by Ann Aguirre
Middle of the night. Nobody would know.
“That’s not entirely true,” she said.
“What’s not?”
Her next words had the tone of a confession. “I’ve been fighting my feelings since the first time I saw you. I thought it would be okay if we became friends—that I could force those inappropriate desires into harmless channels.”
Help me, Saint Casimir.
No assistance was forthcoming. Even in the dark, he could see her face too clearly: the tumble of her hair, the shine of her hair, the curve of her cheek, and the swell of her breasts.
A rueful smile escaped him. “How’s that working out for you?”
“Not at all. I still want things I can’t have. I still want…” She bit her lip, swallowing the rest of her sentence.
Callum bitterly envied her teeth. Intensely, he gazed at her mouth, the soft indent, then he turned his eyes to the ceiling, not expecting any divine intervention. He was locked in this moment, alone with his greatest temptation.
“I was right to run from you. It’s impossible to be near you without…”
“Without what?”
Wanting. Needing. Taking.
He’d failed at the first two, and the last, well, he was hanging on by a thread. She might not get out of this room before he lost everything he cherished. Losing everything might be worth it if it meant gaining her.
“You know already, kit. You said yourself, that you felt it first.”
“It?”
Maybe she wasn’t trying to torment him, but he wasn’t used to discussing such matters, and just acknowledging the pull between them felt like foreplay. In a guttural voice, he said, “The yearning. You felt it when you first saw me. I felt it when I first heard you sing. And it’s stronger now.”
Her tone filled with air, sweetness that went right to his head, muddying his thoughts. “I shouldn’t be, but I’m so glad it’s not just me.”
Callum groaned, his gaze drawn back to her with an irresistible tug. “No, kit. We’re in this together.”
9.
Joss knew she should leave.
Yet if she did, she would probably never glimpse Callum’s internal workings again. This hint of vulnerability came from a unique cross-section of illness and exhaustion. He would probably regret letting her in this much once she retreated.
She didn’t want to seduce him, but she couldn’t lose the ground she’d gained either.
Slowly, she slid out of chair and knelt at his bedside like a penitent. “What should we do?” she asked.
He drew a slow breath in through his nose, then he let go of the covers and his hand drifted toward her. Only he stopped short of touching her and left his palm facing up at the edge of the bed. Joss wasn’t sure what she was meant to do, but he didn’t seem to know either. Callum was still staring up at the ceiling as if there might be solutions written in ultraviolet ink.
Hesitantly, she set her hand atop his. That skin-on-skin contact sent a shock of sensation through her that made the top of her head tingle. Trying to calm her racing heart, she measured the difference in size. Her fingertips barely came to his first knuckle and the whole of her hand nested in the center of his. Slowly, his fingers furled inward, threading through hers, and she swallowed a moan over the smooth slide. Joss was acutely conscious of his thumb moving slowly over the soft skin of her wrist. Her entire body waited for each slow sweep, for the faintest brush of his fingertips.
“I should send you away,” he whispered. “Can you pull back and let me go?”
The chills were spreading, like she’d caught the fever from him, rippling down her back. It was as if he could touch her with only his voice, deep and rumbling across her body in a caressing wave.
“I was wrong,” she said unsteadily. “It’s not better this way, especially if you force me to be the prudent one.”
“Is that not your forte, kit?”
She shook her head, acutely conscious of his hand on hers, his thumb still slowly circling on her wrist. He could undoubtedly feel the racing of her pulse.
“You know it’s not. I specialize in recklessness, just look at how I wound up here in the first place.”
His tone was musing. “That’s certainly true. Why do you suppose I’d ask a wildcat to keep me in check?”
“Because I’m the missing lynx?” That was such a terrible pun that she momentarily felt ashamed of making it, even if it was to diffuse the unbearable sexual tension.
Until he laughed. Callum fucking laughed at her awful joke, not a pity chuckle either, a full-on, throaty guffaw. And the sound melted her heart into a buttery puddle.
