Arc 9-16
I remember the first time I kissed Alana vividly: her wide-eyed shock, her empty offense, her faint trembles. She didn’t do much beyond pursuing her lips, so tense her hands were rigid as stone. With her eyes shut and her cheeks painted pink, she was the picture of a blushing maiden being dragged into a moment of passion by an unscrupulous rogue.
There is no trace of that endearing hesitation in her hungry lips as she walks us to the bedroom. Our progress is slow and unsteady, hampered by her unwillingness to break our kiss. It’s a good thing we haven’t taken the time to decorate or countless vases and canvases would be destroyed in our carelessness. The furniture takes a beating from us crashing to them, but nothing falls so I pay it little mind.
My nose tells me when we arrive, the mixed scents of the clan behind the closed door more home than any of the walls we’ve stayed in since coming to New Quest. I’m eager to get inside, but Alana’s even more so. My legs dangle by her legs as she refuses to let my feet touch the ground. The hand pushing into my pants makes me wonder if we’re going to cause a scene in the halls, but Kierra saves us from committing the scandalous act.
Alana squeaks as slim fingers tangle in hair and yank her head back, the cute sound shattering the dominant illusion. Kierra smiles as she uses the break in our passion to move us aside, stepping into the room with Talia on her heels.
“Pfft.”
Blue eyes rise to glare at me, but I can’t take it seriously with that sound in my head.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking you’re adorable, sweetie.”
Not the words she wants to hear. My lips tremble with the strain of holding in my laughter as a terrible attempt at a growl leaves her throat. Reading her intention in the way her hands grip my waist, I let myself go limp, letting her throw me onto the bed.
Somehow, bouncing on the plush mattress breaks my composure, the damnable giggles slipping past. The sound is quickly smothered by Alana’s lips as she crawls on top of me.
“Shoes, star.”
My voracious knight ignores the soft admonishment, too preoccupied pulling my shirt over my head. Her breath leaves a hot trail as we work together to get rid of the clothes keeping us from each other. As Alana tugs my pants past my ankles, my head turns, taking in the sight of my wife seated in a plush chair in front of the window with Talia sprawled across her lap, their naked bodies painted in moonlight. I briefly meet a gaze that is more green than gold in the gloom, registering the amusement there, before Alana consumes my sight and every other sense. Her hands are fast and clumsy, her tongue desperate. She’s pouring her whole heart into me and it’s not all passion.
My brows furrow, but I save my questions. They can wait. For now, I embrace her, taking everything she’s willing to give. She’s gotten stronger but not so much that I flinch as she attempts to replicate Kierra’s love bites, her teeth clamping down with enough force to kill a weaker woman. I moan encouragement as her fingers spear into me like she has murder on her mind, riding the aggressive pumps of her arm.
Her eyes bore into me, demanding a reaction. It doesn’t take long for me to give it to her. My old worries about her being too fragile for intimacy are a distant memory. There is nothing but power in the hand that forces my leg against my chest as her fingers curl, practically dragging the passionate music from me.
Then, she suddenly goes still. My tightly shut eyes flutter open, drifting from her bowed head to her heaving chest. “Alana?”
She doesn’t respond to her name, but she lets me pull her down. She hides behind her hair as I reverse our positions, her hand slipping from between my legs.
“You alright?” I ask as I straddle her waist, hands splaying across her stomach as I grapple with the wonderful struggle of where to start. If only every problem could be so delicious.
A sentiment I double down on as tears gently fall down Alana’s cheek. Things with too many teeth and legs hatch in my stomach as horror grips my heart. I nearly fling myself off her, only stopped by the desire to hold her close.
She makes the decision for me by pulling me down and squeezing me with every bit of strength she has, the gesture easing the worst of my fears. I shush her, ignoring that she doesn’t make a sound. Quiet tears are not a good thing; I know from experience that silence is either the prequel to something explosive or a sign that something so heavy it crushes a person’s voice.
“Talk to me sweetie,” I practically beg, the sight of her in distress making my heart howl with the desire to attack something.
“…am I a terrible person?”
What? Oh saints save me, this better not be the revival of her bad habits. “No, of course not.”
She sighs. “You would say that.”
If you know what I’m going to say, why answer? “This isn’t me being in love with you. You are the best person I know. Well, aside from Lancecain but he’s an abomination.”
That draws a short laugh out of her but the humor is quickly smothered by her heavy mood. “Earlier, when we were talking about Khan. I…I thought about killing him.”
Oh.
“He’s a good man. He’s never hurt anyone, never so much as glared at someone. He’s as harmless as people get and I was going to kill him because a bunch of dead men say he’s dangerous. Because my father would do it. Because that’s what it means to be a James.”
“You aren’t going to do it,” I remind her. “You made the choice to protect him. Considering every option is normal. And if you were tempted, so what? If people are condemned for bad thoughts, no one can call themselves a good person.”
“I didn’t do it,” she mutters. “Kii challenged me. If I were on my own…if my father was standing there instead of you two…” She lets me draw my own conclusion, though I bet she doesn’t know what conclusion I come to.
“Does it matter how you got there? There are people who had living saints to guide them and they still made bad choices. How do I know? They aren’t saints. You’ve got two degenerates whispering in your ear and still did the right thing. I don’t think it’s fair to denounce that because you didn’t immediately want to challenge Victory and all it stands for.”
“That’s always the excuse, isn’t it? The threat is too big. I told you before that I wanted to be a hero. One who does something, regardless of the threat.”
“Are you listening to yourself? Not the goal of a bad person.”
“It is when it’s for the wrong reason. I want to smack around the entitled not to make the world a better place, but to make me feel better. It’s all for me.”
“I see. You helped a crying child and two villages on the brink of war for yourself.”
She huffs. “So what? For Victory’s traditions, I’d strike down that same child. I’d put them all down. And the worst part? I’d feel bad, but I wouldn’t think I was wrong. I can’t. We leveled a city and I felt vindicated, Lou.”
“I did that.”
“We did. If not in deed, then in spirit. I supported peace but the moment it conflicted with the James’ philosophy, I didn’t care.”
Saints give me patience. “Alana. We destroyed the city because we had to. The hunters weren’t willing to negotiate and we were on a time crunch. If we didn’t collect on the March, the northern army would have marched on the city and the kingdom would be at war.” Sigh. Dig deep, Lou. “I…regret how I did it, that I let my anger get the best of me before, during, and after that shitstorm. But do I think it was wrong? No. If being good means saving idiots from themselves and letting them target my family, I’ll be a villain to the end of time.”
Her sigh says she isn’t comforted by my immorality.
“Where is this coming from?”
“I told you—”
“Khan has been with us for weeks.” I cup her cheek while my other hand moves her bangs out of her face. “You’ve always known this was a possibility. This isn’t about him.”
Her lips tremble, her head trying to move away but I force her to stay still. “…what if I don’t want to talk about it?”
Then this is going to haunt me until you do. “I’m not going to force you. As long as you don’t plan on hiding it forever? Keeping quiet won’t help.”
“Says you.”
I debate slapping the back of her head but refrain, cuddling up to her. “Sleep. It can wait.”
“What? No. I mean…” Her hand brushes my thigh. “We were in the middle of something.”
Hm. If I were in emotional distress, would I want my lover to carnally distract me? Hah! I’d love it. But Alana isn’t me and I’m not sure this will help. Yet, this is what she’s asking for. The only thing I can do for her.
Grappling with doubt, I cautiously raise my head and bring our lips together again.