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n_wilkinsona/n: Warnings this chapter for serious fluff and also, serious het smut. Yay. About time for some het smut. This is very much NSFW.
Title: Whispers of Yesterday
Series: Infinity's End, Book Two
Description: Now firmly entrenched in the Theravada -- and firmly involved with Gale as well -- Ione discovers the hidden sides of both Grayshire and Theravada. She questions her own decisions -- and her feelings -- as the war takes on a more murderous, personal turn for the worst.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21)
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Chapter Twelve
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Ione struggled out of the darkness as though escaping physical, clinging tendrils of it, peeling the clutching black away from her skin and her inner thoughts. She fought with grim determination, clawing her way out and gasping for breath when she finally broke free. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, only to immediately close again when the harsh brightness of Kieran’s special white lights nearly blinded her.
Wincing, she tried to lift a hand to cover her eyes, but her fingers were trapped by something warm. Lifting the other hand proved successful, though it was swaddled thickly in bandages, and Ione placed her palm over her eyes. Her head was throbbing like mad, her mouth parched as though she hadn’t touched water in weeks. Her entire body felt as if she had been wrung out like a wet rag, with nothing left to give. Her arm ached, throbbed, but she was alive.
Had she been that close to dying?
“Very close,” Aponi murmured into Ione’s ears, wings fluttering and brushing against Ione’s hair. Apparently, Ione had asked the last aloud.
The small butterfly sounded exhausted, her aether a quiescent ripple around her body. Relief, however, shone in her voice.
“Too close,” Fenris added, and the mattress at Ione’s feet shifted, a warm wet settling over one of her legs. She didn’t even have to look to know that the wolf was there, watching her with concerned, lupine eyes. “You are too reckless, cub.”
For a brief, startling moment, Ione was lost at what could have brought her to the hospice. Until the past came back to him in startling clarity. The trek into Varos, the fight with the Merihem, and then the subsequent battle with a Special Ops Douzaine. Ione had fought with Anisa, had killed her, and on the way back home, had succumbed to a poison.
A part of her couldn’t believe it. That a simple scrape would almost kill her, a simple scrape that Anisa had caused. Anisa had tried to kill her, and Ione had killed her in return. It didn’t seem justified.
Forcing a breath past his lips, Ione peeled her eyes open once more, letting her injured hand slide back down to her side. It had started throbbing again. Her other hand was still warm. Ione followed the path from her shoulder to arm to hand, finding her fingers firmly clasped within longer, thinner ones. Gale’s fingers.
Her eyes traveled further, finally setting sight on a head that was pillowed on the bed, pressed against Ione’s hip. In fact, most of Gale’s upper body was laid across the bed, leaving the rest of him in a certainly uncomfortable position perched on a chair. Gale’s face was turned toward her, slackened with sleep, which seemed like a good thing considering the fatigue that lined his usually cheerful face. His forehead was pinched, as though he was suffering from a bad dream.
On impulse alone, Ione reached out with her free hand, smoothing the tips of her fingers over the furrowed brow. Her mind was still fuzzy from waking, and the lingering effects of whatever the hell that poisonous concoction had been.
Gale stirred beneath her touch, and exhaled softly as his eyes opened, bright green peering blearily up at her. Confusion flickered across Gale's face before he abruptly sat up, chair screeching behind him from the sudden movement.
“Ione,” he murmured, leaning forward with obvious relief. “You’re awake.” His other hand came up, clasping her fingers between them.
Ione swallowed thickly, her throat feeling dry and thick. “Yeah,” she said, and squeezed his fingers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
She looked past Gale, seeing her uncle on the bed a few feet behind Gale. Kieran’s chest was rising in even intervals, looking far better the glimpses Ione half-remembered in her delirious state. She remembered that he had collapsed before she did, pricked by one of the Douzaine’s darts. And on the other side of her uncle, she could just pick out a head of brown hair, Azriel lying in a position that almost mimicked Gale’s.
“Uncle Kieran?”
“He'll be fine,” Gale said, and his voice sounded thick to Ione, strained and barely contained within his slight frame.
Ione’s eyes, still not responding as quickly as she would like, shifted slowly back to her lover. Gale was watching her, something peculiar in his expression that Ione couldn’t quite place or name. He couldn't even begin to associate it with something, the look a mixture of so many emotions that it was difficult to pin even one.
“Gale?”
He stirred when Ione called his name, his other hand pressing the pads of his fingers against Ione's arm. They brushed shortly, a feather-light touch, against the white bandages that covered the remnants of the small scratch that had nearly killed Ione.
Gale licked his lips, and it was only then that Ione realized the hand she held was trembling. “I've never felt so helpless in my entire life,” Gale murmured. And it was very nearly broken. “You were dying, and I couldn't do anything but watch and wait.”
It wasn't entirely her fault, and yet, Ione felt guilty. She wanted to apologize, though she wasn't sure why. She simply knew that she didn't like that look on Gale's face, one that spoke of fear and grief. Ione much preferred the blushing but confident Gale she knew.
She didn't know what to say, having never been in this situation before. She wanted to kiss Gale, but her aching body wouldn't respond to her commands. It was melded to the comfort of the bed and preferred to remain that way. But she had to erase that look; it was killing her, her heart feeling as if someone was squeezing it out of her chest.
Ione lifted her hand, hating how much effort that required, and managed to curl her hand around Gale's face. Her fingers slipped into blond strands, softer than she had ever thought they would be against her skin. And then, her thumb rubbed gently over an aristocratic cheekbone. It was always strange to her, how very pretty he was.
“Gale,” she murmured, hating that her voice sounded so scratchy and hoarse, betraying the current frailty of her health. She hated feeling weak. “Kiss me.”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, and then, Gale's lips were on hers, mouth tasting faintly of strawberries and tea. The kiss was slow, leisurely and gentle like Gale feared breaking her. Ione's fingers massaged against Gale's head and deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue into her lover's mouth and reminding him that she was still here. Actions always spoke a hell of a lot better than words.
She ended the kiss with a lingering lick of her lips, and Gale pressed his forehead to Ione’s, letting out a small sigh of relief.
“You scared us,” he admitted, and a part of Ione was glad he’d closed his eyes, that she couldn’t see all the pain she had caused him. “You scared me,” he added, his breath a warm brush across Ione’s lips.
