Analisa lay completely still now, breathing slow and even—finally knocked out cold after burning through her anger far longer than her body could handle. For all her power, she didn’t have the stamina of a Circle Warrior, and he’d gotten a little too carried away. The peaceful look on her face only made that contrast sharper.
Moonlight spilled across her skin as Cassian’s hand lazily cupped the curve of her hip, fingers idly sinking into soft flesh. Even in her sleep she gave a faint, sensitive sound, her body still reacting on instinct. He let his hand wander without thinking, more to keep himself anchored while his mind spun.
’Should I just ask her?’ He watched her chest rise and fall. If anyone knew sothing about the cult’s spy inside the Karn earldom, it would be her. And he didn’t have much ti left—he had to be back there in a few days before Naset and the others started assuming he’d died sowhere stupid.
Analisa probably knew sothing—he was almost sure of it. But if he just dropped the question on her out of nowhere, she’d get suspicious. Yeah, she was getting addicted to him, but not that far gone. Not to the point where she couldn’t live without him... or at least not enough that she’d let him stroll back into the Karn earldom without trying to kill him for it. He wasn’t betting on that kind of devotion.
A few days from now would be the perfect mont to slip out anyway. Analisa was heading back to the cult’s main stronghold, and Brigid had so assignnt lined up too—sothing away from the battlefield, though she hadn’t given him the details. And Cassian could always take a detour and et her later if he felt like it.
Not that he needed to. He’d already dragged himself too deep into this whole cult-spy ss—turning cultists into his slaves for Brigid’s tasks, sneaking around their secrets, picking up pieces of information he shouldn’t have access to. And honestly? He didn’t mind. The longer he wandered through their ranks without anyone realizing he wasn’t one of them, the better.
Because in just a few days he’d learned enough to give the Karn kingdom a real chance of winning—at least in this part of the war. And that was worth the trouble.
Thinking it through, he rembered he still owed Brigid a few more slaves. If he managed to round up around thirty, she’d probably let him try that little "back door experience" she’d been dangling in front of him. Though... judging by how pissed she looked earlier, he might need to tread carefully.
He shifted closer to the sleeping Analisa and slid his hand into her hair, tugging just enough to pull her face toward him. She scrunched up, a tiny, troubled frown—like she was almost about to cry, silently begging to be allowed to sleep. She didn’t even get the chance. He caught her lips and sucked on them, deep and slow, his mind already drifting through what else he could gather before heading back. If the cult spy slipped past him, he needed backup plans. So leverage. Sothing to give Karn a fighting chance either way.
Analisa let out a soft, half-asleep moan, relaxing under his mouth. She opened for him without thinking, tongue barely moving, just enough to answer the kiss. It seed to lull her even deeper, her still-sensitive body warming under his touch but settling into sothing loose, almost peaceful—like the heat was draining out of her little by little, leaving her heavier and calr in his arms.
For now, he at least had a solid picture of the cult’s forces here—their unit structure, their numbers, the strength of the combatants. If Analisa left, the strongest remaining would be an Astraval-rank mage. He still wasn’t sure how that compared to a Seventh-Circle warrior, but at minimum they could stall one long enough. And that ant the cult’s sheer numbers would steamroll Karn’s forces. Even with reinforcents... he wasn’t sure how many had arrived since he’d left, but the numbers he rembered weren’t exactly comforting.
He pushed the thoughts away before they spiraled. Too heavy for the middle of the night. He wanted sleep, not strategy. So he focused on Analisa instead—and on what he planned to do to her in the last few days before she returned to the stronghold.
His hand slid down to her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Her soft breasts and hard nipples pressed into his chest, her skin still warm and sticky from earlier. He didn’t mind it; if anything, the clinginess made his pulse pick up. He kissed her again, slow and greedy, enjoying how her lips—slippery, sweet, that faint pink tint—molded to his. Even the contrast of her pale skin, the light wrinkles here and there, had its own kind of heat. He couldn’t explain it.
Yeah, sure—most people would call those little signs of age a turn-off. Fine. But Cassian wasn’t "most people." Maybe it was because he’d only just crossed into adulthood, or maybe it was the thrill of having a powerful, mature woman lt in his hands... a woman who’d gone wild for him, begged for him, lost herself on him. And not just any woman—one beautiful enough, shaped enough, that n would still spill blood just to touch her once.
If he wasn’t aroused by that? He might as well be a eunuch.
But right now? He wasn’t exactly burning with lust. He’d spent plenty of that already today. Lustful as he was, even he had limits, and he’d emptied most of them into Analisa already. So even with her soft, obscene body pressed against his and his mouth lazily kissing hers, his mind drifted off.
This ti it wandered to the Chaos Sword... and to his own blade—the weapon, not the one inside her. For days now he’d had this stubborn doubt gnawing at him. The sword he’d chosen to train with... it didn’t feel right. Not for his body, not for his techniques. Sothing about it clashed. He was starting to think he needed a lighter sword—different shape, different balance—sothing not like the usual ones at all.
’No. No thinking.’
He tried to shove the thoughts away, but they kept creeping back, so he shook his head hard, stopped kissing Analisa, and buried his face between her breasts. He didn’t want strategy, stress, or doubts—just sothing warm, soft, and mind-numbing.
So he latched onto her chest, sucking lazily, and lifted her leg so he could slip his half-hard length between her folds. The heat of her made his eyes droop almost instantly—comforting, heavy, perfect. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to quiet everything.
He suckled her breasts, licked her skin, let his hips rock in a slow, soothing rhythm. Analisa, still asleep, moaned faintly and pulled him closer on instinct. He lifted her arm and pressed his mouth to her armpit, tasting her sweat as he kept thrusting gently.
This wasn’t like the wild, frantic sex they’d had all day. This was... grounding. Cozy, even. His body loosened, his head emptied, and with every slow glide of his hips, sleep crept closer and closer.
He kept tasting her—salt, warmth, that faint sweetness her skin always carried after sex. His tongue dragged lazily along her chest, her ribs, her armpit, and every small twitch she made sent another soft moan spilling out of her sleeping mouth.
Her folds, still sensitive and swollen, hugged him tighter with each slow push of his hips, like her body was pulling him deeper all on its own. The heat around him was so gentle, so warm, it felt like sliding into sleep itself.
He gave a few more lazy thrusts—slow, deep, unhurried. His body shuddered, the pleasure washing through him like a soft wave instead of a crash, and he felt himself spill inside her. Analisa’s breath hitched, her legs tensed, and a faint tremor ran through her even in her sleep.
His eyes grew impossibly heavy. He didn’t fight it.
He slid up her chest, mouth finding her breast without even thinking, lips latching onto her nipple like he belonged there. His thrusts slowed to nothing, but he didn’t pull out—he couldn’t. The warmth was too perfect. Too soft. Too made for him.
Half asleep already, he shifted just enough to bury himself deeper, making sure he wouldn’t slip free while he slept. Her body held him snug, her skin against his chest, her heartbeat dull and steady under his cheek.
Within seconds, his breath evened out.
Still inside her, still sucking lightly at her breast, Cassian drifted off completely—wrapped in her moist vaginal folds.
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