Everything he does is absurdly adorable.
Gods knew, he’d hate being described that way, but she hadn’t found a single aspect that she disliked. And it seemed as if the joke gave him the strength to let go. He pulled his hand from hers and tousled her hair, a friendly gesture that filled her with dangerous joy.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Though Joss thought she knew, she still asked, “For what?”
“For not pushing me over the edge. I had a good long look at the rocks below, then you hauled me back.”
She bit her lip, trying to decide whether to say this. Then she shrugged mentally. Everything else was already out there anyway.
“I refuse to be a moment of weakness,” she said softly. “If you come to me, it will be a conscious choice, not because you failed a test. I won’t represent your biggest failure. Rather, I want to become your greatest love. More than your devotion to the order, even more than your duty to Burnt Amber.”
His breath caught, and Callum’s hand stilled on her head. “Joss—”
“Don’t say it,” she cut in. “I’m not part of your life plan, so I won’t hold my breath, and I won’t try to sway you, but you can’t keep me from harboring deep and soulful dreams.”
“I’m a right bastard,” he groaned.
“Why do you say that?”
“I have no intention of taking you for myself, but I don’t want anyone else to have you. So I can’t say it’s bad to hear that you’re waiting.”
Absurd joy bubbled through her, buoyant and effervescent. “Does it bother you when others show interest?”
“You think it was rational how I reacted to the soldiers betting on who would sleep with you first? I wanted to put Garven through a wall. Still do, actually.” Before she could speak, he held up a hand. “Don’t take that as encouragement. I’m fully aware that my responses are inconsistent and after tonight, I’m not talking about any of this again.”
Her heart hurt. That was the signal Joss needed to pull herself to her feet. “I’ll warm up the herbal tea before I go. You should drink some before you go back to sleep.”
“It’s only a few hours before dawn. I’ll get up now,” he said.
She frowned, wishing she had the right to insist that he take better care of himself. “Didn’t you learn anything? If you don’t sleep and eat enough, you won’t be able to do what you need to for everyone else.”
Callum ignored the reproof and moved to get out of bed. Joss scrambled to make room, and her feet tangled in the covers so she tipped backward, and he moved faster than she’d realized he could, grabbing her with both arms. But he used his full strength and she slammed into his chest hard enough to lose her breath.
Then she couldn’t breathe for other reasons because she was pressed fully against him, reveling in the breadth and strength of him, feeling each jerky inhalation, each quickening thump of his heart.
Gods, but he smells good.
The feel of his body seared into her nerve endings, and her hands flexed with the need to touch him. Dig her fingers into his back and find out what sounds he would make when he lost control and finally—
A groan escaped him as Joss shifted, fighting her instincts. He still hadn’t let her go. In fact, it felt like he was pulling her against him even more, so much that his hard cock nudged into her stomach, big and burni
ng hot, like every part of him.
“Be still,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t move for a minute. Don’t even breathe if you can help it. I’m positive that I’m being punished.”
It was impossible not to imagine the delicious feats of strength he could pull off without half-trying. With one arm, he could pin her against the wall and—
Stop it.
Joss tried to respect his request, but it wasn’t easy when she could feel the massive power of his physical response. Trembling, he lowered his head and rubbed his face against the top of her head; the slide of his bearded jaw offered a shocking rasp of sensation. Then he mastered himself, stepping back with a clumsiness that landed him on the edge of the bed.
“Get out. Now. Before I lose my mind.”
The sexual menace of that tone sent Joss running, not because she feared he’d hurt her, but she’d meant it when she said she didn’t want to be an impulse he regretted. She rushed out, omitting the tisane she’d offered before, and she didn’t stop until she got inside her own room. Still trembling, she leaned heavily against the door and indulged in the memory of how he’d felt, holding her with such desperate desire.
