Page 39 of City of Secrets and Shadows
I tightened my grip on the fabric and yanked. The sound of tearing cloth was loud in the quiet room, followed by Livia’s sharp intake of breath. The blue-and-silver uniform split down the middle, revealing a strip of golden skin and the simple binding cloth beneath.
“That was academy property,” she said, but there was no anger in her voice — only a breathless quality that made my blood run hotter.
“Send them the bill,” I growled, tearing the fabric further until it fell away from her shoulders. The binding cloth wrapped around her breasts was utilitarian, meant for combat rather than seduction, but the thin fabric did little to conceal the curves beneath — the swell of her breasts, the hardened peaks of her nipples. Years of training had sculpted her body into a weapon, all lean muscle and coiled strength, but there was softness too, femininity that no amount of combat could erase.
“Your turn,” she said, reaching for my tunic.
I caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. “You don’t give the orders here.”
“Neither do you,” she countered, but didn’t struggle against my grip.
“No?” I traced a finger along the edge of her binding cloth, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. “Your body seems to disagree.”
“My body responds to stimulation. That’s biology, not submission.”
I laughed, the sound low and dark. “Still fighting, Livia. Always fighting.”
“Always,” she whispered, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her.
I lowered my head, brushing my lips against the edge of her binding cloth. “What would happen if you stopped fighting, just for a moment? If you surrendered to this?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I’ve never surrendered to anything in my life.”
“Then perhaps it’s time you learned.” I released her wrists, sliding my hand down to the binding cloth. With practiced fingers, I found the end of the fabric and began to unwrap it, each rotation revealing more of her golden skin. “Sometimes surrender is its own victory.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as the last of the binding fell away. I sat back on my heels, drinking in the sight of her warm brown skin. Battle scars marked her ribs, her shoulders — badges of honour in our world. Her breasts were smaller than those of court ladies who’d never lifted anything heavier than a wine cup, but perfect—high and firm, tipped with dusky nipples that hardened further under my gaze.
“You’re staring,” she said, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.
“I’ve earned the right.” I traced the line of a scar that curved beneath her left breast. “How many years have I watched you, trained with you, imagined this moment?”
“You never showed it.” Her voice was accusatory. “Not once.”
“Because I knew where it would lead.” I lowered my head to follow the path my finger had traced, my tongue replacing the touch with wet heat. Her back arched slightly, involuntarily. “Here. To this moment. Where I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
She gasped as my mouth found her nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before my tongue soothed the sting. Her hands, now free, tangled in my hair — not pushing me away but holding me there, her body contradicting whatever protests might still form on her lips.
“Septimus,” she breathed, my name half curse, half plea.
I moved to her other breast, lavishing the same attention, feeling her writhe beneath me. My hand slid down her stomach to the waistband of her subligaculum, fingers dipping just beneath the fabric.
“Tell me you want this,” I demanded against her skin. “I need to hear you say it.”
She tensed, that stubborn pride warring with desire. “Why? Your ego needs stroking along with everything else?”
I bit down on her nipple, hard enough to make her cry out. “Not my ego.” My hand stopped its downward path. !Your choice. Say it, or this ends now.”
Her eyes flashed, defiance warring with desire. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m waiting,” I murmured against her skin, my breath hot against her dampened nipple. I stayed perfectly still, though every muscle in my body strained for movement.
Livia’s chest heaved beneath me. “Fine,” she hissed. “I want this. I want you. Is that what you needed to hear?”
I smiled against her skin. “Want what, exactly?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “You really are a bastard.”
“Tell me what you want, Livia.” I trailed my fingers along the edge of her subligaculum, close enough to torment but not enough to satisfy. “Be specific.”