“Sorry,” Ione whispered, really not knowing what else to say. “I didn't mean to.” With a great effort, she shifted a few inches on the bed in silent invitation.
Gale took her up on the offer, climbing onto the mattress beside her, curling his body against her side. A low breath escaped him as he winced.
“Those chairs were not made for comfort,” Gale muttered, nuzzling into the side of her neck, where his breath ghosted across her skin.
“I don’t think they were made for sleeping,” Ione said, feeling incredibly drained but soaking up the comfort of his nearness, the warmth his body radiated. “How long was I out?”
“Four days,” Fenris answered with a visible yawn, his eyelids drooping sleepily. “Two of them spent recovering. You’ll be tired, but you should be right as rain by tomorrow.”
Ione closed her eyes, mind spinning dizzily, still trying to wrap around the fact that her childhood friend had intended to kill her.
“Just get some rest,” Gale all but insisted, his own voice sounding as though he was going to slide into sleep at any moment as well. “We can worry about everything else later.”
With the fatigue tugging at her, Ione was more than willing to oblige.
o0o0o
“Gale, honestly, I can walk on my own,” Ione said, exasperated as she gently extracted herself from his support.
He looked sheepish, but granted her the space as Ione pushed her arms above her head and stretched for the first time in five days. It felt wonderful, though the sound of all her bones cracking and popping wasn’t attractive in the least. Ione was just glad to no longer be cooped up in the hospice, and felt rather refreshed after a hot meal and a nice soak in the baths. She felt like herself again, with her thoughts clear and her senses alert. Even her aether felt vibrant, settling around her body like a familiar cloak.
Fenris, too, had returned to his former energies, bowing out of accompanying them back to their quarters in order to track down Inari. And Aponi was a chipper little butterfly, practically buzzing with energy as she perched on Ione’s ear, all but purring.
“You were bedridden for four days, Ione. Cut him a little ssslack,” Quetz suggested, popping her head out of the confines of Gale’s tunic.
Rolling her neck, Ione dragged her fingers over her scalp, letting her damp air flop gracelessly over her shoulders. “I know. But that doesn’t make me an invalid,” she retorted, and sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of their shared quarters. It smelled like her and Gale, like metal and rainstorms and sandalwood.
“Do you always have to be so stubborn?” Aponi asked, voice curious as she suddenly alit from Ione’s ear, flapping to take up a position on the windowsill. The vibrancy of her wings was in beautiful contrast to the pale teak of the shutters.
Ione grinned, but more at the sight of her familiar and oh so comfortable bed. “It’s in my nature,” she said, and flopped down on top of the mattress, rolling around on the soft comforter a bit, much like a dog trying to find the most comfortable spot. “Oh bed, how I have missed you.”
“Just the bed?” Gale remarked, having closed the door behind them and tossing their dirty garments in the direction of the wash basket. A basket that was looking rather full and in desperate need of being attended.
Ione wriggled out of her robe, tossing it to the ground until she stretched out over the bed in just her undergarments. “And other things,” she said, tucking her arm under her head as she watched Gale approach, shimmying out of his heavy outer robe. Like her, he let it crumple to the floor.
Ione smiled as she watched him slide out of his clothing, obviously intent to join her in bed. The meeting to discuss recent events wasn’t until the morning, and though Ione felt recovered, there was a part of her that could still use some rest. And now that she knew her uncle was going to be just fine, she felt she could breathe a sigh of relief. If Gale wanted to join her in bed, well, Ione wasn’t going to argue.
Though she didn’t like how he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes.
“Care to share?” Gale asked, a light tone in his voice, teasing that didn’t quite reach his expression.
She watched as he lifted Quetz from around his neck, lowering the snake to the ground where she slithered toward the pile of blankets in the corner. It was her bed, more or less, where she buried herself in the thick cloth and was quite content.
“I’d rather you just join me,” Ione said, admiring him as he stripped to his knickers, ever present blush riding on his cheeks.
The bed dipped as Gale crawled onto the mattress beside her, one hand resting on her waist, fingers spread across her bare skin. “Tired?” Gale asked, his eyes tracking the moment of his hand as he stroked a long path from the edge of her breastcloth and down to the strap of her panties before back again. Gentle, caressing motions that made Ione’s skin tingle.
“Not in the way you think,” Ione said, and leaned forward, closing the space between them. Her lips captured his, the kiss between them gentle and sweet. As though something to be treasured.
His hand settled on her waist warmly and Ione moved closer, sliding her arm around him until she could press her palm against his upper back, urging him nearer. She could feel his aether as it pulsed against hers, mingling together and Ione internally purred. She loved that sensation as it was much like he was touching her without physical hands.
Ione deepened the kiss, her tongue flicking over his lips before sliding into his mouth, tasting tea and cinnamon on his tongue. They’d had some apple cobbler in the kitchens, and the traces of it still lingered on his lips. She loved the sweetness of it, loved when his tongue slid into her mouth with a soft urgency as he groaned into the kiss. Desire coiled in Ione’s belly as she moved nearer, wanting to feel him flesh to flesh, to feel his hands on her.
Gale broke away from her lips, only to nibble along her jawline, his hand stroking down to the flat planes of her belly. His breath was moist and warm as it puffed against her throat and Ione tilted her head back, granting him more room. Her fingers pressed against his back, her pulse quickening. It felt like forever since he had last touched her, though it was less than a week ago. The time in between, however, seemed to have dragged into eternity.
Abruptly, Gale rolled, pinning her beneath his warm weight, not that Ione minded one bit. One knee nudged between her thighs as his arms landed on either side of her, trapping Ione beneath him. She pushed her body toward him, encouraging more touches, as her hands slid up his bare back, nails gently dragging over his pale skin. He marked so easily, sometimes, it was like a game to Ione.
“This doesn’t seem like a nap to me,” Ione murmured as one of Gale’s hands wandered toward her breastcloth, a quick flick of his wrist undoing the twist of fabric and loosening it from her chest.
“Would you rather sleep?” Gale asked, kissing his way down her throat and across her collarbone, his path quite evident.
