The Ascended — Chapter no 48

Chapter 48

The Snap

XÜL’S STUDY LOOKED THE SAME AS IT ALWAYS HAD—THE MASSIVE DESK OF polished ebony, the shelves lined with weathered books, the fireplace casting a warm glow over everything. Xül stood with his back to the door, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses.

"I was wondering if you’d make an appearance," he observed without turning around. "Close the door."

I did as he asked, then stood awkwardly just inside the threshold, suddenly unsure of myself.

He turned, offering me one of the glasses. "You look like you need this."

I took it, careful not to let our fingers brush. "Is this your standard approach to trial preparation? Get your contestant drunk?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Only the difficult ones."

I sipped the liquor, welcoming the burn as it traveled down my throat.

"And am I difficult, Warden?"

"Beyond measure," he said, grinning. He settled into one of the high- backed chairs near the fire. "Do you remember the first time you entered this room?"

I took another sip before answering. "I remember."

"You were such a brat," he said, almost smiling. "So convinced of your own importance. Looking for special treatment."

"If you equate the bare minimum with special treatment, I suppose you're right," I countered.

The liquor began to work its magic, dulling the edges of my shame and loosening my tongue. Before I could think better of it, I blurted out the words that had been haunting me.

"I'm sorry for what happened in the trial," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

He set his glass down with deliberate care. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Don't lie to me," I said. "I saw your face afterward."

"That’s why you’re so angry with me? Physical desire is natural, Thais," he said after a long pause. "But it's harmless in the end. Nothing to worry over."

Harmless. The word nearly stabbed me in the heart.

"You wouldn't even look at me," I said, unable to keep the accusation

from my voice.

"That's not true."

I rose from my chair, propelled by a sudden surge of anger. I crossed to where he sat, standing over him in a rare reversal of our usual positions.

"Don't lie," I said, the words rushing out now, unstoppable. "You couldn't even acknowledge me."

Irritation gave way to a darker expression.

"I couldn't look at you," he admitted, his voice so low I had to strain to hear it.

"I know," I bit out. "You were embarrassed. Ashamed—"

"You have it all wrong."

"Then correct me."

He shook his head, looking away again in that dismissive gesture that made me want to scream.

"That's what I thought," I whispered, turning to go.

His hand shot out, catching my wrist. He rose to his feet in one fluid movement, suddenly looming over me, his eyes blazing.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said, each word precise, controlled. "I don't feel shame about anything. I was worried."

I stared at him, trying to read the truth in his eyes.

"Worried," I repeated, the word flat.

"I nearly watched you die because of something pretending to be me," he said, his grip on my wrist tightening. "Do you have any idea what that

was like? Watching you seconds away from death, believing it was me who put you there?"

I was stunned into silence, my mind struggling to process his words.

"But I didn't," I said finally. "You saved me."

"You didn’t give me much of a choice." His voice was clipped.

“Because I almost slept with an illusion of you?” I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Thais. I did this. I put you in danger.," he continued, his grip on my wrist tightening. "All of this is my fault. If I hadn't done all these things —flirted, kissed you—you wouldn't feel this desire for me."

“It is absolutely your fault—” I started to agree, but he cut me off.

"When I watched you, Thais, I so badly wished it was me." The words seemed torn from him, a confession that cost him dearly. "And then I hated that I wished it was me."

He stared down at me, conflict raging in his eyes.

“Why?”

His eyes darkened. "Why isn’t relevant."

"Of course," I snapped. "Everything about you is irrelevant, isn't it?

Your thoughts, your feelings—if you even have any."

"And what would you have me say?" he demanded, a sudden heat in his voice. "That I've noticed your body? That I'm not blind to the way you move, the way you look at me? What good would that do either of us?"

The admission, sparse as it was, sent a jolt through me. "At least it would be honest," I challenged.

"Honesty," he scoffed. "Would that make it easier for you, somehow?"

“I don’t know, but I still want it.”

He laughed, a harsh sound. "Fine. I kissed you on that beach because I wanted to. Is that what you want to hear?"

I wasn’t ready for how his words hit me—sharp, real, and warm all at once. "Yes," I whispered. "That's a start."

For a moment, we stood frozen, the confession hanging in the air between us. Then, driven by impulse and the reckless courage his words had sparked, I pressed my lips to his.

He went rigid beneath my touch, his breath catching. Then he tore himself away, putting distance between us with such speed it left me reeling.

