Something beckoned me, slowly coaxing me from the calm chasm of sleep into consciousness.
I’d gone to bed early, at least for me. I hadn’t cracked open the old book I’d picked up from the chamber Penellaphe took her lessons in. Pure curiosity had led me to grab the book, a much thinner version of Solis’s history than what she was forced to read, but no less insane. I hadn’t found myself staring at the thin cracks in the ceiling of my quarters that were even sparser than Penellaphe’s. Memories of the past weren’t dredged up in the long, dark hours of the night. Instead, I felt…I wasn’t sure. Lighter?
Unencumbered? Eased?
At peace?
Either way, the moment my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep and stayed
that way, and that hadn’t happened in decades. I had no idea why, but I knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
That thing came again. A soft touch on my hand, then my arm. A graze of fingers against my skin. Then the craziest thing happened. I thought of her. Penellaphe. The tentative way she had touched me at the Red Pearl.
The way her body had eagerly responded and the brief feel of her hand wrapped around mine. Half-asleep, my mind conjured images of her fingers curling around a far more interesting part of me. My dick reacted to the heated thoughts, hardening as pulses of lust throbbed through me. I groaned.
Gods, I wanted— “Hawke.”
The voice. That touch. It didn’t come from my dreams, and it wasn’t
hers.
Inhaling deeply, I caught the scent of tart lemon as I pried my eyes open.
Dust danced in the slice of sunlight cutting between the gap in the drapes
over the single window. The brightness told me it was well past the time I usually woke as I turned my head to the right.
Britta sat perched on the edge of my bed, her tight, blond curls bare. My gaze shifted to my arm, where her hand rested.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked, voice rough with sleep.
The centers of her cheeks pinkened. “I’m here to clean your chambers. Normally, you’re gone by now,” she explained. And I would be training at this hour most days.
“I knocked like I usually do, but…” She trailed off, her blue gaze leaving mine, lowering to my bare chest and past it where the sheet tangled at my waist, where I knew damn well my arousal was evident against the thin cover. “But there was no answer.”
Her voice had thickened, as did an earthy scent that beat back the lemony smell. “I tried waking you upon entering. I called your name several times. You sleep deeper than I imagined.”
I normally didn’t.
“But I suppose it’s my lucky day,” she added, her breath quickening as she continued staring at the thick ridge beneath the sheet. “You’re quite the fetching surprise to find in the morning.” Her fingertips trailed over my arm. “A very nice, unexpected one.”
I said nothing as I watched her draw her lip between her teeth. She leaned in, skating her hand off my arm to my stomach. The pads of her
fingers were a little rough from cleaning as they traced the dips and swells of my lower abdomen. She was saying something about my sleep or my body, but I wasn’t listening as I stared at her hand and racked my memories for any detail regarding my previous time spent with her. There had been a lot of whiskey. I had the distinct impression that the fucking had been fast and hard, something we’d both enjoyed. She’d come. Loudly. So had I. Quietly. That was about it.
“We won’t be interrupted,” she said as her fingers trailed over my navel. My body reacted, muscles tensing as I watched her hand through half-
open eyes. Based on how much sunlight was coming through the gap in the drapes, I knew I had time before I was due to guard Penellaphe. She was likely still engaged with her prayers and breakfast, though I wasn’t quite
sure that was what she did in the mornings. But that was neither here nor there because Britta was here, and I hadn’t found release outside my own hand in…shit, it had been a while.
My cock throbbed with need, something I was sure Britta was well
aware of, because she hadn’t taken her gaze off the outline of my dick since she first looked. The almost painful hardness had nothing to do with her presence, though. Most mornings, I woke up with a godsdamn hard-on, but this morning? Today, there had been a reason. I lifted my gaze to the blond curls. The cause of my current arousal had hair the color of rich red wine.
Fuck.
But that was no reason to stop this. Britta was fun. I remembered that.
And she liked to have fun with many. I knew that, too. There were no
attachments here. No complications. We could fuck, find pleasure, and be on our merry ways.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Britta’s hand slipped under the sheet, her fingers mere inches—if that— from my cock—
I reached down, grasping her slim wrist. Britta’s wide eyes flew to mine.
“Sorry,” I said, gently but firmly pulling her hand out from under the sheet.
“Oh,” she whispered, blinking. “I thought—”
“It’s okay. Just not the right time,” I cut her off as my dick demanded to know exactly when the right time would be. Fuck if I knew.
She dropped her hand to her lap, where her white cap lay as her gaze flicked down and then returned to mine. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.” Tossing the sheet aside, I swung my legs off the other side of the bed and rose. “I need to get ready for the day.”
Britta stood, her gaze tracking my steps as I crossed the chamber. “Would you like me to come back later?” A pause. “To clean your
chambers?”
As I opened the door to my bathing chamber, I had a feeling that cleaning my chambers was code for riding my dick. I stopped, looking over my shoulder at her. She wasn’t looking at my face. Her stare was glued to my cock. “That will not be necessary.”
Not waiting for a response, I closed the door and turned on the oil lamp. Clasping the edges of the vanity, I stared at my reflection in the oval mirror, somewhat shocked with myself—stunned that I had walked away from easy, uncomplicated pleasure.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
There was no answer as golden eyes stared back at me. I recognized my features, but I had no idea who I was…who I was becoming.