A palm cupped Ione’s breast, thumb rubbing over her tightened nipple and Ione gasped, arching into the touch. “Maybe later,” she said, and rubbed her inner thigh against his leg, encouraging him to nudge his knee a little further up, give her something to rock against. She took that opportunity to slide one hand around, cupping his groin and massaging the flesh hidden beneath his knickers.
His breath stuttered against her bare skin as his tongue lapped a path to her right breast. “I seem to remember owing you,” Gale murmured before his mouth landed at her nipple, flicking the tip of his tongue over the pebbled nub.
“A man after my own heart,” Ione said, and stroked the hardening flesh in her palm, feeling him lengthen at her touch.
Gale chuckled and his lips closed around her nibble, sucking lightly as his tongue continued to flick over the tip. Each caress was like a direct line to her groin and Ione squirmed, heat flushing through her body. Gale had learned so very well, as though taking mental notes and quickly learning how to apply them.
His tongue loved her nipple in hot and wet caresses before he released the pebbled flesh with a slight pop, drawing back and licking his lips. A hand reached for her panties, quickly dropping them down from her body with her help.
“I don’t think you need these,” he said, dropping them off the side.
Ione returned the gesture by tugging off his knickers, laughing lightly as he performed an odd, clumsy shuffle of his body to detangle the fabric from his ankles. It was only times like this that Gale was less than graceful, and Ione couldn’t help but find it adorable. Gale would never be the fierce, assertive, and composed lover that Malcolm had been, but Ione wasn’t disappointed. She rather liked Gale as he was.
Heat burning his cheeks, Gale settled back over her and between her thighs, elbows against the mattress to either side of her head. His hair hung around his head in a short and pale curtain, the dying sunlight peering through the shutters enough light for Ione to see his face.
Green eyes were bright with desire, heated with hunger, and Ione’s free hand slid fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his face. He was looking at her, and Ione wasn’t sure how to interpret the look.
“What?”
His eyes seemed to roam over her expression, as though memorizing each line and the shape of her face. “They almost killed you,” he said quietly.
Ione felt her breath catch in her throat, an unconscious need to squirm at the tone of his voice. “But they didn’t. I’m alive and well and right here.” She tried for a smile, but it fell flat in the face of the seriousness he presented.
“It wasn’t me they were after,” Gale continued, his brow furrowing as though trying to reason something out in his head. “It was you. They aimed for you. Why? Because it would hurt me? I don’t know.” He sighed, eyes closing briefly. “If not for Neorah, I would be like Sabriel. Lost and grieving.”
“But you’re not,” Ione said, the heaviness of the moment sitting on her chest like a physical presence. “Gale, we can’t focus on 'almosts' and 'ifs.' Otherwise, it’ll drive us crazy with 'could have beens.' I’m here now. Not dead and very much alive.”
Gale’s eyes slid open, bright and open completely honest. There were times, when he looked at her like that, it was hard for Ione to believe he was the same man who had once led the Arlen clan as its head. That he was the same man who could ruthlessly destroy his enemy, callously suggest torture and death for a captive. Give orders for assassination to his own cousin. Sometimes, there was such innocence in Gale’s eyes, that Ione couldn’t reconcile the two.
“I know that,” he said, and turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “But I realized something as well.”
“What?”
“This isn’t a game. Not for me. This is real.” His eyes returned to hers again, shining with so much emotion she was momentarily taken aback. “This is more real than I ever thought I would be lucky enough to experience.”
Ione’s eyes widened at the implications of his words. Even as naïve and dense as Ione could be, Gale had all but spelled it for her.
She sucked in a breath, heart suddenly pounding in her chest. “Gale. I…”
“It’s okay,” he reassured, and smiled at her, total gentleness, no sign of the politician or the assassin. Just Gale; her Gale. “I’m not asking to hear this in return. I’m telling you because I’ll regret it if I don’t, and because this belongs to you.”
Ione was at a loss for words. She truly hadn’t spent much time examining her feelings. And admittedly, wasn’t sure to how to treat a relationship compared to what her connections with men usually consisted of. Gale wasn’t just a one time fling or a roll in the hay. He wasn’t just a night of fun. He was more than that, but Ione wasn’t exactly sure how much more.
She licked her lips, unable to hide her confusion. “Kiss me,” Ione demanded. Because she couldn't say the real words. Not just yet.
Gale pressed his lips to her palm again, never taking his eyes from hers. It was strangely erotic, and Ione felt a thrill race down her spine.
He didn’t stop with just her palm however. His tongue lapped a wide, wet path up and across her fingers before drawing the tips of them into his mouth. Wet warmth closed about her fingers, oddly enticing, and Ione swallowed thickly. She wanted him; she always did. Even if her feelings weren’t settled, desire was easier to recognize, to accept.
Her moist fingers cupped his cheek, turning him to face her. Ione licked her lips in obvious invitation, and her heart thudded loudly in her chest at the smoldering desire in his eyes. He lowered his head and their mouths met, exchanging breath briefly before the kiss deepened, lips touching and then the tips of their tongues.
Gale always tasted strangely sweet, no matter what, as though spun from sugar and other untainted things. Even though Ione knew the truth to be much more bitter. Everything about him was so damn incongruent that it baffled her. Yet, she only seemed to want him more and more.
He kissed her deeply, one hand moving to cup her head to help him direct the kiss. His tongue slid skillfully along hers – a skill she had helped guide him into mastering. Gale’s knee moved between her legs, nudging at her damp center, making a thrill race down Ione’s spine. She wanted him inside her, moving slow and steady, pushing deeper and deeper so that she could feel every inch of him.
Gale’s other hand skirted down her side, long and slow strokes that made her skin tingle. She moaned, low in her throat, one leg curling around his hip to pull him closer, until she could feel his hard cock brushing against her wet folds. Teasing touches that only amped her arousal, made her arch her hips toward him in encouragement.
Ione slid an arm around Gale’s back, palm pressed against Gale’s bare skin, fingers splayed. She nipped at his lips, her calf pressing against Gale’s hips.
“Gale,” she breathed into the kiss. “Come on.”
A sound came from low in his throat, mixture of moan and whimper. “As you wish,” he said and his hand skirted down to her hip, gripping her tightly.