"Damn it, Thais," he said, his voice hoarse as he turned. "This can't happen."

Xül stood with his back to me, hands braced against the window that overlooked the black sea. His shoulders were rigid beneath his shirt. I could see the tension radiating from every line of his body.

"You need to leave, Thais. Now." His voice was low.

"No."

Now he did turn, and the look on his face sent a thrill of danger through me. His eyes were wild, almost feral.

"You cannot do things like that," he nearly snarled.

"You started this." I reminded him. "Outside this very castle, where everyone could see."

"That was different." He glared at me. "What you just did… we both

know where that kiss was going."

"And where is that?"

"Somewhere it can't go," he said firmly. "You're still a contestant. I'm to

be married."

"I don't care about any of that."

"You should." His expression went deadly serious. "These are not trivial matters, Thais."

"What, are you going to turn me in to the Twelve?" I countered.

"Don’t be ridiculous." He stared down at me for a long moment.

“I’m trying to figure you out. You said you wanted to kiss me, yet you’re acting like this.”

"Because I can't have you," he said through gritted teeth. "Because every time I look at you, I want to—" He stopped mid-sentence, dragging his hand down his face. "You have no idea what you're playing with," he

finally said.

"Enlighten me."

And then he was moving towards me. "You threw yourself at me like some desperate thing, and I had the sense to walk away, yet you continue to test me."

Heat flashed through me—part embarrassment, part fury at his dismissive tone. "I think you're angry because for once, you actually want something more than your precious political games."

He snapped. Before I could react, he had me backed against his desk, hands braced on either side of me, caging me in. His fingers slid across my jaw, tilting my face up to his.

"You want to know what I am?" His voice dropped to a whisper that caressed my every nerve ending. "I'm a man who's been hard for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm a man who's spent every night since then stroking myself to thoughts of you."

A tremor stole my breath as fire curled low and deep.

"I'm a man who dreams about having you spread out beneath me, begging me to fill you, to claim you, to make you mine in every filthy way I can imagine." His eyes burned into mine. "So tell me—do you still think I'm hiding from what I want?"

"Then take it," I whispered, my voice barely steady. "Take what you want."

"Stop talking." But his grip tightened, and I could see the war raging

behind his eyes.

"Make me," I challenged.

His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back as he leaned down until his mouth was a breath away from mine.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he commanded.

"Fuck me," I whispered, the admission sending a thrill through me.

"Right here."

He grabbed my thighs and yanked me up, slamming me down onto the desk as he forced his way between my legs. My hands moved without conscious thought, fingers finding the fastenings of his pants and working them open with fumbling urgency. I needed to touch him, needed to feel him, needed to drive him as mad with want as he was driving me.

The moment my fingers brushed against him, he went completely still.

His hand shot down to catch my wrist, stopping me mid-motion. "No."

"Why not?" I challenged.

"I will not touch you, and you will not touch me," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous silk that made my skin prickle. Before I could react, he guided my hand to my thigh, sliding it upward.

"But I will watch you touch yourself," he whispered, his lips a breath away from my ear.

He stepped back just enough to give me space, his eyes never leaving mine. "Right here, on my desk."

My heart hammered in my chest. This was madness—pure, delicious madness. But the hunger in his eyes, the way he looked at me made me want to be reckless.

I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me at the thought of him watching me, of riling him. And maybe there was power in it too—in making the Warden lose that insufferable composure without even touching him.

Fuck it. If this was what we could have—these stolen moments, these fragments of what could be—I'd take it. And I'd make him remember it.

"Tell me what to do," I whispered.

“Under one condition.”

“And what is that?” I asked.

“This will only happen once. And we will never speak of it again.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. “Fine.”

His eyes darkened further. "Unlace your bodice," he commanded softly as he moved back to his chair and sat, facing me. "Slowly."

My fingers trembled as I began working at the laces, my eyes never leaving his. The air between us hummed as each movement revealed more of my skin to his gaze.

"Tell me something," he said, his voice dropping even lower as he watched me. "How often do you think of me when you're alone?"

Heat rushed to my face at the intimate question, but his gaze made me

want to answer honestly.

"Too often," I admitted.

A flash of satisfaction crossed his features. "And what do you imagine me doing to you in these fantasies?"

I hesitated, my fingers stilling on the laces.

"Don't stop," he commanded. "And don't lie. I want to hear every filthy thought you've had about me."

