A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire: Chapter 26

My bare feet curled against the wood floor as Kieran looked between Casteel and me, and I really wished I hadn’t learned of the Joining and how it could sometimes become…intimate.

Kieran being here while Casteel fed felt extremely intimate.

Casteel hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes, and I stood in the same spot as when he’d left, as if I’d been glued to the floor. It wasn’t that I had doubts. I just couldn’t believe I’d offered to do this—that not only did I want to do this but that I had also admitted that I cared for him. It felt like my life had once again changed irrevocably in a span of minutes.

“I don’t need to take a lot,” Casteel said to Kieran, who looked like he was about to go to war. Actually, they’d been battling with each other for the last ten minutes or so. Casteel was hesitating, and Kieran was about to throw him at me.

The wolven stood there, arms crossed, and eyes glittering. “You need to take more than a sip or two. You need to feed like you normally would.”

A muscle throbbed in Casteel’s jaw as he looked over to where I stood. I felt like I needed to say something, to offer reassurance because Casteel actually looked like he was a second from bolting. “Take what you need,” I told him, willing my voice steady.

Casteel stared at me, and for a moment, I saw a glint of incredulity in his gaze, and then his lashes lowered.

My heart thumped painfully against my chest as Casteel opened his eyes.

He took one step and then stopped. His chest rose and fell sharply. “This is your last chance to change your mind. Are you sure about this?”

Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Yes.”

His eyes closed once more, and when they reopened this time, only the thinnest strip of amber was visible. He dipped his chin, and the sharpness of hunger etched deeply into his features. “You know what to do.” His voice was rougher, barely recognizable as he spoke to where Kieran loomed. “If I don’t stop.”

But would Kieran intervene? My heart skipped a beat. A tendril of fear curled itself around the forbidden, wicked swell of anticipation within me.

Kieran moved behind me, and then I felt his fingers along the right side of my neck. I jumped a little, telling myself not to think about the Joining. To not even go there. Because if I did, I would be the one bolting from the room. “I’m just going to monitor your pulse,” he said quietly. “Just to be sure.”

My gaze fixed on Casteel. He reminded me of a caged animal whose cell was about to be unlocked. “Do you normally have to do that when…when he feeds?”

“No.” His fingers were cool against my neck. “But he’s too close to the edge right now.”

Too close to the edge…

Then it was too late for doubts.

Casteel was suddenly before me, the scent of lush spice and pine almost overwhelming. His fingers threaded through my hair, but he didn’t yank, even though I could feel his body vibrating with need.

I didn’t know if I consciously chose to connect with him at the moment or if my gift took control. His hunger immediately reached me, settling in my chest and stomach in a gnawing ache that seemed bottomless. And underneath that, the heaviness of concern.

His cheek grazed mine as he eased my head back and to the side. “There will only be a heartbeat of pain.” His breath was warm on my throat, his voice ragged. “I swear.”

Then he struck.

Fiery pain stole my breath, and my body jerked, interrupting the connection I’d forged with him. Instinct drove me to take a step back, but I bumped into Kieran. His hand landed on my shoulder, holding me there, and then Casteel’s arm swept around my waist. The pain flared brighter, stunning me, and then…

The heartbeat came and went.

Casteel’s mouth tugged at my skin, and I felt that staggering pull in every part of my body. The pain flashed out as quickly as it had overtaken me. All that was left, all that existed in the world was the feel of his mouth at my throat, the deep, long draws of my blood leaving me and filling him. My eyes had been open, fixed on the dull white plaster of the ceiling, but now they drifted shut as my lips parted. He drank from me, the fingers in my hair curling. His mouth lifted—

“That’s not enough,” Kieran said. “That’s nowhere near enough, Cas.”

Casteel’s forehead pressed to my shoulder as the hand against my back fisted the material of my robe.

The connection thrummed intensely, and I could still feel his hunger. It had eased a bit, but it was still acute. Kieran was right. He hadn’t taken enough.

Tentatively, I lifted my hands and touched his arms. Not his bare skin. I didn’t know if easing his pain would cause him to stop or not. “I’m okay.” My voice sounded breathless as if I had run circles around the fortress. “You need more. Take it.”

“She speaks the truth.” Kieran placed his hand above mine, squeezing Casteel’s arm. “Feed.”

Casteel shuddered, and then he lifted his head slightly. His lips grazed my jaw, and then the line of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as I bit down on the inside of my cheek. His lips pressed to the skin above the bite, a whisper of a kiss that startled me, and then his mouth closed over the tingling skin once more.

Every part of my body seemed to focus on where his mouth was fastened to my throat. Thoughts scattered as an ache blossomed to life low in my stomach and between my thighs. I tried to remember that Kieran was there, monitoring my pulse, and what we were doing was almost like…like a life-saving procedure, but I couldn’t hold onto any of those thoughts. With each pull against my skin, each tug that seemed to reach all the way to my toes, that throb pulsed, and the ache grew and grew, heating my blood and my skin.