He lowered himself closer, the head of his arousal teasing at her damp folds before pressing into her, slow and gentle. So that she could feel every inch of him as he slid inside, her body welcoming him with no protest. A slow, sweet burn spread through Ione’s body as he entered her, and she all but purred, arching into the penetration. He was long, perfectly thick, and she loved the way he felt inside of her. Ione could feel him throbbing, a steady pace, certain to match the beat of his heart.
Ione draped her other leg around Gale’s waist, hooking her ankles together to anchor herself as Gale was fully seated inside of her. He didn’t move immediately, lingering as her inner walls pulsed and rippled around him. Ione clenched down, loving the small burn such an action provoked, and the small sound Gale made in his throat. He kissed her as though tasting her for the first time, tongue tracing her mouth, lips tracing the curve of her jaw and the small jut of her chin.
Her skin prickled with goosebumps, though Ione was far from cold. Not with the heat Gale practically radiated above her, his fingers rhythmically clenching on her hip. His other hand fell away from her head, moving to brace against the bed. His mouth was hot and warm on her throat and Ione soaked in the sensation, the ache between her thighs building into a steady fire, banked by every one of his skilled touches.
Just when she was at the point of asking him to move, Gale seemed to sense her desire. He started a careful pace, pulling out, only to thrust into her again. Slow at first, and then faster, rocking in and out of her in a motion that made her spine tingle. Ione moaned encouragement, her breath quickening.
Sweat dotted her skin, and every time Ione inhaled, she could smell Gale. The scents that were unique to him and those that weren’t. Rainstorms and fresh spring and the sharp bite of lightning always clung to his skin like a perfume. But it wasn’t a cologne. It was the scent of his magic, and it danced on her senses as much as the feel of his aether curling around her was a physical presence. She could feel it settling over them like a warm and heavy blanket, coiling with her own. She almost suspected to open her eyes and find magic rippling in the air, watch it twist and tangle together, like an elegant dance.
Ione didn’t know if her magic smelled like anything. If it did, Gale hadn’t mentioned it. She supposed Gale couldn’t help it. All that power packed into a tiny frame, it had to emerge somehow. And Ione was more than willing to reap the benefits.
She inhaled deeply, swallowing the scent of him, and shivered when it seemed to settle deep inside of her, joining the heat of her rising desire. The bed creaked, and the sound of their bodies sliding together filled the room. Her nipples brushed his smooth chest every time he pushed into her, sending little shocks of pleasure through her body. Gale’s heavy breathing was audible, tangible as it brushed over her bare skin, over her ear, the curve of her throat. He all but nuzzled against her, as though trying to show with his body the proof of his words.
Ione felt an ache inside of her, one that had nothing to do with the physical joining of their bodies. He had this much to offer and she had nothing to give in return. At least, not yet. It felt a little selfish, even if he had claimed it belonged to her.
She reached up, winding both arms around his neck and dragging his mouth back to hers, desperate to prove something. Ione might not be able to say the words, to claim that she loved him or anything just yet. But she did like him, she did want him, and she was glad to be at his side. It was all Ione could prove, with her body. Her lips and her tongue and the embrace of her aether as it eagerly twined with Gale’s own.
They kissed as the desire built and swelled between them, throbbing through Ione’s body like a tidal wave. She moaned into the kiss, nerve endings aflame with pleasure. She clenched own on him, hips rocking in tune with his thrusts, taking him deeper, feeling him swell inside of her. She was already so close, dancing on a precipice.
Ione arched her back, heels digging into him as she molded their bodies together, putting a delicious pressure on her sensitive flesh. It sent a shock of want through her and the kiss turned sloppy, more a scattered press of lips and teeth and tongue.
“So close, so close,” she whispered, one hand going to his head where she tangled her fingers in his blond hair, always so damn soft.
“Come for me,” Gale murmured in return, his hips slamming against hers a little harder than before, jarring but also damn arousing. His hand left her hip, skating up her side, taking a breast in hand, thumb and forefinger rubbing over her nipple.
Ione’s back arched, a cry escaping her lips as she writhed beneath his touch. The cry in her throat couldn’t have been sexy as she thrust her hips down against his, riding his body, riding the feel of him inside of her. She was so close, almost there, so close. A whine built up in her chest as Ione dug her nails into Gale’s back, a flash of fire starting in her groin and quickly branching outward.
She gasped, eyes clenching shut as pleasure raced through her, making her skin tingle, her muscles clench. Her aether flowed out from her body, tendrils like clinging vines as they wound about her and Gale.
Her climax echoing through her, Ione tugged on Gale’s lower lip with her teeth, deepening a kiss, determined to drag him into release after her. It wouldn’t be difficult, considering the state of affairs. His breathing was ragged, his skin coated with sweat.
Ione unwound her legs from his waist, bracing her feet against the bed as she met his thrusts, increased in their pace and intensity. He tore his mouth from hers, burying his face in her throat as his hands clenched on the mattress, desperately seeking that release. Ione, still feeling the last tremors of her own climax, moaned softly, encouragingly.
Words muffled in Ione’s throat as Gale reached his peak, slamming his hips against hers and spilling inside her body. He groaned, a throaty, sexy sound, rocking against her warmth. Ione felt a stab of desire mix with a dash of fatigue – Gale was so damn sexy when he came – and couldn’t decide which avenue she’d like to pursue more. Another taste of Gale or the wonderful world of sleep.
Gale’s lips dragged back to Ione’s in a slow but sloppy kiss, and she hummed against his mouth, enjoying the languid pace. She could feel his body thrumming, sense the energy in his aether. Warm feelings surrounded Ione; she could sense them in his aether. Feelings like acceptance and joy and even stronger emotions, ones Ione didn’t dare name.
Part of her felt like she should speak. Another part of her was too afraid of what might emerge. Ione opted for neither, stealing Gale’s lips again and demanding more with her body. Rolling them over until she straddled his hips and his lingering arousal, until she could look down at him with her hands planted on his chest.
Green eyes still glimmered with want and desire, open with so much feeling. And Ione had no words to offer in return. Only action.
She kissed him again, and let that speak for itself. That and the heat winding between their bodies, the curl of their aether, already so familiar. And the feel of his hands as they slid up and down her sides, perfectly willing to accept more
****
A/n: Very sorry for the long delay on this one folks. New job, new position, less time to work on writing like I want.
