insubordinate (gwynriel)

2

A week later, Gwyn had her head buried in a book. It was one Nesta had given her to read, which meant the contents had Gwyn sweating and squirming in her seat. She didn't have work to do this early in the morning, so she always used it as a quiet reading time.

A particularly spicy scene had Gwyn's lips parting as she read, her cheeks heating up as she devoured the words on the page in front of her. In her story, the man took charge of her, punishing her for talking back to him by having his way with her. Gwyn hated that she liked it. She hadn't expected to when Nesta had given her the book. She was typically the sweet romance type, but the love in this book wouldn't be described as sweet. Passionate, sure. Lustful and consuming, definitely. But not sweet.

Gwyn pictured the characters in her mind, a mess of tangled limbs and passionate kisses. When the man began to taste the woman, groaning about how good she felt against his tongue, Gwyn thought she might lose her mind.

Gwyn was still a virgin, which had made Nesta gasp. She'd quickly handed a stack of books to Gwyn to teach her about what she was missing out on. She was beginning to catch on quickly. She imagined the way it would feel, to have a man knelt before her, spreading her and worshipping her with his tongue. She pictured the dark hair hanging in his eyes, the tan of his skin, and the flushed pink of his lips. Her eyes almost rolled back into her head at the idea of watching him as he consumed her, hazel eyes flicking up to meet hers.

She felt eyes on her and immediately stiffened. Lifting her head to scan the room, her eyes almost bugged out of her head as she noticed the man from yesterday sitting directly across from her, legs spread wide as he smirked at her. Gwyn ignored the built wetness between her legs, begging to have her memory wiped to forget that the man before her was the one she'd just been imagining on his knees for her.

Holy hells, had she been that lost in the scene? How long had he been there? How had he been so quiet? She snapped her book shut quickly, straightening her shirt and sitting up straighter. She tried not to think about the fact that he could probably smell her, which made her want to peel her own skin off in embarrassment.

"Whatcha reading there, little Priestess?" He grinned, brushing a finger across his bottom lip in a weak attempt to hide his amusement. She wanted to melt into the chair and disappear beneath the cushions.

"Why do you care?" She hissed. He chuckled.

"Let's call it morbid curiosity," he shrugged. "I'm curious what's got you all hot and bothered." Her mouth dropped open in shock and she scoffed in disbelief. He was insane. Who was he to show up here and watch her like some kind of creep?

"I am not hot and bothered," she growled, face fixing into a scowl.

"Is that so?" He mused. "You just seemed a little tense. My mistake."

"Maybe I just don't want you here," she said angrily.

His eyes were alight with mischief and something much, much darker. They flicked down to where she was tightly clenching her thighs together, and then back up to her eyes. He raised a brow at her.

"I didn't think Priestesses were supposed to lie," he teased.

"I'm not lying," she griped. She needed to find an exit strategy quickly. Being near him was like sitting next to a burning fuse. She felt like one wrong move could ruin her. "Are you stalking me?"

"What would you do if I was?" He taunted, grinning. He knew when it truly came down to it, he could do whatever he wanted. She was determined to not let that happen. A man like this had never been put in his place. Gwyn took that as a challenge.

"I'd tell the High Lord," she said plainly, moving to stand and walk away from him.

"Good luck convincing him that his spymaster needs to stop stalking people," he laughed. Her eyes widened. Azriel. This was Azriel. Oh shit. Oh no.

"You're..." she trailed off, anxiety rushing through her chest. Azriel was in the High Lord's inner circle, and she'd been disrespecting him from the moment she first laid eyes on him.

"A shadowsinger? Yes," he clarified, and she noticed the shadows looming at his feet as if they poured and seeped from his skin. When he caught her watching them, they began to grow, spreading and weaving around him like black vapor.

She chewed the insides of her cheeks, afraid to speak.

"Does that scare you?" he asked her.

"No," she said quickly. "Why would I be afraid of you?" She looked at him like he was ridiculous because, honestly, he was. What, he thought he'd just come down here and intimidate her for fun? Mocking her with how powerful he was and how he could do as he pleased?

"That's what I'm learning I'm going to have to teach you," he purred. Heat swirled in her stomach at his tone, that deep voice of his like dark silk.

"Teach me?" She squeaked.

He smiled.

"See you around, little Priestess," he said as he rose from his chair and walked to the exit that lead into the House, leaving Gwyn flustered and alone. She growled, roughly tossing her book onto the couch and storming away to her bedroom.