"I imagine your hands on me," I confessed, resuming my task with the laces. "Your mouth…"

"Where?" he pressed, his voice a caress. "Show me."

I tugged on the final knot, my bodice opening and the cold air rushing onto my exposed skin making my nipples harden into peaks.

I brought my fingers up to the swells and let my thumbs slide down the pebbled skin, causing a sharp jolt to ring through my body. His darkening eyes only made my chest feel heavier and I pinched the flesh, my lips parting as the feeling sent a throbbing heat between my thighs.

"Good," he murmured. "Go on."

I swallowed hard, head dizzy as my fingers traced lower until they reached my skirt. I bunched the ruffles over my thighs, parting my legs for him. The thin material of my undergarments were the only barrier now. My fingers brushed over the dampened fabric, a small whimper escaping my

lips.

It wasn't enough.

I tugged the lace down my hips in one quick motion, meaning to toss them to the side but Xül's outstretched hand halted me.

Through my haze I dropped them into his waiting palm, tracking his movement as he tucked them into his front pocket. My eyes snagged on the bulge straining against his pants.

He adjusted himself, fisting that mouth watering length. My legs parted again without much coherent thought, fingers quickly finding the throbbing bundle of nerves that so desperately needed attention.

The intensity of his gaze was like a physical touch, making every sensation more acute. He remained perfectly still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his control evident in the white-knuckled grip.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I whispered, emboldened by the raw desire I saw in his eyes.

"I'm thinking," he said, his voice strained, "that I'll never be able to concentrate at my desk ever again."

I couldn't fight back the smile that curved my lips. "Is that all?"

"So eager," he purred. "But since you asked so nicely, I'm also thinking about my mouth on every inch of your skin, tasting you until you're sobbing with need," he continued, his voice dropping low. "About watching you fall apart on my tongue, my fingers, my cock, until you're nothing but a trembling mess begging for more."

I circled my clit slowly, my eyelids getting heavier with every dirty whisper.

"I'm imagining how you'd feel wrapped around me," he said, each word deliberate. "How tight you'd be, how wet, how perfect."

I moaned, my movements growing more urgent.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Show me how you'd move if I were inside you."

My hand moved down, fingers curving, hitting the spot that made me see stars. I panted, back arching until my shoulders hit the wood of his desk.

I was laid out for him, my hips rocking forward, grinding onto my palm.

My eyes were fluttering closed in ecstasy when a shadow appeared behind my eyelids.

"Look at me," he commanded. His voice was right above me.

I did as he asked, locking my gaze with his as waves of pleasure began

to build within me.

His arms framed my body.

My heartbeat felt like it would choke me. I arched up towards him, desperate for contact, but he was positioned just far enough. I wanted his elongated fingers to replace my own, reaching places I couldn't. I wanted his searing mouth to steal away my last vestiges of control. For my moans, which had turned all but pleading, to break his control.

"Is this what you want to see, Warden?" I asked, my voice low and challenging. "Me desperate for you while you just stand there? Or would you rather feel how wet I am thinking about you?"

His eyes darkened dangerously.

"You're torturing yourself as much as me," I continued, emboldened by the hunger in his gaze. "We both know you want to be the one making me scream."

"And deprive myself of this view?" he murmured. "No, I intend to

watch you lose yourself."

I bit back a snarl at his refusal— "Say my name," he ordered. "I want to hear my name on your lips when you come."

My fingers had found an intoxicating rhythm, the sounds of my need filling the room. My breathing caught in my throat, every muscle vibrating, aching as I climbed higher and higher.

My eyes rolled back, and I felt his presence shift from above, lowering as his breath ghosted against my inner thigh. His position had my hips lifting desperately before he exhaled sharply against my core, that feeling alone becoming my undoing as I spiraled into a world-shattering orgasm.

One that took away every coherent thought.

"Xül," I gasped, the single syllable a prayer and a curse combined.

My back flattened across the desk as the waves receded. Xül looked utterly wrecked. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and though he hadn't moved from his position, hadn't touched me once, naked desire flared behind his eyes.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke, the only sound in the room our

ragged breathing gradually slowing.

Finally, Xül reached for my hand.

Slowly, he lifted my fingers to his mouth. His eyes never left mine as his lips parted. I gasped as I felt his tongue swirl around them, tasting what remained of my pleasure, his eyes closing briefly.

He pressed the gentlest of kisses to my fingertip before releasing my hand.

"Sweet dreams, starling," he murmured. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving me breathless and trembling on his desk.