Not exactly a surprise. After an hour of our group of six joking and laughing together—mostly at Arwen’s expense—in one of the main pools, the two riders had made it clear the rest of their evening would be occupied by other pursuits. Ones of the purely physical variety. Their new Daggerpoint men were promptly dragged away, assumedly to a more private location in the city proper where they would receive what Yara called, through a fit of unrepentant giggles, a “proper Paexyrian riding lesson.”
Sad as I was to see them go, I was grateful I would not become a firsthand witness to whatever she deemed a hearty Hylian welcome. Gods know, I’d already withstood enough gratuitous carnality this day to last a lifetime.
Alone in the quiet, I listen to the slosh of the incoming tide and let my waterlogged limbs float freely beneath the surface. I wonder if Soren’s left as well, or is still somewhere in the main pool. I lost sight of him sometime in the aftermath of the others’ departure. I feel not a trace of him through the bond. His maegic is fully muted from me.
Perhaps he found a partner of his own and headed back to the villa.
The thought makes me inexplicably tense, though I cannot explain why. It is no business of mine who he brings through the warded doors of his bedchamber. For all I know he keeps a full harem behind that thick slab of crystal.
I’ve heard you’ve quite the appetite…Melité’s voice purrs in my memory.You like to sample a wide variety of flavors…
I press my spine harder against the rocky edge of the pool, attempting to ground myself in the present. Clinging to my fraying sense of calm, I close my eyes on the stars and pull in a huge gulp of air. My emotions are uncomfortably close to the surface, however I try to force them down. My heart aches like an open wound, each beat pumping with contradictory feelings. And between my legs, at the very core of me, a different sort of ache—one stirred awake by siren song and building in strength all evening, no matter how I try to suppress it. One I am desperate to relieve before it consumes me from the inside out.
Through slivered lids, I scan the steaming surface for witnesses, but there is no one around to see. This particular pool was mostly unoccupied even before the mass exodus. On a sharp exhale, I allow my hand to slip between my parted thighs. My teeth score into my bottom lip, containing a gasp as my fingers find the source of all my pent-up pleasure.
Yes.
Gods, yes.
This is what I crave, what I’ve been craving for hours. Blissful release from the torturous uproar within. My fingers circle, chasing gratification with an impatience that normally might embarrass me, even alone beneath my bedcovers. But in this moment, I feel nothing except pure need.
I am so caught up, it takes me a moment to detect the gentle churn of unseen currents flowing around me—starting at my feet, moving up my legs, climbing from my fingertips to my arms, then winding around my shoulders. It is like being wrapped in an embrace. My back arches against the stone as warm tendrils of water slide over my damp skin with languid caresses, massaging every ounce of tautness out of my submerged shoulders, sluicingdown the length of my spine as it bows under rolling waves of mounting satisfaction.
In combination with my fingers, it feels unbelievably good.
Unnaturallygood, I realize with a start.
My hand stills as my eyes crack open, searching for him. For though Soren has long since shrouded his presence from me, I know with instant surety that he must still be here somewhere. This is his doing, this fluid glide of water across my skin, this kneading of muscle and sinew I feel all the way down to my marrow.
Calling a swift breeze, I sweep the steam from the surface and finally spot him. He is clear across the pool, some twenty paces away. Hardly more than a shadow. Still, I can see the faint silvery gleam of his irises as his maegic courses over my skin, never pausing in its quest to alleviate every bit of my tension.
Did he know that I’d been—
My cheeks are aflame. Of course he knows. Gods, how embarrassing. And, if I’m being entirely honest, frustrating. Need still swims within me, unsatisfied. But I cannot continue now. Not with him here to witness it.
Can I?
As though feeling my indecision, his tendrils of water keep at their soothing strokes up and down my body. He is not touching me; he is not anywhere near me. And yet, this phantomlike contact makes my heart pound so hard, I’m certain he can hear it.
My mouth opens to call out to him, fully prepared to tell him he has to stop, that this is wholly inappropriate. No words escape. Instead, a shallow huff of air slips from my lips as a thready breath hitches inside my throat. At the sound, our eyes lock across the moonlit pool. The moment they do, faint silver turns star bright as he stops muting his maegic. It floods into me, furls through me—sweeping away all my best intentions to stop whatever ishappening, along with all my mortification that he is bearing witness to this most private of moments.
Not only bearing witness, in fact, but…
Participating.
There is no longer room for embarrassment, though. The need coursing through my bloodstream is too strong to feel anything else. I am caught in a current of desire and can no longer hold it back. Even if I could, I no longer care to try. My fingers begin to move again, sending spikes of pleasure rocketing through my frame.
I hear a sharp intake of air from Soren as he senses what I’m doing beneath the surface. In the same instant, the water resumes its play across my skin, moving with new intent. Not mere relaxation anymore, but a sinuous seduction. I feel his maegic moving all over me, underneath me. Flowing down my back and up my limbs.
My whole body spasms as a warm rush of water slides between my parted legs, weaving its way to the precise spot where my fingers are rotating with ever-increasing speed. Doubling the sensation in a way that makes a cry catch in my throat.
Gods.
My breaths are shredded pants, coming fast. The ache within climbs to new extremes, higher and higher, moving toward an unquestionable peak. I feel its swift approach and do not attempt to stop it. Instead, I call it forth, eager to feel that moment of release.
Desperate for it.
I am nearly there all on my own. Yet when I see the unexpected movement of Soren’s arm across the pool, the rhythmic jerk of his fist beneath the surface as he strokes himself to the same precipice on which I am poised…