Thirty-Four

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Kyron opens the door to his room, and I take a step back. It's small, no bigger than a broom closet. The white walls are bare and in the back is a silver box with a grated door. 

"What is this? Do you sleep in a cage?" The question is outrageous, but what am I to think? This is the door to his room.

His laughter is like rich honey as he slides the door up. He motions for me to enter and closes us inside. "It's called a lift, and it will take us to my room."

He pulls a lever, and the metal floor trembles beneath us. I gasp and cling to the front of his shirt. I can't see anything, but I can feel the cage lifting us into the air—away from the ground. 

Kyron kisses the top of my head, and his chest rumbles with a chuckle. "I should have thought of this sooner."

"Oh yeah, so you could get a good laugh at my utter terror."

"No, so I would I have a reason to keep you distracted."

He cups my cheek and tilts my head back. His mouth meets mine with a slow, soft kiss that has my toes curling in my slippers. Every tense muscle in my body relaxes at the stoke of his tongue. I pull him closer and rest my back against the lift's cold metal wall.

"This is a very good distraction," I say, my fingers easing under his tunic and sliding along the waist of his trousers.

"Is it now?" He grips the back of my thigh and hooks my leg over his hip. "I think I can do better."

His hand glides up to the juncture of my legs, and his thumb strokes over the center of my lace undergarments. I close my eyes as he dips his fingertips under the damp fabric and teases me. My hips roll to create more friction, but he continues to draw lazy circles, never quite touching me where I ache for him the most.

The ground shudders, and the cage stops moving.

"My mission here is done," Kyron says, placing my foot on the floor and kissing my forehead.

"Not even close," I reply while he slides the gate open.

His room—if it can even be called a room—is shaped in half of a circle. The one wall houses the door to the lift and two others, but the rest of the space is open to the elements. Smooth pillars hold up the roof and embedded in the floor are rocks. He doesn't have the energy powered lights like the rest of the palace, instead a large bowl sits in the middle with a crackling fire inside. The furniture is simple—a plain chest of drawers, a high-back chair, and a breakfast table with several sketch books scattered on top. I thumb through the pages and note how each implacable charcoal drawing is of a body part, but not a complete person. Lips, eyes, hands, legs, breasts—all are pieces of my body. I close the book and store my questions about the sketches in the back of my mind to ask when I'm not dumbstruck by his room.

Simple white linens cover the large bed, and a mountain of pillows is stacked to look out at the stunning view of Stigian and beyond. The floor extends further than the roof, creating an open walkway with no railing to keep someone from falling over the edge. It triggers my fear of heights, and I stop next to a pillar to safely take in the city below and the endless night sky.

"I never took you as the damsel in distress," I say, looking back at him.

Kyron removes the Posseda from his pocket and places it in a gilded box on his dresser. "What?"

"Isn't the damsel always made to sleep in the castle's tower in fairy tales?"

He moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I suppose that is true if I wasn't the one who locked myself up here. I wanted a place where I could feel close to you. So, I removed the walls, thinking I could share a small part of your days and nights. I know it sounds strange, but the sky brought my broken heart some relief. I'd remind myself that the sun warming my skin warmed yours too. The waxing and waning moon, the stars, they were all the same, and they shined for us." Heat spreads through my body as he presses his lips to the nape of my neck while making easy work of the delicate buttons along my spine. "I wasn't looking to be saved; you had already rescued me, Raelle."

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