Rhapsodic
Page 66
I watch him with awe, my eyelids lazy. His high cheekbones are even sharper at this angle, his crafty eyes focused on my face as his hands squeeze my thighs.
“Too good, Callie—”
I move my hand faster.
He hisses out another breath, his hands moving over me like they’re trying find exactly what they want to touch but can’t decide. Eventually, they settle on my hips.
I work him, feeling his body tense beneath me.
He groans. “Going to come …”
I lean in and kiss him as he jerks against me, again and again and again. His fingers tighten against my flesh, trying to pull me closer to him.
I smile against his mouth when I finally feel him relax.
He breathes heavily against me, leaning his forehead against mine. “You want to know a real secret?” he rasps.
I nod against him.
“I want to wake up to you every single morning.”
This time when we head to the Otherworld, I know the drill.
We crossover, arriving at another set of fae ruins—this one a stone circle made up of statue after statue of solemn fae men and women—before Des flies us to his palace.
He holds me close, and I catch him more than once staring at me with an unguarded look in his eyes.
Like he wants more of me.
I never gave him the chance earlier. Right after he came, I slipped away from his bed.
Why did I run? Perhaps because I was scared of what I did to our relationship. And perhaps because I wanted to give him something to fixate on, the same way I’ve fixated on his confession last night.
Only, now I’m beginning to fixate on this morning too. With every heated look he gives me and every silent promise in his eyes that he’s going to finish what I’ve started.
The fae king is hungry, and he’s used to getting what he wants.
I try to focus on the task at hand—visiting the sleeping warriors—but it’s no use. I’m more aware of the Bargainer than ever.
We break through the cloud cover, and once again I catch sight of that magnificent city of his.
“What’s it called?” I ask, nodding to the Bargainer’s floating city.
“Somnia,” he replies, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “The land of sleep and small death. The capitol of my kingdom.”
The land of sleep and small death. That sounds dark and magical … which is Des in a nutshell.
He banks sharply to the left, circling the city as we begin to descend. People creep out onto their terraces and into the streets to watch us land. More gather outside the gates in front of the castle.
“The next biggest city,” the Bargainer continues, “is Barbos, then it’s Lephys, then Phyllia and Memnos—sister cities connected by a bridge. Arestys is the smallest, poorest …” His expression darkens.
“Are they all floating cities?” I ask.
“They are.”
“I want to see them.”
What am I saying? Surely that didn’t come from my mouth? The last thing I want to do is spend more time in the Otherworld.
Des looks down at me.
“… Starting with Arestys,” I add breathlessly.
Seriously, Callie, you crazy bitch, stop talking.
But I can’t, not when he’s looking at me like that.
“Then I’ll take you to them all,” he says, his silver eyes shining like he can’t get enough of my words.
I might as well have hammered the last nail in my coffin myself.
Just had to open your mouth …
Des soars over the front of the castle, and unlike the grand entrance we made last time, the two of us land softly on one of the palace’s back terraces.
He eases me to my feet before his wings disappear.
“No fancy entrance this time?” I ask.
“Tonight I didn’t want to share you.” His wings shimmer out of existence as he speaks.
Just as his wings disappear, his simple bronze circlet materializes. Under the black T-shirt he wears, I see the lowest of the three bronze war bands appear as well.
I smile at the sight of him, my crooked king, with his frayed shirt and simple crown. Right now he looks neither fae nor human. He looks like something better than either.
Casually, he takes my hand and leads me inside the palace. We head down a wide hallway and through a room full of swords and scepters on display.
The fae we pass don’t spare a glance at Des’s attire, though they themselves wear embroidered dresses and tunics and suits with fancy buttons and beadwork.
What his subjects do stare at is me. Me and my hand, clasped in the king’s. When I catch them looking, they bow low, murmuring Your Majesty to us as we pass.
I’m antsy to remove my hand, if only to stop them from staring. Des, meanwhile, is unfazed by any of it.
He leads me outside the palace, down a suspended arched walkway that connects two of the castle’s spires, and I have a moment to take in the sweeping architecture of this place. The palace sits at the highest point of Somnia, the rest of the buildings dropping away on all sides.
From here the world looks to be made up of thousands and thousands of stars, each one brighter than the last. Beneath us, levels and levels of white stone houses dot the land, some even trailing down chasms cut into the city. It gives a whole new meaning to the fae term under the mountain.
Once again I’m struck by how magical, how impossible, this place is. The city of dreams and small deaths looks like something from a dream. Something I’m sure I’ll wake from.
The two of us enter another tower, leaving the night sky once more. Des steers us down several more hallways until, eventually, we stop in front of a hammered bronze door, the top of it curved like a Moroccan archway, and he ushers me inside.