Comments are love, even just to tell me you're liking the fic.
Title: Whispers of Yesterday
Series: Infinity's End, Book Two
Description: Now firmly entrenched in the Theravada -- and firmly involved with Gale as well -- Ione discovers the hidden sides of both Grayshire and Theravada. She questions her own decisions -- and her feelings -- as the war takes on a more murderous, personal turn for the worst.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21)
Chapter Twelve
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Ione struggled out of the darkness as though escaping physical, clinging tendrils of it, peeling the clutching black away from her skin and her inner thoughts. She fought with grim determination, clawing her way out and gasping for breath when she finally broke free. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, only to immediately close again when the harsh brightness of Kieran’s special white lights nearly blinded her.
Wincing, she tried to lift a hand to cover her eyes, but her fingers were trapped by something warm. Lifting the other hand proved successful, though it was swaddled thickly in bandages, and Ione placed her palm over her eyes. Her head was throbbing like mad, her mouth parched as though she hadn’t touched water in weeks. Her entire body felt as if she had been wrung out like a wet rag, with nothing left to give. Her arm ached, throbbed, but she was alive.
Had she been that close to dying?
“Very close,” Aponi murmured into Ione’s ears, wings fluttering and brushing against Ione’s hair. Apparently, Ione had asked the last aloud.
The small butterfly sounded exhausted, her aether a quiescent ripple around her body. Relief, however, shone in her voice.
“Too close,” Fenris added, and the mattress at Ione’s feet shifted, a warm wet settling over one of her legs. She didn’t even have to look to know that the wolf was there, watching her with concerned, lupine eyes. “You are too reckless, cub.”
For a brief, startling moment, Ione was lost at what could have brought her to the hospice. Until the past came back to him in startling clarity. The trek into Varos, the fight with the Merihem, and then the subsequent battle with a Special Ops Douzaine. Ione had fought with Anisa, had killed her, and on the way back home, had succumbed to a poison.
A part of her couldn’t believe it. That a simple scrape would almost kill her, a simple scrape that Anisa had caused. Anisa had tried to kill her, and Ione had killed her in return. It didn’t seem justified.
Forcing a breath past his lips, Ione peeled her eyes open once more, letting her injured hand slide back down to her side. It had started throbbing again. Her other hand was still warm. Ione followed the path from her shoulder to arm to hand, finding her fingers firmly clasped within longer, thinner ones. Gale’s fingers.
Her eyes traveled further, finally setting sight on a head that was pillowed on the bed, pressed against Ione’s hip. In fact, most of Gale’s upper body was laid across the bed, leaving the rest of him in a certainly uncomfortable position perched on a chair. Gale’s face was turned toward her, slackened with sleep, which seemed like a good thing considering the fatigue that lined his usually cheerful face. His forehead was pinched, as though he was suffering from a bad dream.
On impulse alone, Ione reached out with her free hand, smoothing the tips of her fingers over the furrowed brow. Her mind was still fuzzy from waking, and the lingering effects of whatever the hell that poisonous concoction had been.
Gale stirred beneath her touch, and exhaled softly as his eyes opened, bright green peering blearily up at her. Confusion flickered across Gale's face before he abruptly sat up, chair screeching behind him from the sudden movement.
“Ione,” he murmured, leaning forward with obvious relief. “You’re awake.” His other hand came up, clasping her fingers between them.
Ione swallowed thickly, her throat feeling dry and thick. “Yeah,” she said, and squeezed his fingers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
She looked past Gale, seeing her uncle on the bed a few feet behind Gale. Kieran’s chest was rising in even intervals, looking far better the glimpses Ione half-remembered in her delirious state. She remembered that he had collapsed before she did, pricked by one of the Douzaine’s darts. And on the other side of her uncle, she could just pick out a head of brown hair, Azriel lying in a position that almost mimicked Gale’s.
“Uncle Kieran?”
“He'll be fine,” Gale said, and his voice sounded thick to Ione, strained and barely contained within his slight frame.
Ione’s eyes, still not responding as quickly as she would like, shifted slowly back to her lover. Gale was watching her, something peculiar in his expression that Ione couldn’t quite place or name. He couldn't even begin to associate it with something, the look a mixture of so many emotions that it was difficult to pin even one.
“Gale?”
He stirred when Ione called his name, his other hand pressing the pads of his fingers against Ione's arm. They brushed shortly, a feather-light touch, against the white bandages that covered the remnants of the small scratch that had nearly killed Ione.
Gale licked his lips, and it was only then that Ione realized the hand she held was trembling. “I've never felt so helpless in my entire life,” Gale murmured. And it was very nearly broken. “You were dying, and I couldn't do anything but watch and wait.”
It wasn't entirely her fault, and yet, Ione felt guilty. She wanted to apologize, though she wasn't sure why. She simply knew that she didn't like that look on Gale's face, one that spoke of fear and grief. Ione much preferred the blushing but confident Gale she knew.
She didn't know what to say, having never been in this situation before. She wanted to kiss Gale, but her aching body wouldn't respond to her commands. It was melded to the comfort of the bed and preferred to remain that way. But she had to erase that look; it was killing her, her heart feeling as if someone was squeezing it out of her chest.
Ione lifted her hand, hating how much effort that required, and managed to curl her hand around Gale's face. Her fingers slipped into blond strands, softer than she had ever thought they would be against her skin. And then, her thumb rubbed gently over an aristocratic cheekbone. It was always strange to her, how very pretty he was.
“Gale,” she murmured, hating that her voice sounded so scratchy and hoarse, betraying the current frailty of her health. She hated feeling weak. “Kiss me.”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, and then, Gale's lips were on hers, mouth tasting faintly of strawberries and tea. The kiss was slow, leisurely and gentle like Gale feared breaking her. Ione's fingers massaged against Gale's head and deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue into her lover's mouth and reminding him that she was still here. Actions always spoke a hell of a lot better than words.
She ended the kiss with a lingering lick of her lips, and Gale pressed his forehead to Ione’s, letting out a small sigh of relief.
“You scared us,” he admitted, and a part of Ione was glad he’d closed his eyes, that she couldn’t see all the pain she had caused him. “You scared me,” he added, his breath a warm brush across Ione’s lips.