Then it wasn’t enough to remember. She rushed to the bedroom and stripped and touched herself with practiced hands, imagining that they belonged to Callum. Each stroke, each pinch, each tease, until she twisted with pleasure, and the orgasm crashed over her in relentless waves. Panting, she licked her fingers afterward.
Hopeless as it might be, she didn’t want anyone else. Not like this. For Joss, sex had always been enjoyable, but not especially intense yet she’d received an inordinate amount of pleasure just from touching Callum’s hand.
She wondered how he was coping, if he was headed to the bathhouse for an icy soak. That put the mental picture of his big, naked body in her head, and she had to go again. Sweaty and exhausted, she fell into a fitful sleep…and dreamed of him.
Callum didn’t mean to fall asleep.
After Joss fled, he tumbled back onto the bed with a groan and he closed his eyes to block the punishing, seductive sensations. The next thing he knew, Joss was in bed with him. And that… it couldn’t be real. She’d clearly left before, so this must be a dream, though he had no recollection of dozing off.
Not surprising, but he didn’t try to wake himself up. Here, he wasn’t responsible for what happened. No man could be blamed for what fantasies his unconscious mind conjured. When she tugged at his shirt in silence, Callum pulled his shirt off.
The rest of their clothes vanished in dream-style. No need for such things, and they were gone. Only her silky skin remained, and she touched him—her hands are magical—and she dug her sharp-cat nails into his chest. Callum growled, a low and guttural sound. She was uncharacteristically quiet, bending to kiss him.
Gods, finally.
He’d wanted her beautiful, gifted mouth on him ever since he first heard her sing. Her lips tasted like citrus and summer, sweetness and sunshine. Here, he didn’t need to hold back. He could have everything he wanted, nothing forbidden.
For long moments, he kissed her so deeply that she moaned into his mouth, and then he tumbled her backward, biting down on her neck, shoulders, soothing the nips with lips and tongue. Callum feasted on her breasts until she was squirming, then he licked lower, nuzzling her soft stomach. When her whole body twisted, he moved lower still and threw her legs over his shoulders.
Such a delicious pussy.
He didn’t need to be ashamed of wanting this, not now. Burying his face in her, he licked until her juices ran freely, teased her clit with his tongue, and thrust two fingers inside her. She came bucking on his face, drenching his beard in her fluids.
His cock ached so fiercely, no need to resist. She was soft and loving with satiation, welcoming when he sank into her. She was tight, so he had to go slow, letting her relax around his sizable cock. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, until she eased fully and wrapped her thighs around his hips.
No need to speak, just fuck.
He started slow but he couldn’t keep that rhythm. Soon he was slamming into her as hard as he could, shaking the whole bed. He grunted each time he seated fully, the need to come tingling in his balls and at the base of his spine.
It’s been so fucking long.
Joss held onto him with all her strength, coming a second time all over his throbbing cock. Those pulses broke the last of his restraint, and he thrust faster. The orgasm overwhelmed him, so powerful that his legs went to jelly, and he collapsed on top of her, his cock jerking and spurting in a release he had resisted for years.
Callum woke humping a tangle of blankets, his semen sticky on the fabric. He waited for the rush of shame because the order didn’t permit masturbation, but he could only revel in the glowing satisfaction.
With a groan, he rolled over and let his heart rate steady. There was no denying how much he wanted Joss anymore. For him to craft such a specific and erotic dream, he must be skating toward obsession. Part of him was even looking forward to the next time he went to bed, hoping for another explicit and gratifying dream.
While Saint Casimir hadn’t written anything about dealing with nocturnal emission, Callum felt sure that the order would take a dim view of him possessing so little control over his own mental state. The abbot hadn’t even wanted to let him answer the call when Callum found out that he’d abruptly inherited leadership at Burnt Amber.
