“Was that not supposed to happen?”
“Too far from the water makes it hard to summon Love. It takes more energy. When they took over you, I thought it wasn’t enough. They didn’t speak, and then you both dropped to the ground. I thought I lost you.”
“You should know by now you aren’t getting rid of me,” I huff.
“I have been a horrible mentor to you,” she murmurs.
Orthia comes down on the floor next to me, her knees pressed into my side as she leans over to look in my eyes. A hand slides behind my neck and grasps my nape, her warm fingers pushing at the tendons until I’m putty in her hand. She stares at me with such a calculating focus, her brown eyes more alive than ever in the firelight.
“The thought of you suffering, of no longer being in my world, broke something in me that I thought was already dead,” she confesses. “For centuries, I have waited for Love to deliver you to me. I was callous and stupid to ignore you, to deny Love and you. You are my human, Delphini, myomphalos, and I can’t bear the thought of being without you.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks all the way down to my toes at her confession. I am hers. The thought sends my heart soaring, elation making tears prick in the corner of my eyes. Her apology is a sweet victory that I want to indulge in until the world ends. She is starting to change, or at least see me as changed. It’s a start.
This is how we should have started.
“I want a relationship,” I say bluntly. “I want the whole romance. I’ve never had that before, but I want it with you. I want to fall in love.”
“I won’t deny you those things. We can make our own romance,” she promises, leaning over to press a kiss to my forehead. She stays there for a moment, savouring the warmth of our connection. My fingers brush through her short hair and she hums with contentment before pulling back.
“We need to finish our conversation, but all I can think about is ripping this dress off of you.”
All the heat from the club, the feel of her in my arms, the press of her body against mine comes rushing back to me. My fingers shake as I grip on to her shirt. She doesn’t budge. Her free hand wraps around mine and I feel warmth burst through the touch until I’m no longer shaking.
“Promises, promises,” I tease.
A look takes over Orthia, one that’s all lust and determination. Her fingers pause at my hairline, asking for permission.
“Green,” I confirm.
She stays there a while, watching my breath come in shorter and shorter bursts as I wait for her to do more. Her thumb teases the side of my scalp, the blunt nail scraping against my skin. She doesn’t move to do more. My fingers flex against her shirt, trying to guide her down to me, but she doesn’t move.
“I have spent centuries waiting for this, do not think I will not bask in your beauty.”
“Kiss me,” I demand.
“Ask me nicely, wife.” She smirks.
“Will you kiss me, Captain?” I ask softly, worried that speaking too loudly now will break the spell between us.
“Until you are breathless,” she promises.
Orthia leans into me slowly. Her breath tickles my lips as I wait. I close my eyes, but when I move to complete the kiss she holds me in place. Her fist clenches in my hair and holds me back. My lips part. The words to demand more are there, so are the ones to beg like she genuinely wants me to, but then her nose brushes against mine.
The touch is warm, soft, completely contrasting to the grip at the base of my scalp that tingles with heat. Even as my heart flutters with the romance of it all, my clit is throbbing and it takes everything in me to not squirm, to not make demands. I don’t want our first time to be like that. This time, I will play nice.
“I want you to be a good girl for me.” She whispers. “Use your safe word if I take it too far. I need you to promise me.”
“I promise, Captain.”
She rewards me with her lips. They press against mine with urgency, unlike the patience she claims to have. Orthia tugs at my hair until I open for her. Her tongue, her tentacle, teases my teeth before slipping into my mouth. She holds me in place as she plunders me. Suckers pop against my tongue and I moan into the sensation. I wrap my lips tighter around the muscle until I can suck on it.
Orthia’s moan is like a victory call. The warmth of her touch bakes my thoughts until I can’t think straight. I don’t know which way is up or down, but I know that if she takes her lips from mine I might die. I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to make this kiss last longer. To feel her spit slick my lips like a fine gloss and to have her tentacle wrap around my tongue.
Her hand moves from mine, ghosting over the curves of my body until I feel her hard grip on my thigh. She takes control of me by the holster still strapped there, and I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips as she guides my leg up and straddles the other with her leather-clad ones. My softness moulds her hardened body to mine, cushions it from the harshness of the world just for this private moment. She places my raised thigh around her waist and I desperately want to grind my pussy against her until I see that pink light again.
The press of metal against my chest cools my thoughts and sends a shiver down my spine. She breaks the kiss to look at me, to wait for me to say something, but I lay there panting for air and clinging to her shirt.
That’s the dagger I used to kill Audrey. It’s clean, I assume, by Orthia while I was passed out. The blade is long, and the handle of it is plain, wax-sealed wood. It’s a well-loved weapon and expertly taken care of by its owner.