I needed to think about anything but what it felt to have Casteel at my neck, his lips moving, the muscles of his arms bunching under my palms. But it was no use, and—oh, gods—the connection to him, it was still open. There was hunger, yes, but there was also more. A spicy, smoky flavor filled the back of my throat. The taste, the feeling, was heady and overwhelmed my senses. My body jerked with a pounding flood of desire that weakened my legs. I didn’t know how I was still standing or if Casteel or Kieran held me up. Each breath I took seemed too shallow as the ache moved to my breasts. Tension coiled tightly inside me, to the point of near anguish—a razor-sharp type of pleasure that left its own version of scars.

A sound came from Casteel, a throaty rumble. And then he moved suddenly, tugging deeply at my throat as he pressed into me—pressed me back against Kieran with unexpected strength. The wolven hit the wall behind us with a grunt as Casteel trapped us both. His mouth moved against my neck as his hips jerked against my belly—

Oh, gods.

I could feel him against me. I could feel him inside me—his desire and mine, churning and twisted together. A dull roaring sound filled my ears, and I was suddenly drowning in a torrent of sensations that came at me in endless waves. Trepidation and concern over what was happening while we weren’t alone, with Kieran there, lodged behind us, fully aware of what was occurring. Shame over the rush of slick dampness Casteel answered with a grind of his hips as his hands dropped to my waist. Desire that somehow merged with something deeper, something irrevocable, and disbelief as I curled my arm around his neck, as I held him, wanting to drown in this fire. Until I realized I already was.

I didn’t know at what point things had spun so out of control. When the way he held me, the way he pressed against me was no longer about quenching his thirst and more about assuaging a different hunger. I didn’t know exactly when I lost the fight against my body. I didn’t know when I’d stopped thinking about the fact that it wasn’t just Casteel’s body that touched mine, it wasn’t his chest that my head fell back against.

Was it the bite? Was it the need and the want that had been stroked to life the night at the Red Pearl that had never gone away, becoming the fire in my blood that simmered any time I was close to Casteel? Was it something reckless and wicked inside me, in the core of who I was, that allowed me to let go and to forget…everything? Or was it all of those things combined? I didn’t know—I didn’t know anything when Casteel’s hands trembled as they slid down my thigh, over the robe. He lifted me onto the tips of my toes, and then higher, drawing one leg around his waist. The lower half of the robe parted and the upper part slipped off my left shoulder. When his hardness pressed against the softest part of me, all I knew was that I had become the flames in my blood, something utterly unfamiliar to me, something daring and shameless. I was the fire, and Casteel was the air that fed it.

Casteel’s hips sank into mine, and my body answered without conscious thought, churning against him as he fed and fed. The tension coiled tighter. In the back of my mind, I didn’t know if it was the bite or the feel of him between my thighs that was quickly driving me precariously close to the edge.

“That’s enough,” Kieran said. His voice should’ve been a shock, but it was only a source of frustration. “That’s enough, Casteel.”

Body throbbing, I opened my eyes in a daze as Casteel’s chest rose swiftly against mine. A moment passed, and then whatever air I had left abandoned me as I felt the wet, sinful lap of his tongue below the bite and then against it. The tension pulsed again, and then his mouth lifted from my neck. That was as far as he moved for several moments, and then he stepped back, taking me with him as my heart and blood kept pounding and I continued to ache. One of his arms folded over my waist, his other hand returning to my hair, guiding my head down. I buried my face in his neck, taking in his scent and just breathing. Both of my legs were curled around his waist, and I wasn’t even sure when that had happened, but he held me there, no space between our bodies as he looked over my shoulder at Kieran.

“Thank you,” he said roughly.

“You’re okay?” Kieran asked, and I felt Casteel nod. “Penellaphe?”

My tongue felt heavy, but I managed to work out a muffled, “Yes.”

“Good.” The air stirred around us as Kieran brushed past. The door creaked open, and cool wind teased the bare parts of my skin, but it did nothing to stifle the heat.

“Thank you,” Casteel said again to Kieran, and then the door closed. His head turned to mine. “Thank you,” he whispered.

I said nothing as I held him, caught in a storm of…desire. Casteel moved, bending and lowering me to the bed. The back of my head rested on the pillow as his hands slid out from underneath me. I felt the bed dip with his weight as he sat beside me, and I opened my eyes.

Casteel was close, his hands on either side of my head as he hovered over me. I could see that the robe had slipped even farther, revealing the upper swell of my breast. The tips of my breasts tented the thin material of the soft robe. And lower, one entire leg was visible, all the way to the crease of my thigh and hip. I should fix the robe, cover myself. I should be embarrassed, but I didn’t move my hands. It wasn’t that I couldn’t. I simply didn’t as I shifted my gaze to his.