“Sorry,” Ione whispered, really not knowing what else to say. “I didn't mean to.” With a great effort, she shifted a few inches on the bed in silent invitation.
Gale took her up on the offer, climbing onto the mattress beside her, curling his body against her side. A low breath escaped him as he winced.
“Those chairs were not made for comfort,” Gale muttered, nuzzling into the side of her neck, where his breath ghosted across her skin.
“I don’t think they were made for sleeping,” Ione said, feeling incredibly drained but soaking up the comfort of his nearness, the warmth his body radiated. “How long was I out?”
“Four days,” Fenris answered with a visible yawn, his eyelids drooping sleepily. “Two of them spent recovering. You’ll be tired, but you should be right as rain by tomorrow.”
Ione closed her eyes, mind spinning dizzily, still trying to wrap around the fact that her childhood friend had intended to kill her.
“Just get some rest,” Gale all but insisted, his own voice sounding as though he was going to slide into sleep at any moment as well. “We can worry about everything else later.”
With the fatigue tugging at her, Ione was more than willing to oblige.
“Gale, honestly, I can walk on my own,” Ione said, exasperated as she gently extracted herself from his support.
He looked sheepish, but granted her the space as Ione pushed her arms above her head and stretched for the first time in five days. It felt wonderful, though the sound of all her bones cracking and popping wasn’t attractive in the least. Ione was just glad to no longer be cooped up in the hospice, and felt rather refreshed after a hot meal and a nice soak in the baths. She felt like herself again, with her thoughts clear and her senses alert. Even her aether felt vibrant, settling around her body like a familiar cloak.
Fenris, too, had returned to his former energies, bowing out of accompanying them back to their quarters in order to track down Inari. And Aponi was a chipper little butterfly, practically buzzing with energy as she perched on Ione’s ear, all but purring.
“You were bedridden for four days, Ione. Cut him a little ssslack,” Quetz suggested, popping her head out of the confines of Gale’s tunic.
Rolling her neck, Ione dragged her fingers over her scalp, letting her damp air flop gracelessly over her shoulders. “I know. But that doesn’t make me an invalid,” she retorted, and sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of their shared quarters. It smelled like her and Gale, like metal and rainstorms and sandalwood.
“Do you always have to be so stubborn?” Aponi asked, voice curious as she suddenly alit from Ione’s ear, flapping to take up a position on the windowsill. The vibrancy of her wings was in beautiful contrast to the pale teak of the shutters.
Ione grinned, but more at the sight of her familiar and oh so comfortable bed. “It’s in my nature,” she said, and flopped down on top of the mattress, rolling around on the soft comforter a bit, much like a dog trying to find the most comfortable spot. “Oh bed, how I have missed you.”
“Just the bed?” Gale remarked, having closed the door behind them and tossing their dirty garments in the direction of the wash basket. A basket that was looking rather full and in desperate need of being attended.
Ione wriggled out of her robe, tossing it to the ground until she stretched out over the bed in just her undergarments. “And other things,” she said, tucking her arm under her head as she watched Gale approach, shimmying out of his heavy outer robe. Like her, he let it crumple to the floor.
Ione smiled as she watched him slide out of his clothing, obviously intent to join her in bed. The meeting to discuss recent events wasn’t until the morning, and though Ione felt recovered, there was a part of her that could still use some rest. And now that she knew her uncle was going to be just fine, she felt she could breathe a sigh of relief. If Gale wanted to join her in bed, well, Ione wasn’t going to argue.
Though she didn’t like how he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes.
“Care to share?” Gale asked, a light tone in his voice, teasing that didn’t quite reach his expression.
She watched as he lifted Quetz from around his neck, lowering the snake to the ground where she slithered toward the pile of blankets in the corner. It was her bed, more or less, where she buried herself in the thick cloth and was quite content.
“I’d rather you just join me,” Ione said, admiring him as he stripped to his knickers, ever present blush riding on his cheeks.
The bed dipped as Gale crawled onto the mattress beside her, one hand resting on her waist, fingers spread across her bare skin. “Tired?” Gale asked, his eyes tracking the moment of his hand as he stroked a long path from the edge of her breastcloth and down to the strap of her panties before back again. Gentle, caressing motions that made Ione’s skin tingle.
“Not in the way you think,” Ione said, and leaned forward, closing the space between them. Her lips captured his, the kiss between them gentle and sweet. As though something to be treasured.
His hand settled on her waist warmly and Ione moved closer, sliding her arm around him until she could press her palm against his upper back, urging him nearer. She could feel his aether as it pulsed against hers, mingling together and Ione internally purred. She loved that sensation as it was much like he was touching her without physical hands.
Ione deepened the kiss, her tongue flicking over his lips before sliding into his mouth, tasting tea and cinnamon on his tongue. They’d had some apple cobbler in the kitchens, and the traces of it still lingered on his lips. She loved the sweetness of it, loved when his tongue slid into her mouth with a soft urgency as he groaned into the kiss. Desire coiled in Ione’s belly as she moved nearer, wanting to feel him flesh to flesh, to feel his hands on her.
Gale broke away from her lips, only to nibble along her jawline, his hand stroking down to the flat planes of her belly. His breath was moist and warm as it puffed against her throat and Ione tilted her head back, granting him more room. Her fingers pressed against his back, her pulse quickening. It felt like forever since he had last touched her, though it was less than a week ago. The time in between, however, seemed to have dragged into eternity.
Abruptly, Gale rolled, pinning her beneath his warm weight, not that Ione minded one bit. One knee nudged between her thighs as his arms landed on either side of her, trapping Ione beneath him. She pushed her body toward him, encouraging more touches, as her hands slid up his bare back, nails gently dragging over his pale skin. He marked so easily, sometimes, it was like a game to Ione.
“This doesn’t seem like a nap to me,” Ione murmured as one of Gale’s hands wandered toward her breastcloth, a quick flick of his wrist undoing the twist of fabric and loosening it from her chest.
“Would you rather sleep?” Gale asked, kissing his way down her throat and across her collarbone, his path quite evident.
