Page 92 of A Monsoon Rising

As the orchestra segued into thetawindalen, a dance tune as fluid as quicksilver and as light as air, his large fingers latched onto the sides of her undergarments and tugged so frantically that she was surprised he didn’t rip them. She wiggled her hips to help, probably looking more comical than not, but it got the job done.

Alaric was impatient, though—he’d only just managed to wrestle the scrap of silk off one leg when he gave up and returned to the apex of her thighs. He afforded Talasyn no opportunity to be self-conscious, immediately sealing his lips over her—

—and it was firelight, it was music, it was static, it was open sky—

She’d often wondered what this would be like ever since she’d first heard of such an act, back in the Allfold regiments. Her imagination had fallen pathetically short of the real thing. His nose bumped against her bundle of nerves as he licked away at her, long and deep, his lips pressing together at the end of every stroke so that it felt like yet another little kiss, eachsensation sending out rivers of delight that rippled through her until she was delirious, yanking at his hair, grinding against his lush mouth. Sometimes it was too much and sometimes it wasn’t enough, but she didn’t care, urging him on with whimpers ofthereandyesandslowerandmore.

Her husband was blessedly quick on the uptake. When he worked out the rhythm that made her tick and set to it with a ruthless determination, Talasyn all butshouted, her spine arching, her head tipping back. She saw herself in the antechamber’s mirrored ceiling, her emerald skirts glittering against velvet burgundy cushions, her lips parted and Alaric’s dark head between her thighs, their figures bathed in gold. The masks, butterfly and stag, added to the illusion of depraved glamour, and she looked andfeltlike a goddess being worshipped, her hips writhing in time to thetawindalenas the orchestra played on in the next room.

“We shouldn’t,” she panted out, “… anyone can … walk in—”

“So?” Alaric pulled off her with an obscenely loud smack. He stared up at her with blazing, hungry eyes, the gold pigment running down his swollen bottom lip slightly smudged. “Let the Nenavarene see their Lachis’ka ride the Night Emperor’s face.” There was a ragged edge to his deep voice. His breath was hot against her wetness. “Let them see me make my wife scream. Let them know, beyond the Shadow and the turning of the stars, that you aremine.”

He bent his head over her again, lapping at her with his wicked tongue. Her body was caught between twisting away from him and chasing the bliss, and it decided on the latter when he began tosuck. Her thighs clamped around his neck, the heels of her shoes digging into his back, and he groaned and redoubled his efforts. Thetawindalensoared to its crescendoand so did she, her scream drowned out by the crashing symphony, her eyes flashing gold in the overhead reflection as she tipped over the edge and into the fiercest, mostgloriousclimax of her life.

Still on his knees, Alaric reached up to hold her through the aftershocks, the unmasked lower half of his face buried in the crook where her neck met her shoulder. “Have I made my point?” he asked gruffly.

“You should stop talking so much,” Talasyn replied, breathless. Dazed. “That mouth of yours can be put to far better use.”

She felt him smirk against her skin. She moved one hazy hand to punch him on the arm, but instead her fingers carded through the waves of his hair.

A question occurred to her, lazily, in the pleasant drowsiness of afterglow. “Where did you get the fool idea that I’d take favorites?”

He had the grace to appear embarrassed as he relayed what Lueve had told him.

Talasyn was puzzled. “Daya Rasmey can usually be relied on for her discretion. It’s odd that she would gossip about Queen Urduja’s past.”

“The wine loosened her lips, probably. You should scold her.” Alaric nuzzled at her collarbone. “But—later?”

“Yes.” Later seemed like a good idea. He was warm and she was content, and she wanted this moment to last just a little bit longer.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

When they rejoined the party, Talasyn was in the best mood Alaric had ever seen her in. She gave her smiles more freely to everyone and was even somewhat affectionate with him, leaning just the slightest bit into his side while they conversed with their guests and clutching at his sleeve whenever she addressed him. Before long he was emboldened to reciprocate, his hand resting on the small of her back as they moved from one group to the next.

I will have to dothatagain,Alaric thought, a smile of his own threatening to burst across his lips. Not only had the taste of her been incredible and addictive—the way sunlight felt—but he also couldn’t recall any other time he’d made someone so happy. It was intoxicating.

The masquerade didn’t start winding down until Queen Urduja had retired to one of the guest bedrooms upstairs in the early hours of the morning. Alaric and Talasyn positioned themselves near the ballroom’s main doors, accepting farewells from tired-looking nobles. A considerable number of guests were still dancing or consuming what remained of the food and drink.

Talasyn had been casting longing looks at those tables for the past several minutes. “I’m going to get something to eat,” she announced, and Alaric was not in the least bit shocked.

Whatdidcome as a surprise was seeing her peer up at him with those big brown eyes and add, “Do you want anything?”

“I’ve eaten my fill,” he drawled.

Sheblushed. Again, he had to bite back a smile as he watched her scurry off.

On her way to the refreshments, Talasyn came face to face with Ralya Musal once more. The hummingbird-beaked daya had Kai Gitab in tow, dressed as a porcupine. Poor eyesight had prevented the rajan from wearing a mask, but his spectacles had golden quills attached to their frames in honor of the occasion.

“Oh, Lachis’ka,” Ralya gushed, “Rajan Gitab and I were just discussing how brave you and His Majesty were on the Night of the World-Eater! You saved us all, and we really cannot thank you enough.”

“Indeed,” said Gitab. “My peers and I have long been at odds with the throne when it came to certain matters, but this near-catastrophe has highlighted what is truly important. From now on, all of my house’s resources are at your disposal.”

“As are mine,” said Ralya, not to be outdone. “Tepi Resok stands with you, Your Grace!” Her feathered earrings quivered with the strength of her enthusiasm.

Talasyn thanked them, somewhat shyly, but also feeling somewhat proud of herself. She was gathering allies from unlikely places. Gitab had privately sworn his loyalty months ago, in the hall of portraits at the Roof of Heaven; his public declaration now showed that he’d meant it.

It took some effort to politely extricate herself from the two nobles, but Talasyn eventually managed, her stomach rumbling. No sooner had she started digging into the foodlaid out on the moonlit tables by the ballroom’s large windows than another group accosted her—Jie, Niamha, and two of the other noblewomen who’d visited Iantas when Alaric first took up residence. They clustered around her excitedly.

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