Page 112 of Shadows and Flames
Before we stepped forward, Meline mimicked my expression. I did not know whether to be grateful this version of her was coming forth again or aggravated by her. In our time together then and now, I had learned my queen and I were both prone to becoming lost to our emotions. My tendency was to turn inward, lest I burn everything to the ground. But my queen had a tendency to use harsh words and tone as a preemptive shield.
Or was that reserved just for me?
We selected an assortment of lamb and chicken, all grilled on skewers with onions and potatoes. They were wrapped loosely in wax paper, and the human gave us a paper bag to tote our friends’ meals the few minutes’ walk back to them.
Meline and I picked at our meals while we traversed the lively streets of where she used to call home. I’d not seen that side of her yet, the one in which she was able to truly relax and enjoy an evening traipsing a city and reveling in dancing, imbibing, or a simple meal with good company. Any time we tried, there was always some problem or imminent danger. Perhaps that was why we were both so tense all of the time.
“What do you want to do for the rest of the evening?” I asked. We’d still a few hours before we needed to sleep. I would imagine the others would be preoccupied with their own preparations for moving Tom and getting some rest.
Meline tore through a succulent chunk of lamb, finishing the last of her food as the lodging house came into view. We both stepped onto the street to cross. “What—you’d like to know whatI want now?” she grumbled and shoved her way through the entrance.
The front room was empty, the clerk at the front desk had their back turned, and I huffed a puff of smoke out of my nose. I tilted my head from side to side, stretching my neck and grinding my teeth while my queen and I began to climb the steps. Her hips swayed as she ascended, and I nearly reached out to swat her ass.
There would be time for that yet.
Chapter Forty-One
MELINE
“El?” I called out but made no further advance into the dark room, bathed in blues and grays. The end of this long day left my eyes and heart heavy. We were back in a familiar place, at one point somewhere I’d called home. Francie was finally back with Whitley, and even Cera’s sneers were comforting.
But I’d no idea where I stood with my cousin anymore, and the demon of my past who nearly dragged me to hell with him was back. This time coming for the family El held so dear. I’d suspected the King of Krisla had no idea his desire for having the assassin’s guild under his control brought him closer to his son, but all it would take was one look, one inhale of the air between them, and he would know.
With his red curls and green eyes, Marco was the spitting image of the female who’d whispered to me the name she chose for her babe as she begged me to take him away from the shadow of Krisla. Marco was kindhearted, more like Francie, Whitley, and Lydia than he would ever be like Cal. But when he was observing, focusing, his lips would settle in a determined line that threatened to send me careening back in time. When I’d delight in Cal’s scheming.
A punch of air left my lungs when my back thudded against the wall. My view of fluttering curtains and moonlight traded for that of El’s eyes, the flow of his loose hair.
After delivering food to my cousin and Cera, they’d woken Tom for him to put what little he could bear into his stomach. While I’d been sent out to procure more ingredients for the healers—peppermint, chamomile, glass jars, rags, and matches—Elián stayed behind to calmly explain to Tomás what would be happening next. I’d slipped out, fists balling, while the two of them were arguing in El’s mother tongue.
Now, Elián descended upon me, mouth taking mine in a rough, passionate attack of his lips. His body pressed against mine, and I wanted to swallow him whole, direct my frustration and desire to possess him and only him. I wanted to take El into me until we ceased to be apart, and I kissed him with such force. Feeling.
He sunk his teeth into my lower lip, groaning and winding his hips against my belly. With him, everything flooded in. Colors, taste. Now would we have that? No longer on opposite sides of a contract, no longer plagued by the mystery of Francie’s whereabouts. She was safe, with her mate and healing.
Now, could I heal? Did I deserve it?
I clung to El as we kissed, sinking into the embrace of the male I loved as he lifted me into his arms. I couldn’t see where he was headed, nor could I bring myself to care.
With the softness under my body, I assumed he brought me to the bed. And in the tenderness with which he deposited me onto the blankets, I dared believe that I deserved to heal. Even after our quarreling.
“Mm,” I moaned against his lips as he loomed over me. “El—” I gasped as he bit my lip hard enough to break the skin. I bled onto his tongue and darted mine out to meet his. “I’m sorry for earlier, I?—”
He cut off my words by clamping his hand over my mouth. With the other, Elián palmed between my legs, pressing in a way that had me groaning out into his skin.
“Nâ,” he growled, light in his eyes flaring. To my hazy mind, his fangs appeared even more deadly. Some of my blood was smeared on one of the tips, and the sight made me groan and move my hips against where touched me. “I know that you are weary and anxious, but you will remember that we are not adversaries.”
Instead of waiting for my response to that sharp condemnation, I nodded frantically. His feelings on the matter deserved true consideration, I was just—the thought of him leaving without me, possibly straight into more danger, this time at the hands of those who were supposed to protect him, was too much. Then he’d pressed on the same nerve my argument with Tana had already frayed, and I—I’d snipped at him. And not in the bantering way we could manage without truly hurting one another.
El pulled back, denying me the reassurance of his body against mine, and when I scrambled to brace my hands behind me, I was met with his hard glare. Him, standing at the foot of the bed.
“Take your clothes off.” My pulse leapt even higher, and though my gloved fingers were fumbling with the laces at my trousers, I was apparently not moving fast enough. “Faster,” Elián demanded, and I risked a glance at him.
My fingers slipped again, and my throat went dry. I swallowed as I shoved my trousers and undergarment down my legs while Elián watched, a dragon in the darkness. With the window at his back, his height and broad shoulders formed a sizable shadow while the fire in his stare glowed as he watched me.
The tunic was far easier to shed, and my toes curled as I lay there, spread naked. But Elián still hadn’t moved. His tunic was sleeveless and loosely tied at the front, and it was unfair how handsome it made him. I eyed what bits of his flesh I could see in the dark, trembling with how much I wanted to touch.
He crossed his arms, bulging the muscles and flexing the serpent winding up his shoulder. “Your gloves, too, Meline.” I obeyed, freeing myself of the last barrier between me and the rest of the world, and flung it to the floor. “Put your first two fingers in your mouth.” I shivered, eyelids lowering as Elián’s command simultaneously lit something within me and smoothed the edges I’d sharpened over the past few hours. Once my lips met the last knuckles of my fingers, El instructed, voice low and rough, “Suck.”
Of their own accord, my legs parted, and I laved my tongue against my own fingers. The sensation electrified my senses, leaving me grinding my hips on the mattress.
