Fatal Alignment Ch. 04

"I will make you tired," he said darkly, with just a hint of danger in his voice. His hand shifted, finding the hem of her shirt before slipping his calloused palm against her bare skin. Before she could think to stop him, he was kneading her breast, his thumb dragging back and forth against her nipple until the sensitive peak hardened and she was biting back a moan. She grabbed the wrist of his other hand as it worked the closure of her worn leather pants, but didn't make a move to stop him as his fingers slipped lower and lower still until...

"You're always soaked for me, keoni vey," Venlen murmured, growling his approval as he slid a finger up and down her slick folds and circled her clit. Her hips moved of their own accord, entirely removed from her conscious will, seeking out more contact, more pressure, just more. She had accepted her body's reaction to him long ago, had come to terms with the pleasure he gave her and the way she craved his touch.

It wasn't always this way. In the beginning, she had dreaded his visits, had fought him and herself until they were both exhausted and halfway to hating each other. At his core, Ven was a villain with a dark and storied past, and her first experiences with him had been forced, violent, and terrifying. Forgiveness had come slowly and with many stipulations, and there were still times he scared the living shit out of her. Venlen was many things. He was a force of nature, irresistible and irrefutable. In the end, he had won.

His weight came down on her shoulders, pressing her forearms harder into the rail as he kicked her legs apart and slid two fingers deep. She gasped, the sudden movements taking her by surprise. This was how it had always been between them, how it would always be. He jostled her until she was in the exact position he wanted, and then he took, even as he gave. His fingers pumped in and out of her as his thumb continued to circle her clit, the other hand on her breast tweaking her nipples until a bite of pain mixed with the potent pleasure, and she felt herself move closer and closer to the edge.

The hand on her breast was suddenly gone, and a calloused finger tapped her lips. "Open," he growled, and she did, accepting the two fingers that were suddenly thrust into her mouth, mimicking the movement taking place at her core. "Suck." The word sent a lightning bolt of apprehension and excitement through her, and she swirled her tongue around his fingers, sucking them down until they hit the back of her throat. Venlen groaned, the circles against her clit growing faster and harder as he ground his erection into her lower back lewdly. The fact that they were out in the open, making such wanton sounds and such obvious motions that anyone even remotely close to them would know immediately what they were up to, had not escaped her notice. But there was no stopping him, no stopping the pleasure he was intent on giving her, and so she relaxed into him, taking what he had to give.

"Yes, keoni vey, my good girl. Just like that." He pumped his fingers into her, hard and fast, pushing her further and further toward the edge. "Come for me now, keoni vey. Come now."

A deep moan she tried to suppress escaped her as she fell over the edge, the feeling like being tossed over the side of the ship and sinking into deep, dark waters. She relaxed into him as her breathing evened out slowly, and he carefully fixed her shirt and re-tied her trousers.

"What about you?" she asked tentatively, turning toward him. His smile was dark and vaguely threatening. "The night is young," he proclaimed, calmly turning away from her and leaving her, far more relaxed, to continue observing the dark, churning sea below.

After a while, she felt a presence approach from behind her, and knew instantly who it was. There was only one person she had ever met with the aura Braelen projected.

"She's okay, you know," a lovely, soft voice said from behind her. "She remains unharmed. He... he protects her."

Laiyla found herself baring her teeth as if in challenge to the churning depths in front of her. It was a relief to have an assurance from Braelen, but the prince, regardless of how he was treating her while he dragged her to the underworld, would still die.

She turned, taking in her adoptive parent's daughter. Braelen was tall and graceful, with hair like flames and intelligent eyes the color of fire. She was painfully beautiful, that much was clear, but the thing that made Braelen truly remarkable was her ability to see.

Dreamwalker. Pathfinder. Seer. There were many titles that Fae like Braelen had been called, and all of them focused on what Braelen could do, not what she was. Very few people remembered the true name for the Fae with fire behind their eyes.

Braelen was a yimotcha. A Phoenix.

"Come here, little stowaway," Laiyla said, holding her hand out in invitation to the Fae that bested her unimpressive height by a great deal. Of course, Venlen had been absolutely furious when he found the mischievous little devil tucked securely into the forecastle, surrounded by lengths of rope and heavy chains. His thunderous roar of outrage hadn't so much as made her flinch. Braelen had never been intimidated by Venlen, and with good cause. He was nearly as protective of her as he was of Laiyla and Adrika. He would do everything in his power to ensure no harm came to the girl, and would certainly never consider harming even a hair on her head by his own hand.

And so, faced with an enraged ruler of Prevaria, the most powerful man in the entire kingdom, Braelen had simply smiled and said, "Hey, uncle Ven! Crazy swells today, right?"

Laiyla had snorted, then tried to hide her amusement with a bout of fake coughs.

Braelen grasped the proffered hand and stepped up to the taffrail, staring with those strange, knowing eyes. Flames flickered behind her irises as she gazed out at the great expanse of seemingly endless ocean.

"You know what the funny thing about prophecy is?" Braelen asked, the wind fighting to steal her words away.

Laiyla looked sideways at the girl and tilted her head.

"If you try hard enough, you can twist and turn the words until they fit any given situation." She tugged on the back of Laiyla's tunic as her lips tipped up in a small, secretive smile. "But when the prophecy is true, the words twist and turn themselves. You should ask uncle Ven if he's read any good books lately."

With that, Braelen turned and walked across the deck, her natural grace lending itself to her artful trek across the rocking planks below her feet. Laiyla watched her leave, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of fire and water, prophecy and dreams. And a dark, dark place below the waves, where brilliant bursts of light guided the way to the underworld.