“Too good, Callie—”
I move my hand faster.
He hisses out another breath, his hands moving over me like they’re trying find exactly what they want to touch but can’t decide. Eventually, they settle on my hips.
I work him, feeling his body tense beneath me.
He groans. “Going to come …”
I lean in and kiss him as he jerks against me, again and again and again. His fingers tighten against my flesh, trying to pull me closer to him.
I smile against his mouth when I finally feel him relax.
He breathes heavily against me, leaning his forehead against mine. “You want to know a real secret?” he rasps.
I nod against him.
“I want to wake up to you every single morning.”
This time when we head to the Otherworld, I know the drill.
We crossover, arriving at another set of fae ruins—this one a stone circle made up of statue after statue of solemn fae men and women—before Des flies us to his palace.
He holds me close, and I catch him more than once staring at me with an unguarded look in his eyes.
Like he wants more of me.
I never gave him the chance earlier. Right after he came, I slipped away from his bed.
Why did I run? Perhaps because I was scared of what I did to our relationship. And perhaps because I wanted to give him something to fixate on, the same way I’ve fixated on his confession last night.
Only, now I’m beginning to fixate on this morning too. With every heated look he gives me and every silent promise in his eyes that he’s going to finish what I’ve started.
The fae king is hungry, and he’s used to getting what he wants.
I try to focus on the task at hand—visiting the sleeping warriors—but it’s no use. I’m more aware of the Bargainer than ever.
We break through the cloud cover, and once again I catch sight of that magnificent city of his.
“What’s it called?” I ask, nodding to the Bargainer’s floating city.
“Somnia,” he replies, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “The land of sleep and small death. The capitol of my kingdom.”
The land of sleep and small death. That sounds dark and magical … which is Des in a nutshell.
He banks sharply to the left, circling the city as we begin to descend. People creep out onto their terraces and into the streets to watch us land. More gather outside the gates in front of the castle.
“The next biggest city,” the Bargainer continues, “is Barbos, then it’s Lephys, then Phyllia and Memnos—sister cities connected by a bridge. Arestys is the smallest, poorest …” His expression darkens.
“Are they all floating cities?” I ask.
“They are.”
“I want to see them.”
What am I saying? Surely that didn’t come from my mouth? The last thing I want to do is spend more time in the Otherworld.
Des looks down at me.
“… Starting with Arestys,” I add breathlessly.
Seriously, Callie, you crazy bitch, stop talking.
But I can’t, not when he’s looking at me like that.
“Then I’ll take you to them all,” he says, his silver eyes shining like he can’t get enough of my words.
I might as well have hammered the last nail in my coffin myself.
Just had to open your mouth …
Des soars over the front of the castle, and unlike the grand entrance we made last time, the two of us land softly on one of the palace’s back terraces.
He eases me to my feet before his wings disappear.
“No fancy entrance this time?” I ask.
“Tonight I didn’t want to share you.” His wings shimmer out of existence as he speaks.
Just as his wings disappear, his simple bronze circlet materializes. Under the black T-shirt he wears, I see the lowest of the three bronze war bands appear as well.
I smile at the sight of him, my crooked king, with his frayed shirt and simple crown. Right now he looks neither fae nor human. He looks like something better than either.
Casually, he takes my hand and leads me inside the palace. We head down a wide hallway and through a room full of swords and scepters on display.
The fae we pass don’t spare a glance at Des’s attire, though they themselves wear embroidered dresses and tunics and suits with fancy buttons and beadwork.
What his subjects do stare at is me. Me and my hand, clasped in the king’s. When I catch them looking, they bow low, murmuring Your Majesty to us as we pass.
I’m antsy to remove my hand, if only to stop them from staring. Des, meanwhile, is unfazed by any of it.
He leads me outside the palace, down a suspended arched walkway that connects two of the castle’s spires, and I have a moment to take in the sweeping architecture of this place. The palace sits at the highest point of Somnia, the rest of the buildings dropping away on all sides.
From here the world looks to be made up of thousands and thousands of stars, each one brighter than the last. Beneath us, levels and levels of white stone houses dot the land, some even trailing down chasms cut into the city. It gives a whole new meaning to the fae term under the mountain.
Once again I’m struck by how magical, how impossible, this place is. The city of dreams and small deaths looks like something from a dream. Something I’m sure I’ll wake from.
The two of us enter another tower, leaving the night sky once more. Des steers us down several more hallways until, eventually, we stop in front of a hammered bronze door, the top of it curved like a Moroccan archway, and he ushers me inside.
