Page 35 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
When I turn, I find Vaylen walking away at a clipped pace. Hurrying along on tiptoes, I sneak up behind him. He’s headed in the direction of my room, after all.
I clear my throat.
He jumps and looks back over his shoulder.
“Um, how come?” I ask, holding up the key.
“It was in the brief you received last night. You would know if you’d read it,” he replies, hurrying his step.
I lengthen my stride to walk right beside him. “If you remember, I spent all night in the infirmary. I barely got a chance to sleep.”
He grunts. “Well, there are a few hotels in the city that have a contract with the Sky Order. Skyriders get a deeply discounted rate. Make sure you get a receipt in the morning, so you can claim it as an expense in your monthly report.” The explanation comes in rapid fire, the words clipped and matter of fact.
Wow, really? More doors opening. When I get back, I need to go over that brief to find out what other benefits I can enjoy.
A long corridor—carpeted in red, the walls covered in gold-trimmed wallpaper—stretches before us. We walk side by side in silence. My mind works for something to say, but then Vaylen stops.
“This is me.” He turns to the door on the right and pulls the key from his pocket.
The number on his door reads E137. I check my key, then glance over my shoulder. My room is directly across from his. What are the chances?
“And… this is me.”
He seems ready to balk, but wouldn’t that be strange? Why would he do such a thing? He’s got his room. I’ve got mine, and the fact that they’re across from each other poses no problem at all, does it?
He keys the lock, so I do the same. I synchronize my movements with his so when he’s inside, ready to close the door, I’m his mirror image. We look at each other across the hall. He wears a deep frown. I put on an innocent, inviting smile. His hand tightens at his side.
“Good night,” I say, so quietly it’s almost a whisper, a gentle caress over feverish skin.
His throat bobs up and down, then he grunts and shuts the door, a near slam.
Well, he definitely seems rattled. It gives me a measure of satisfaction, though not enough. I close the door, disappointed, and press my back against it. I imagine him pacing circles in his room, ready to barge across the hall to tear my door down and get to me like some savage male ready to mate—the way male dragons were said to behave when Heratrix allowed it.
I snicker. What an idea! Vaylen is probably undressing and folding his uniform with anal precision, thinking of nothing but a good night’s sleep, while I stand here running a hand down my chest, traveling farther and farther south.
Stop it, Rhea. Who’s seducing who?
Actually, the man isn’t even trying, and here I am, wet in my undergarments from the mere thought of him shirtless. I wonder if his chest is smooth or peppered with hairs. Which one would I prefer? I’ve had both types, and I can’t say I prefer one or the other. I’ll have to wait and see.
I meander to the armchair in the corner and drape my coat over its back. Sitting, I remove my boots, then take off my trousers and jacket. The uniform shirt is long, reaching mid-thigh. In the small bathroom, I’m pleased to find luxurious soaps for body and hair. I pick up a creamy-looking bar with small purple flowers stuck in the middle and lift it to my nose.
Um, lavender.
I draw a luxurious bath and when I’m soaking in the tub, drowsy from the heat, I’m still thinking of Vaylen. My imagination has run away with the idea of taking off his shirt. I picture undoing each button slowly, revealing swaths of what turn out to be smooth, sun-kissed skin. Well, it seems I may have a preference, after all.
When I’ve released the last button, I push the shirt off his shoulders and take a step back to admire him. A shirtless man isn’t a novelty for me as it would be for most Embernian women. The sparring fields at Aerie Academy saw me and my mates through many gruesome workouts that left us breathless and shedding every last drop of sweat in our bodies. Removing one’s shirt, even for the female cadets, wasn’t unheard of, even if frowned upon by some of the oldest male teachers.
Holding the image of a strong man with perfectly defined muscles, my hand travels down my chest, caressing one breast and pinching the nipple to a point. A moan sounds in the back of my throat as my fingers settle over my core and begin to move in circles. Sensations ripple outward, sending goose bumps down my legs. A tense ache throbs in my center, begging to be released. My breaths come in short, shallow bursts, and I push my hips into my hand, finding my ministrations lacking. All my focus gathers into one small bud of pleasure. I move my hand more rapidly, my hips keeping the same pace, while I hold the thought of Vaylen’s bare chest in my mind. I’m on the verge of release, feeling as if I’ve reached the top of a mountain and I’m waiting for the inevitable free-fall.
It doesn’t come.
Frustrated, I growl and leave the tub. When I lie in bed, I feel exhausted and wound up. I close my eyes, fighting against many encroaching thoughts: Cindergrasp, Vaylen’s letter to Chief Inspector Cragmere, Gilbert’s death, Zephyros speaking inside my mind, my father’s unfeeling expression, the?—
I slam the mental door shut.
Compartmentalize, Rhea.
Forget the past and focus on the future. You’re needed here and now, and at the moment, the priority is sleep.
