too close—she just wanted to overhear the conversation. There was nothing more to overhear, though. Just grumbling from a bored and irritated guard, and silence from the prisoner.
Why was there only one guard, though? Why only one prisoner, in all this? Something wasn’t right. If this was the prince, then surely, he merited a much higher level of security. Unless he’d been down here so long without any interruptions that they’d simply grown lax.
She was close enough to the guard now to see the dirty blond hair. Zamorkan. Really, he should have spotted her by now. There weren’t any hiding places. If his magic was any good, he should know that an air witch was almost breathing down his neck.
Oh well. She had another way to seize his attention. Magic flaring to life in her, she tugged hard at the breath in the man’s lungs, separating the air clinging to his body as rapidly as possible so that he existed in a bubble of nothing.
He attempted to make a sound and wheezed, clutching at his throat, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come—which was a bad idea. It exacerbated the effect, and his skin began bruising as blood vessels popped. Sensing a buildup of magic within him, Luan prepared to dodge, in case he unleashed it. She watched ruthlessly as he continued gasping like a fish, before passing out from lack of oxygen.
“Okay,” she said, now walking and stepping over the unconscious body, letting oxygen return to him. She didn’t want him dead yet. She bent and noted a distinct lack of keys on the man. “Where’s a girl gotta go to get some keys around here?”
The figure slumped on the bed, surrounded by chains, raised his tatty hair and head up, to lock murky brown eyes with her own dark ones. He seemed fazed, unfocused, perhaps not comprehending the words that left her lips. It made her feel just a little bit more hateful of the man on the ground. “Do you know where the keys to your cage are?” She repeated the question several times, patiently, slowly, until the man nodded and pointed a shaking hand to the bare patch of wall next to the guard. Luan followed his finger but sensed for herself that there was a hidden compartment in the wall. One shining brass key later, she unloc
ked the door.
Her intention was to switch chains, but she also needed to confirm who the prisoner was. “Hey. I need to know who you are. I’m here to locate someone, but I can’t be sure you’re the one I’m looking for.” She held up her police badge to his eyes. The man examined it for a long moment, then licked chapped lips.
“I’m…” He frowned, as if struggling to remember his name. “K-Kerrick…”
Finally, Luan thought in exasperation. “About time, Prince Kerrick. You’ve been missing a while.”
The grubby man simply watched her with a slightly glazed stare as she unlocked his cuffs with another key on the chain. He barely moved on the bed as she floated the unfortunate guard to the chains and clapped him in. Obviously, Kerrick was too weak, too malnourished, his mind rusty from lack of use or despair to focus, so she restricted what she said to him.
She helped float him along with her magic, as his legs were weak, and outside, she scurried to where Perran was waiting while Prince Kerrick gasped in fresher air, cheeks catching the cool breeze.
“One Prince Kerrick,” Luan said, promptly dropping the prince in Perran’s home, straight on the couch. “I’ve got a guard that needs some interrogating. I promise not to leave too much of a mess on the floor.”
Perran Rus twitched a smile in her direction, dark eyes fond. “Knew you’d do it.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll be as quick as I can. And…” She chewed her bottom lip aggressively. “What’re your plans with revealing the prince?”
“I have none. I need to read the situation with the throne. I don’t know if the corruption stops the moment Kerrick is returned, or if the king somehow is in it.” Perran gave her a light shove. “Be careful, Luan.”
“I always am,” she said, smiling briefly at him before making her way back to the abandoned factory.
