Page 49 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
My eyes open suddenly, the dream fading away until all I see is the ceiling of my tower. I inhale deeply through my mouth, still feeling that intense yearning despite being completely awake.That was my first ever dream like that.
“Holy gods,” I whisper into the night as I squeeze my thighs together, surprise growing at the slickness between them. A burning desire to use my hand on myself to relieve the aching I still feel ignites within me, but then Bella’s soft snores by my side quickly douse that flame. Still, when I close my eyes, all I see is the heat in Flynn’s gaze. All I hear is the sound of his hungry groan. And all I feel are his hands gripping me in places no one ever has before. It takes a while for sleep to find me again.
Bella and I spent the morning watching the sun rise on the balcony. The sky paints the land in gold and light blue while the warm breeze brings the scent of the flowers at the base of the tower with it. When the sun fully crests the horizon I come inside to draw a bath, leaving Bella outside. I managed to get some sleep last night, but while I didn’t have anothersensualdream, the desire still lingers on the edges of my mind, like an oath unfulfilled.
My fingers drag lazily across my abdomen, goosebumps rising in their wake under the water. Looking over the edge of the tub, I confirm that Bella hasn’t come upstairs before sliding further into the water, my hand moving closer to that aching spot at my core. When the tip of my finger reaches the bundle of nerves there, I gasp at how sensitive it already is. My thighs squeeze together as I begin to circle, a languid feeling unraveling and moving up from my toes. As my mind starts replaying moments of the dream, I am reminded of the way it felt to have Flynn’s body so close to mine. The way his mouth collided with my own as our tongues met in the middle. I bite down on my lower lip to stifle a moan, my hand moving quicker as I reach the brink of an orgasm faster than I ever have before. The memory of the dream morphs into my last visit with Flynn. It’s not overtly sexual—just him sitting across from me, looking with rapt interest as he usually does—but it’s enough. I gasp for breath as that tension builds and builds until it bursts open, my release barreling through me so intensely that I have to cover my mouth with my other hand. I keep my finger moving in those tight circles through the wave, my hips jerking in tandem.
I wait for that moment after an orgasm where my body feels sated and relaxed, but it doesn’t come. Instead, my finger keeps moving, and I slide my hand down from my mouth to gently circle over my nipple, causing it to peak under my touch. New fantasies flood my mind filled with images of him kneeling at the edge of the tub, replacing my delicate hands with his larger, calloused ones. A breathy moan, as quiet as I can keep it, leaves me as I bring myself back to that teetering edge again. All because of him—his hands and his mouth and that smirk and his hair. But it’s also his kindness and humor and the way he looks at me like I’m someone of value.Not just a regular girl.I shudder, the coiling tension finally releasing, leaving me feeling boneless.
I relax again into the tub, letting the feel of the warm water calm my quickened heart. My magic pushes on my stomach and at the base of my spine as its warmth travels through my arms and legs. I haven’t called on it since that fateful night, but the urge to do so now is nearly overwhelming. Lifting a hand out of the water, my palm facing up, I close my eyes and concentrate on directing the magic. Even with my lids closed, I can see the glowing white light there within seconds. I open my eyes and move my hand closer to me as I feel the staticky warmth tickling my fingers and palm. It lights up the gray stone around me, turning it into something completely different, something warm and bright.
I wonder if using my magic, even in this capacity, is something I should try to do more often. There is a sense of relief after using it, but I’m unsure if it’s my own feeling or the magic’s. Can magic evenhavefeelings? It’s one of the many questions I have about thisability, if I can call it that. Where did it come from? What else can it do? Is it alive? Knowing? Sentient? Can it be honed into somethingmore? Which makes me wonder why I sometimes feel that ancient, dark coldness mixed in with the light. Is that magic as well? I think a part of me hopes that it is, if only to explain away why I sometimes feel sootherwhen it curls and coils within me. And if it isn’t magic, is it the consequence of boxing up my feelings and shoving them down within me? Did I accidentally create something in the dark abyss of my grief and sadness that mirrored the way I felt? And if I did, how do I make it go away?
Chapter Twenty-Five: Rhea
“Whatisallthis?”I ask Flynn as he walks in, carrying a black basket and what looks like a knowing smile. I had spent most of the day balancing between trying to forget the dream I had of him and trying to forget the orgasms I gave myself because of it. Now that he’s here, it’s taking everything I can muster not to drag my gaze down his body. But I can’t keep my eyes off of the way his hands grip the basket or my ears from hearing the strong cadence of his steps as he moves past me and into the living area. And then of course there is the way he smells and that secretive little smile and…Damn it.
I force myself to take some deep breaths as I step up next to him, my gaze anywhere other than his chest, which is at my eye level. When I finally get myself under control, I move to the couch expecting that’s where we are going to sit, but his fingers gently grab my own, halting my movements.
“I was thinking we could go outside, on the balcony.”
“The balcony?” I screech, nearly horrified. There’s no way he could know what happened on that very balcony in my dream, but I can’t help the blush that creeps up from my neck and onto my cheeks.
“Yes, is that okay?” he asks, a single brow slowly raising. His stupid handsome face glows in the candlelight, and I have to look away before I accidentally reveal how I’m feeling to him.
Gods above and below,help me. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” I stumble as I rush past him and out into the night air.
“Alright then.” He laughs behind me, his steps following mine. He sets the basket down in the center of the balcony before coming to stand next to me, his hands laying flat on the wide stone railing. “Wow, it’s a beautiful view from up here.”
I gulp as I nod. My head is too filled with thoughts and memories of things that haven’t actually happened—but felt real enough—to respond. After a few moments, Flynn turns and starts taking items out of the basket. I stand back and watch as he lays down a dark blue blanket and a variety of different foods in glass containers. Next, he pulls out two plates and two forks—an item I know how to use in theory, but in actuality never have. When he finishes setting everything up, he spreads his arms out to the sides.
“It’s a picnic,” he declares as he smiles at me. “Normally, you have them in a meadow or underneath a tree, and it’s usually daytime, but we can make this work.” He takes a seat on the edge of the blanket and gestures for me to do the same. The food in the middle smells incredible, the air now laced with things I have no name for.
“How did you get all of this?” I ask, my fingers trailing along the edge of my plate.
Flynn watches the movement, lost in a daze for a moment before he looks back up at me. “I had Tienne and Erica help,” he explains, gesturing to the meat at the center of everything before continuing, “This is roasted chicken. Then we have a mixed green salad, roasted potatoes, and a special dessert that I’m keeping a secret.” All foods that I have read about but have never experienced eating.
His eyes sparkle under the moonlight, doing nothing to ease the adrenaline coursing through my veins, making my body come alive just from being near him. He holds out his hand for my plate, and I tell him I want to try a little bit of everything.
“Let’s see if roasted chicken is actually worth being your favorite food,” I tease, poking a piece with my fork and bringing it to my mouth. The texture of it is silkier than I thought it would be, since nearly all the meat I’ve ever eaten has been dried for easy storage. Once, Alexi brought me freshly cooked pork, but that was much greasier than this. The flavors are savory and earthy and something else I don’t have a name for. It’s salty too, and when I clear my throat and move to stand up and get some water, Flynn quickly flips open the lid of the basket and pulls out a small glass bottle, the color too dark to see what the liquid inside is.
“This is just fruit juice,” he says, noting the way I look warily at it. “I was going to bring wine, but I wasn’t sure if you had ever had alcohol before, and I didn’t want your first experience with it to be here.” He uncorks the bottle and hands it to me. Tentatively lifting it to my nose, I sniff, the fruity scent pleasant enough that I take a drink. It’s overly sweet and a little tangy, the flavors coating my tongue and throat delightfully.
I hand the bottle back to him as I respond, “It’s really good. So is the chicken. I suppose it isn’t theworstfood to have as your favorite.” I chuckle at his triumphant smile.
Flynn snorts, turning his attention back to his food as we eat in contented silence. Eventually Bella comes out, leaning over to try everything leftover on my plate. I’ve been full from eating before, but never quite like this. My body feels different in the wake of eating food freshly prepared. I offer to clean up the dishes once we are both done, but Flynn shakes his head and carefully stacks everything up to place back into the basket, pulling a small bundle wrapped in parchment paper out before he does so.
“When I saw that the baker had made this for today, I had Tienne and Erica grab extra for us,” he says as his hands begin to unwrap the item until a familiar scent permeates the air.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, a half-choked laugh coming from me. Laying in the center of the brown paper are two slices of lemon loaf.
“It’s your favorite, right?” he asks. I can feel him looking me over, feel his excitement start to falter because of the way I freeze as I stare at the dessert. Emotions flash through me as a knot grows in my throat. Its jagged edges make it hard to breathe, hard to think past. “Sunshine…” His voice trails off as I meet his gaze, unable to stop the tears flowing out of the corners of my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, quickly wiping at the wetness now streaking down my cheeks.
“Talk to me, what can I do?”
I shake my head, clearing my throat as I look out into the night sky. “Alexi was the last person to bring me lemon loaf before he died. He was theonlyperson to ever bring me any treat like this before you, and I just—” I inhale and hold it, my chest expanding painfully before I allow the breath to slowly seep out of me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why this keeps happening.”
