Page 67 of Crown of Iron
He leaves a wet trail of kisses over my chest before sucking the satin and the hardened peak of my breast under it into his mouth. My jaw goes slack, and I press his fingers harder between my legs, showing him exactly how I need him to touch me. But the general doesn't need my guidance.
He pushes his thumb to my clit in a way that sends the rest of my body humming, drawing slow circles, and coaxing a burning, liquid desire from me. The moment I need more from him, his fingers sink into me, curling and pressing deep. I lean back and watch him make my body to feel the highest level of pleasure. His thumb presses tight circles at my center as he slowly strokes two fingers in and out of me. All the while, he continues to nip and suck my nipples. Fuck. The attention he’s giving me has to be the epitome of being worshiped.
Through ragged breaths, I say, “Kyron, I'm going to…”
“I know,” he groans. “I can feel you tightening around my fingers. Let me feel you fall apart for me, princess.”
His lips find mine, swallowing the sounds of my pleasure. My entire body pulsates, and my knees go weak. If it weren’t for the desk and his hold, I would sink to the floor as I come undone around his fingers.
For several heartbeats, Kyron holds me against his chest, letting me catch my breath. I lower my leg to the floor, and he brings his slick fingers to his mouth. One by one, he cleans each digit with his eyes closed, savoring the taste of my desire.
“Next time, it won't be my fingers between your legs,” he vows with dark eyes and a lopsided grin.
My jaw drops and a new rush of heat washes over me. I plan to hold him to that promise. And I will make him promises too. Ones that involve me placing my mouth on him.
He sweetly kisses me and says, “The need to touch you is sedated for now.”
I release a puff of air and tie my robe closed. “I'm glad I could help.”
“As am I.” He gives me a satisfied grin and turns his attention to the journals on the desk. “How can I help?”
I grab a book and press it to his chest. “Start reading. And keep your hands to yourself.”
He smiles at that as he sinks to Micah’s chair. “I’ll try my best, but I make no promises.”
Twenty-Four
We’re looking for anything about the kingdom's separation,” I say, turning back to the journal I was reading before Kyron made his presence known.
He leans back in Micah's desk chair and his hands grip my hips, pulling me down to his lap.
“You're already getting distracted,” I say over my shoulder.
“Just making sure we’re both comfortable for the long night ahead.”
“Sure you are. Just stay focused.”
He chuckles and sets to work reading his assigned journal.
I recline against his chest while he mindlessly runs his fingers over the side of my thigh as he reads. It takes me a few moments to become accustomed to his leisurely touch. I shift to my side, tuck my head under his chin, and delve into the journal.
It's unnerving to read all Micah's private thoughts—his feelings for Borin, his hopes for Lucent, his hatred for his sister, and his self-deprecation for not being strong enough to hold the kingdom together. But it's a necessary evil.
The pages also hold much of the history leading up to the siblings dividing Pliris. Micah writes about how his and his sister's views of Khiros and Cyffreds differed. Esmeray's steadfastness in her belief that the Stateramakes one people superior over another, blessing them with gifts. In her opinion, those whose gifts lie dormant should exalt and serve the Khiros. Micah believes the choice is beyond our control, and we must treat all equally. As tensions flared between the two rulers, so did that of their people.
Pliris was on the verge of a civil war that weighed heavily in favor of Esmeray and her Khiros supporters. Micah made the hard decision to separate from his sister, secretly building a small colony and smuggling the Cyffreds out of Stigian, Pliris' capital at the time. It didn't take long for Esmeray to realize what was happening. She called for a forty-day summit, where the two divided their assets and devised a set of rules which benefited both of their kingdoms. And so, Lucent and Stigian were born.
The history of Pliris is nothing new to me. Most of Borin's lessons revolved around how the two kingdoms came to exist. It’s Micah's commentary on the events that is so impactful. His grief for failing his people, and his elation for protecting those who could not stand against a Khiros army. Thirty years later, he’s still the same, and the war rages on.
Kyron shifts, and a low grunt vibrates his chest.
I glance up at him and find the chiseled edge of his jaw just above my lips. I kiss it and ask, “Have you found anything interesting?”
He hums and pulls his attention from the journal. “It's all interesting. Abrum taught me most of this, but it's different reading it in Micah's words. He has a deeper perspective of things.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I say, flipping to the next page. My forehead crinkles as I take in the images before me. I lean forward, placing the book on the desk. Kyron looks over my shoulder at the two detailed drawings surrounded by explanations.
Along the top is the heading,The Sacred Gifts of the Statera.The sheet on the left is labeledPossedawith a sketch of a tear-shaped stone, shaded in orange and red. The description below it reads:
