Page 31 of Chasing the Night

I turned to find Chalice leaning against the frame of my door. Instinct and decency demanded my hand fly to my waist and assure the linen was still wrapped securely around me.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. She jolted but seemed unable to command her own feet.

My amusement flew past its usual checkpoint, and I openly chuckled at her. “Making sure you don’t run off and do something foolish and youthful.”

Her jaw dropped, and she stared across the room at me, momentarily distracted from her retreat.

“I am a woman now, in case your memory fails you.” Her chin tipped in a way that screamed of false confidence. Before I could call her on it, Blazian padded in from the side room without a stitch on her.

Chalice blinked manically, unable to return the greeting Blazian politely offered. I could tell from her tone that she and Chalice were fond of each other.

When Chalice whirled around and hurriedly left the room, all I could do was rub the back of my neck and suffer the feeling that somehow, I had hurt her.

Chalice

I’d never seen so much of a man before. His sheet was fashioned around his waist and folded in the center. The weight of the knot bore down against the fold, so that it dipped low enough to reveal a trail of tight curls. My mind immediately wondered what the rest of him looked like.

Why hadn’t I just walked past his room? Why wouldn’t my legs work like I desperately wished they would? Heat flooded my face until I was certain he knew what I had been thinking.

The sight of Blazian prowling nude in his presence was all the kick start I needed. I flew down the hall feeling stupid and just as youthful as he had charged me to be. I hated myself for the contempt I suddenly found toward Blazian. Fuck, with Reverie gone, she was likely the only semi-friend I had. Besides, I had no claim to him. He was family, part of this… cesspool. And now he was, what...my captor?

I ran my hands over my face and curled my fingers into my hair. The tension soothed me in an odd way, but it still didn’t clear my head.

One hall led to the next, until I found myself in front of a long staircase.

A tower!

I raced up the stairs and threw the door open. The only princess inside was Ender. He sat a few feet within, grinding a bit of Nirvana Root between his thumb and fingers. He nearly leapt off the sofa when I fell inside.

“Chalice! Wha- are things well?” He rolled his finger and thumb, ridding them of any sticky particles and reached toward the wall for his sword.

“No!” I waved the sword off, with a panic I couldn’t place. “I just… I didn’t know this was your...I’m sorry.”

I weaved without balance for a moment atop the stair, and images of my life flashed before my eyes. His strong arm curled around me and he crushed me to him.

“It’s a bit of an odd layout,” he mumbled, his head down. Shutting the door behind us, he bid me to the sofa and sat back down on the opposite end. Once settled, he began pinching the little mount of green sand and transferring it into a long wooden pipe. A piece of wick lay in wait on a little tray with assorted sticks and pipes. He held it to the fire until it turned red, then placed it against the root he had packed into his pipe.

A few puffs later, it was smoldering, and he was exhaling large billowing clouds of pungent smoke. He coughed into the crook of his arm and nudged me a few times without bothering to look my way. He seemed desperate to be rid of it, so I took it and placed a hand on his back when he doubled over.

Finally, he sat up, red faced and smiling from ear to ear.

“What the fuck… don’t just sit there, puff,” he insisted before encouraging me to bring my hand to my mouth. I did as he instructed and sucked in deep as I had seen him do. My lungs spasmed and my throat burned as I choked on the mess of it. Tears watered my eyes, and I flailed the pipe about, certain I’d never draw another breath.

“Hey… oh fuck,” he slowly managed, “you’ve never smoked root before?” His hand slid about my shoulder as I tried to nod. In the span of a breath, I became aware of the subtlest things my body did. The rise and fall of my chest. The way my corset caught my flesh with each swell of my lungs. The rustle of the hem against my ankle, and the way the upholstery teased against my neck.

He tried to help me into a reclined position, but rather than his hand, I felt ten. Caressing and roaming over my body. He used his hip to shift me and I ended up feeling like I was sailing. Weightless and without a worry or a cause. The pillow fluffed under me and I gave in to the sudden compulsion to reach up and lock an arm around his neck. My fingers slid through his short dark hair, and we fell together until the darkness caught me.

***

Someone thundered on the door so loudly I thought we were under attack. My eyes shot open and I shoved the body next to me. Ender landed on the floor. Having awoke mid fall, he was cursing long before he landed.

We stared at each other in confusion until the door was knocked on again.

“Get your ass up boy and get to my office. Fetch everyone. Now.” Atticus barked on the other side of it. Moments later he loudly descended the steps.

I looked toward Ender and then down at my rumpled gown. All I could do was sit there, slack jawed and thanking everything that was that Atticus hadn’t managed to get in.

A flung shirt caught purchase of something on the table, sending root, scale and all scattering across the floor. I looked up and immediately lost the ability to form protest. He wore only the thin long underwear of the mountain. I wasn’t sure the purpose of men’s underwear. All it did was cast a shadow over their unmentionables. The things couldn’t possibly afford any means of concealment or comfort.

Finding bravery in the fact that his back was to me, I let myself take a closer look. He was tall, not skinny, but nowhere the muscular detail that Messiah had possessed. It didn’t matter, I still wanted to climb him. Which is just what my gaze did. It crawled over his shapely calves, then to his back. He had been carved and stained like the pirates of the Kingdom Isles. Not the petty little anchor or crossed swords like the common dock bandits. No, Ender had the Winged Inferno, the freedom bird of the slave people. Always in red and black, it was the pride of all revolters. And to those brave enough to sport such, a walking death sentence, depending on which soil they stood upon.

A magnificent creature. Its marvelous wings spanned alongside his spine, the other wrapped up his ribs and curled about the right side of his chest. His nipple was the centerpiece of a blazing feather. My breath caught as I realized I was seeing his front side and my eyes scrambled up to his amused emerald pools.

“I have to… he said everyone,” I rambled, letting myself out.