The furs were coarse against my skin, a sharp contrast to Malai's softness. I didn't waste time with words. Words are for men who have something to prove. I just had something to take. I pressed her down into the bed, my weight pinning her against the mattress. She let out a sharp intake of breath, her eyes locking onto mine. There was no fear there, only a desperate, frantic need to be seen.
I moved my hands over her. I wasn't looking for perfection; I was looking for life. My palms slid over the curve of her hips, gripping tight enough to leave ghost-white marks that would turn red by morning. She arched her back, her chest rising to meet me, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Chaiyo," she gasped. It was the only word she could manage.
I didn't answer. I leaned down and buried my face in the crook of her neck. I bit her, just hard enough to hear her moan, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through my own chest. Her hands came up, clutching at my hair, pulling me closer. She was shaking. Not from the cold—the room was boiling—but from the sheer force of it.
I moved lower. My tongue traced the line of her collarbone, and I felt her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. It was a rhythm I knew well. It was the same rhythm as the countdown before a flintlock sparks.
I entered her with a sudden, rough motion. She cried out, her head tossing back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut. I didn't slow down. I wanted her to feel every bit of the friction, the heat, the raw reality of what we were doing. This wasn't a dance. It was an occupation.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. Her skin was slick with sweat, sliding against mine. I watched her face—the way her brows furrowed in a mix of pain and pleasure, the way her teeth bit into her lower lip until it was raw. She looked beautiful when she was breaking.
"Look at me," I growled.
She opened her eyes. They were glazed, unfocused, but they found mine. I saw the Duchess vanish and the woman remain. For a moment, we weren't in a palace in Thonburi. We were just two animals in the dark.
I hit my peak with a jolt that felt like a gunshot. I collapsed against her, my breath coming in ragged stabs. Malai was still shaking beneath me, her fingers tracing the scars on my back. We stayed like that for a long time. Silence is different after sex. It's heavier.
[The Morning After]
The sun hadn't reached the spires yet, but the light was turning gray. I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on my boots. My gun sat on the bedside table, watching me.
"You're leaving," Malai said. She was wrapped in the furs now, looking small.
"I have to eat," I said. "And your husband's guards are light sleepers."
I stood up and grabbed my flintlock. I checked the powder. Bone dry. Just the way I like it. I looked back at her one last time. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red. She looked human. Not like a puppet in a silk dress.
"When will you come back?" she asked.
"When the gold runs out," I said. I didn't lie to her. Mercenaries don't have the luxury of romance. "Or when the dungeon gets too quiet."
I walked to the window and climbed out onto the balcony. The air was cool and crisp. I didn't look back. I had a long walk back to the lower district, and I needed to find a drink. Thonburi was waking up, and the monsters were waiting.
I jumped down to the garden path and disappeared into the shadows. My stomach was growling. I wondered if the tavern had any of that spiced ale left.
As I reached the outer gate, a man in a hooded cloak stepped out from behind a pillar. He didn't look like a guard. He looked like trouble. My hand went to the grip of my gun.
"Chaiyo," the man said. His voice was thin and raspy. "The Governor has a job for you. A real one."
I smirked. "Does he know I just finished a job for his wife?"
The man didn't laugh. "He knows you're the only one brave enough to go into the Black Pit. And he's willing to pay double."
Double. That was a lot of ale. And a lot of silk.