Those eyes blazed like heated honey, beautiful and consuming. Neither of us spoke as his chest rose and fell, his breaths as rapid as mine. His muscles were rigid as he held himself in check. I knew that was what he was doing, because I was still connected to him, open to him for longer than I had ever been open to anyone, and I no longer felt the gnawing hunger. What I felt was rich and smoky, and nearly as intense. My breath hitched, and I burned even more.

His lips parted, and the tips of his fangs appeared. The bite tingled so sharply that a shivery wave crashed through me, causing my thighs to squeeze, and my hips to twitch.

Casteel’s eyes closed as he drew in a ragged breath. “Poppy…” There was a wealth of need in that one word, in my name. I trembled. Then his eyes opened again, and they were nearly luminous. “You’ve already given so much of yourself, done so much for me,” he said, and I thought he spoke of more than just my blood. His mouth lowered, and the anticipation swelled. He stopped mere inches from my mouth as his hand curved around my hip. “Let me do this for you. Let me take away the ache.”

My heart clamored even as my entire body went tight. I needed to say no. There were a hundred different reasons for that. But that wasn’t what came out of my mouth in a husky voice that was not mine. “But what about your ache?”

A fine tremor coursed through him. “This isn’t about me.” His hand drifted over my stomach, to where my skin was bared at the left hip. “Let me thank you the only way I can right now. Let me show you my gratitude.”

I could barely breathe or think. I pulled my senses back, thinking that would help clear my mind, but my desire still beat at me, in tune with my unsteady heart. And I realized that I was still the fire. I still wanted, right or wrong, just like I had this morning, which felt like an eternity ago.

I was vaguely aware of my head moving in a nod, and then Casteel’s chin dipped, and his lips grazed mine. He turned me onto my side, away from him, as he stretched out behind me. Confused, I looked over my shoulder at him as he shifted onto his elbow and met my gaze.

“You’re so brave,” he murmured, tugging me into the cradle of his hips. The robe had slipped, and there was nothing but his breeches between the curve of my rear and the hard length of him now. I bit down on my lip as he skimmed his hand down my thigh, lifting my leg up, just enough for one of his to slide between mine.

He drew his hand up my side, over my arm, and then moved back down. “And strong.”

The robe slipped more, seeming to follow his hand. I looked to see that the material had parted even more, exposing one breast. Warmth suffused my cheeks when I saw the evidence of my desire in the turgid peak. His hand closed over my breast, drawing a gasp from me as his thumb swirled over the nub. My back arched into the touch, into him.

“So generous,” he rasped, sliding his hand down lower, below my navel and over my bare hip then lower still. His fingers met the wetness gathering there, and then he cupped me. His touch was like a brand as he idly drew one finger over the very center of me in light, playful strokes that caused my entire body to twitch. He continued with those featherlight touches until I thought I would stretch beyond my skin, that I surely would ignite, and then he sank a finger inside me. My head kicked back against his chest as a breathy sound escaped me. “So fucking beautiful,” he gritted out, withdrawing his finger until he was almost free of my body and then inching it back in.

He angled his hand so his thumb danced over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he continued to stroke with that long, talented finger of his, pumping it slowly in and out, taking more and more of my breath with each thrust of his digit. He worked his other arm around me, folding it across my chest. He palmed the too-tight breast as he worked in a second finger, stretching me, feeding the fire even more.

I cried out, pressing against his hand, against him. His breath came in rough bursts as I turned my head to see him watching his hands, watching me lift and grind against it. I slipped into the balmy sensation, falling maddeningly into it. Reality fell away. I hadn’t been the captive. He hadn’t been the captor. We weren’t partners in an agreement, each using the other. It was just us, his skilled fingers and hands, the warmth of his arms, the glorious tightening within me, and when he trembled, cursing as I rode his hand, rode the hard length that pressed against me from behind. It was all those things, and the sudden thrill of power and control.

He started to angle his body so there was space between us, but I’d given in to the fire. I reached back, curled my fingers around his hip, and dug in my nails in a silent demand.

Casteel obeyed.

He submitted with another curse and a brief, hot pass of his lips across the curve of mine as his fingers plunged harder, deeper. I rocked against him, and there was no rhythm as we both moved and strained. The curl low in my stomach spun and spun—

“Poppy, I—” He broke off as I placed my other hand over his, holding him to me as I worked him.

And it happened—the tightening and curling, all of it unraveled, stroking out through every limb. I moaned as release powered through me, as I shuddered around his fingers, and he shuddered against me, still moving those damn digits of his and eliciting every whipping wave of sensation he could until my hands fell away from him, and I went limp. Until his breathing steadied against my cheek. Then, slowly, he eased out of me.

His hand didn’t move far though, instead gliding up and stopping just below my navel. He tugged the halves of my robe closed with his other hand, holding it in place just below my breasts. There was something about the act that seemed…gentle.

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.