A palm cupped Ione’s breast, thumb rubbing over her tightened nipple and Ione gasped, arching into the touch. “Maybe later,” she said, and rubbed her inner thigh against his leg, encouraging him to nudge his knee a little further up, give her something to rock against. She took that opportunity to slide one hand around, cupping his groin and massaging the flesh hidden beneath his knickers.
His breath stuttered against her bare skin as his tongue lapped a path to her right breast. “I seem to remember owing you,” Gale murmured before his mouth landed at her nipple, flicking the tip of his tongue over the pebbled nub.
“A man after my own heart,” Ione said, and stroked the hardening flesh in her palm, feeling him lengthen at her touch.
Gale chuckled and his lips closed around her nibble, sucking lightly as his tongue continued to flick over the tip. Each caress was like a direct line to her groin and Ione squirmed, heat flushing through her body. Gale had learned so very well, as though taking mental notes and quickly learning how to apply them.
His tongue loved her nipple in hot and wet caresses before he released the pebbled flesh with a slight pop, drawing back and licking his lips. A hand reached for her panties, quickly dropping them down from her body with her help.
“I don’t think you need these,” he said, dropping them off the side.
Ione returned the gesture by tugging off his knickers, laughing lightly as he performed an odd, clumsy shuffle of his body to detangle the fabric from his ankles. It was only times like this that Gale was less than graceful, and Ione couldn’t help but find it adorable. Gale would never be the fierce, assertive, and composed lover that Malcolm had been, but Ione wasn’t disappointed. She rather liked Gale as he was.
Heat burning his cheeks, Gale settled back over her and between her thighs, elbows against the mattress to either side of her head. His hair hung around his head in a short and pale curtain, the dying sunlight peering through the shutters enough light for Ione to see his face.
Green eyes were bright with desire, heated with hunger, and Ione’s free hand slid fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his face. He was looking at her, and Ione wasn’t sure how to interpret the look.
“What?”
His eyes seemed to roam over her expression, as though memorizing each line and the shape of her face. “They almost killed you,” he said quietly.
Ione felt her breath catch in her throat, an unconscious need to squirm at the tone of his voice. “But they didn’t. I’m alive and well and right here.” She tried for a smile, but it fell flat in the face of the seriousness he presented.
“It wasn’t me they were after,” Gale continued, his brow furrowing as though trying to reason something out in his head. “It was you. They aimed for you. Why? Because it would hurt me? I don’t know.” He sighed, eyes closing briefly. “If not for Neorah, I would be like Sabriel. Lost and grieving.”
“But you’re not,” Ione said, the heaviness of the moment sitting on her chest like a physical presence. “Gale, we can’t focus on 'almosts' and 'ifs.' Otherwise, it’ll drive us crazy with 'could have beens.' I’m here now. Not dead and very much alive.”
Gale’s eyes slid open, bright and open completely honest. There were times, when he looked at her like that, it was hard for Ione to believe he was the same man who had once led the Arlen clan as its head. That he was the same man who could ruthlessly destroy his enemy, callously suggest torture and death for a captive. Give orders for assassination to his own cousin. Sometimes, there was such innocence in Gale’s eyes, that Ione couldn’t reconcile the two.
“I know that,” he said, and turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “But I realized something as well.”
“What?”
“This isn’t a game. Not for me. This is real.” His eyes returned to hers again, shining with so much emotion she was momentarily taken aback. “This is more real than I ever thought I would be lucky enough to experience.”
Ione’s eyes widened at the implications of his words. Even as naïve and dense as Ione could be, Gale had all but spelled it for her.
She sucked in a breath, heart suddenly pounding in her chest. “Gale. I…”
“It’s okay,” he reassured, and smiled at her, total gentleness, no sign of the politician or the assassin. Just Gale; her Gale. “I’m not asking to hear this in return. I’m telling you because I’ll regret it if I don’t, and because this belongs to you.”
Ione was at a loss for words. She truly hadn’t spent much time examining her feelings. And admittedly, wasn’t sure to how to treat a relationship compared to what her connections with men usually consisted of. Gale wasn’t just a one time fling or a roll in the hay. He wasn’t just a night of fun. He was more than that, but Ione wasn’t exactly sure how much more.
She licked her lips, unable to hide her confusion. “Kiss me,” Ione demanded. Because she couldn't say the real words. Not just yet.
Gale pressed his lips to her palm again, never taking his eyes from hers. It was strangely erotic, and Ione felt a thrill race down her spine.
He didn’t stop with just her palm however. His tongue lapped a wide, wet path up and across her fingers before drawing the tips of them into his mouth. Wet warmth closed about her fingers, oddly enticing, and Ione swallowed thickly. She wanted him; she always did. Even if her feelings weren’t settled, desire was easier to recognize, to accept.
Her moist fingers cupped his cheek, turning him to face her. Ione licked her lips in obvious invitation, and her heart thudded loudly in her chest at the smoldering desire in his eyes. He lowered his head and their mouths met, exchanging breath briefly before the kiss deepened, lips touching and then the tips of their tongues.
Gale always tasted strangely sweet, no matter what, as though spun from sugar and other untainted things. Even though Ione knew the truth to be much more bitter. Everything about him was so damn incongruent that it baffled her. Yet, she only seemed to want him more and more.
He kissed her deeply, one hand moving to cup her head to help him direct the kiss. His tongue slid skillfully along hers – a skill she had helped guide him into mastering. Gale’s knee moved between her legs, nudging at her damp center, making a thrill race down Ione’s spine. She wanted him inside her, moving slow and steady, pushing deeper and deeper so that she could feel every inch of him.
Gale’s other hand skirted down her side, long and slow strokes that made her skin tingle. She moaned, low in her throat, one leg curling around his hip to pull him closer, until she could feel his hard cock brushing against her wet folds. Teasing touches that only amped her arousal, made her arch her hips toward him in encouragement.
Ione slid an arm around Gale’s back, palm pressed against Gale’s bare skin, fingers splayed. She nipped at his lips, her calf pressing against Gale’s hips.
“Gale,” she breathed into the kiss. “Come on.”
A sound came from low in his throat, mixture of moan and whimper. “As you wish,” he said and his hand skirted down to her hip, gripping her tightly.