“That’s not your world any longer, son,” the abbot had said. “The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
Callum had argued and taken leave, promising to return when the war ended and things were more settled with his secular kin. Which was why he had no help from the order, as he’d left without the abbot’s blessing. The old man was still muttering about prideful cubs when Callum took off.
It hadn’t been easy for a man of his grandiose appetites to live a celibate life, but he’d acclimated to it and been better off. Or so he’d thought. Now, it was hard to argue with the rush of endorphins he’d almost forgotten.
When he accepted that he just wasn’t going to feel guilty or ashamed about this, Callum got up, bundled his linens for the laundry, then he went to the bathroom to wash off a bit. Even basic hygiene felt a little different, as his skin was more sensitive after the blistering orgasm. His nipples tightened as he washed himself, and it took considerable self-control not to let the cleansing become more erotic.
Damn it all. My motor’s running again.
It had taken months of meditation to turn off that aspect of himself, but his libido was alive now, hungry and alert. And as he knew all too well, he tended to fixate on one person, well beyond what was sane or reasonable. Soon, he’d crave Joss to the point that she’d start to run from him. Right now, she sensed the pull between them, but she hadn’t glimpsed the dark side yet, the endless chasm of need in him that could never be filled.
Cursing softly, he finished up and gathered his things for an ice plunge. That was the least popular pool in the bathhouse but Callum sensed he’d be using it a lot from here on out.
It wasn’t quite dawn when he stepped out of his room, so he was surprised to find Renna passing by. She stopped when his door opened, but she seemed nervous, though Callum had no idea if it was simply his demeanor or an indication of a deeper issue.
“Good morning,” he said, wishing for the hundredth time that he knew how to treat her.
“You’re up early.”
Callum tried for a friendly smile, but his face didn’t cooperate. He could tell from her expression that he looked scary. “Usually am. The order doesn’t encourage sloth.”
“I imagine not. Well, I’m headed to take a bath, so—”
“I’m headed that way too. Shall we walk together?”
“Oh.” She seemed nonplused, as if she hadn’t expected him to offer. “Of course.”
Objectively speaking, Renna was more beautiful than Joss. There was no logical reason why he didn’t respond to her, except th
at maybe there were certain lines he couldn’t cross even in his own head. This woman had been chosen by his uncle, so even if they hadn’t mated, she was still off-limits? No, that wasn’t it.
Callum had always been…peculiar. He didn’t feel much of anything for most people, didn’t process affection or attraction the way others did. There were only minor exceptions, sparks of color and obsession in a monochrome world, and he could never identify what trait would catalyze the start of that emotional whirlwind because it was different each time. He hated living that way too, especially when the object of his interest invariably found him to be too much, a noose to escape rather than the lover they wanted to spend their lives with.
The brotherhood was safe, respite from that destructive cycle. For him, love wasn’t a gentle tide; it was a typhoon that left wreckage in its wake.
Without speaking, he held the door for Renna. She didn’t make conversation with him, and the silence was awkward. He’d seen her chatting cheerfully with others, so he must be the problem.
The darkness outside was lightening at the edges, pink and silver whispering of brightness to come. That felt like a false promise. Later today, he had to lead services for the lost soldiers. Ridiculous as it was, he was also the spiritual head of Burnt Amber, responsible for comforting all these aching souls.
And instead of writing homilies in his head, instead of planning devotions that would sooth the heartsore, this monk was thinking about how Joss would look, completely naked and beautifully impaled on his cock.
10.
So beautiful.
By rights, Joss should be referring to the chapel. The architecture was ornate and exquisitely embellished, frescoes and scrollwork, gabled windows glowing with stained glass, scenes from various religious stories. One pane showed Anwen’s Ride; another the first lighting of the candles in the rite of spring.
Everything was smooth stone and burnished, ancient wood, but she had no attention to spare for those details. Instead, she couldn’t take her eyes off Callum. From her seat in the first row, tucked between Trini and Renna, she ate him with her eyes, deciding something must be deeply askew in her head.