He lowered himself closer, the head of his arousal teasing at her damp folds before pressing into her, slow and gentle. So that she could feel every inch of him as he slid inside, her body welcoming him with no protest. A slow, sweet burn spread through Ione’s body as he entered her, and she all but purred, arching into the penetration. He was long, perfectly thick, and she loved the way he felt inside of her. Ione could feel him throbbing, a steady pace, certain to match the beat of his heart.
Ione draped her other leg around Gale’s waist, hooking her ankles together to anchor herself as Gale was fully seated inside of her. He didn’t move immediately, lingering as her inner walls pulsed and rippled around him. Ione clenched down, loving the small burn such an action provoked, and the small sound Gale made in his throat. He kissed her as though tasting her for the first time, tongue tracing her mouth, lips tracing the curve of her jaw and the small jut of her chin.
Her skin prickled with goosebumps, though Ione was far from cold. Not with the heat Gale practically radiated above her, his fingers rhythmically clenching on her hip. His other hand fell away from her head, moving to brace against the bed. His mouth was hot and warm on her throat and Ione soaked in the sensation, the ache between her thighs building into a steady fire, banked by every one of his skilled touches.
Just when she was at the point of asking him to move, Gale seemed to sense her desire. He started a careful pace, pulling out, only to thrust into her again. Slow at first, and then faster, rocking in and out of her in a motion that made her spine tingle. Ione moaned encouragement, her breath quickening.
Sweat dotted her skin, and every time Ione inhaled, she could smell Gale. The scents that were unique to him and those that weren’t. Rainstorms and fresh spring and the sharp bite of lightning always clung to his skin like a perfume. But it wasn’t a cologne. It was the scent of his magic, and it danced on her senses as much as the feel of his aether curling around her was a physical presence. She could feel it settling over them like a warm and heavy blanket, coiling with her own. She almost suspected to open her eyes and find magic rippling in the air, watch it twist and tangle together, like an elegant dance.
Ione didn’t know if her magic smelled like anything. If it did, Gale hadn’t mentioned it. She supposed Gale couldn’t help it. All that power packed into a tiny frame, it had to emerge somehow. And Ione was more than willing to reap the benefits.
She inhaled deeply, swallowing the scent of him, and shivered when it seemed to settle deep inside of her, joining the heat of her rising desire. The bed creaked, and the sound of their bodies sliding together filled the room. Her nipples brushed his smooth chest every time he pushed into her, sending little shocks of pleasure through her body. Gale’s heavy breathing was audible, tangible as it brushed over her bare skin, over her ear, the curve of her throat. He all but nuzzled against her, as though trying to show with his body the proof of his words.
Ione felt an ache inside of her, one that had nothing to do with the physical joining of their bodies. He had this much to offer and she had nothing to give in return. At least, not yet. It felt a little selfish, even if he had claimed it belonged to her.
She reached up, winding both arms around his neck and dragging his mouth back to hers, desperate to prove something. Ione might not be able to say the words, to claim that she loved him or anything just yet. But she did like him, she did want him, and she was glad to be at his side. It was all Ione could prove, with her body. Her lips and her tongue and the embrace of her aether as it eagerly twined with Gale’s own.
They kissed as the desire built and swelled between them, throbbing through Ione’s body like a tidal wave. She moaned into the kiss, nerve endings aflame with pleasure. She clenched own on him, hips rocking in tune with his thrusts, taking him deeper, feeling him swell inside of her. She was already so close, dancing on a precipice.
Ione arched her back, heels digging into him as she molded their bodies together, putting a delicious pressure on her sensitive flesh. It sent a shock of want through her and the kiss turned sloppy, more a scattered press of lips and teeth and tongue.
“So close, so close,” she whispered, one hand going to his head where she tangled her fingers in his blond hair, always so damn soft.
“Come for me,” Gale murmured in return, his hips slamming against hers a little harder than before, jarring but also damn arousing. His hand left her hip, skating up her side, taking a breast in hand, thumb and forefinger rubbing over her nipple.
Ione’s back arched, a cry escaping her lips as she writhed beneath his touch. The cry in her throat couldn’t have been sexy as she thrust her hips down against his, riding his body, riding the feel of him inside of her. She was so close, almost there, so close. A whine built up in her chest as Ione dug her nails into Gale’s back, a flash of fire starting in her groin and quickly branching outward.
She gasped, eyes clenching shut as pleasure raced through her, making her skin tingle, her muscles clench. Her aether flowed out from her body, tendrils like clinging vines as they wound about her and Gale.
Her climax echoing through her, Ione tugged on Gale’s lower lip with her teeth, deepening a kiss, determined to drag him into release after her. It wouldn’t be difficult, considering the state of affairs. His breathing was ragged, his skin coated with sweat.
Ione unwound her legs from his waist, bracing her feet against the bed as she met his thrusts, increased in their pace and intensity. He tore his mouth from hers, burying his face in her throat as his hands clenched on the mattress, desperately seeking that release. Ione, still feeling the last tremors of her own climax, moaned softly, encouragingly.
Words muffled in Ione’s throat as Gale reached his peak, slamming his hips against hers and spilling inside her body. He groaned, a throaty, sexy sound, rocking against her warmth. Ione felt a stab of desire mix with a dash of fatigue – Gale was so damn sexy when he came – and couldn’t decide which avenue she’d like to pursue more. Another taste of Gale or the wonderful world of sleep.
Gale’s lips dragged back to Ione’s in a slow but sloppy kiss, and she hummed against his mouth, enjoying the languid pace. She could feel his body thrumming, sense the energy in his aether. Warm feelings surrounded Ione; she could sense them in his aether. Feelings like acceptance and joy and even stronger emotions, ones Ione didn’t dare name.
Part of her felt like she should speak. Another part of her was too afraid of what might emerge. Ione opted for neither, stealing Gale’s lips again and demanding more with her body. Rolling them over until she straddled his hips and his lingering arousal, until she could look down at him with her hands planted on his chest.
Green eyes still glimmered with want and desire, open with so much feeling. And Ione had no words to offer in return. Only action.
She kissed him again, and let that speak for itself. That and the heat winding between their bodies, the curl of their aether, already so familiar. And the feel of his hands as they slid up and down her sides, perfectly willing to accept more
A/n: Very sorry for the long delay on this one folks. New job, new position, less time to work on writing like I want.
Comments are love, even just to tell me you're liking the fic.
