A Storm of Shadows (Fates and Fables #3)

29. Onora

Chapter 29

Onora

O nora splashed the water in the tub, making the bubbles pop and float in the air. It had been a long time since she’d taken a bath like this. Usually, the showers at the guild, made from enchanted waterways in the building, were quick and practical. But having a ready source of water and elven enchantments to keep the water the exact right temperature was too tantalizing to give up. Her aching body was enjoying it immensely.

She needed to get out and give Dryston a turn, but in addition to the comfort of it, she was none too inclined to face the two males downstairs. Her time with Tannin had been a whirlwind. He was overly romantic and a talker, and she’d been lonely as the pit. They’d both made mistakes they weren’t proud of.

And Dryston ... she didn’t know what to make of him or what to do about him. She’d been promising to kill him this whole time, and now was her chance. Well, after they looked for Tannin’s friend, at least. She was nothing without her word. That was for sure.

Now she didn’t want to. When she’d vowed to destroy the Lord of Shadows all those years ago, it had seemed so straightforward. But Dryston put a real kink in those plans. He clearly wasn’t guilty, and something in her rioted at the thought of harming him. Perhaps it always had. Perhaps that’s why she had hesitated.

She scrubbed her body and dipped her head under the water, slowly emerging and then stepping out. Grabbing a towel, she dried herself off, wrapping it around her. She’d left the clothes Tannin found for her in the room next door where she was staying, cursing herself now as the cold nipped at her exposed skin.

As she left the washroom, she halted, coming face-to-face with Dryston as he ascended the stairs. Every part of her hummed, the too keen awareness of her nakedness sending a thrill and a flush through her. He’d seen more of her before, but that had been out of necessity, and this felt somehow markedly different. Maybe because their dynamic was changing.

Maybe because part of her wanted to let the towel fall to the ground, see how he would react. Yet ... she remembered in Silenus’s house, how he’d swiftly put a stop to her straddling him and how that had made her feel. She squared her shoulders, stepping toward her room at the same time he moved forward, into her path. His eyes took her in with a heat that set her own body aflame.

She swallowed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what,” he purred.

She gestured wildly. “Like that .”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He took a step toward her and she stepped back, hitting the wall. She cursed under her breath, scowling up at him.

“It’s too intense.”

He only hummed, stepping in closer and she almost reached out to feel his hard pecs, but she curled her fists into balls instead.

“I think you like it.”

“I do not.” Her breathy voice betrayed her, though.

Dryston’s eyes traced a line along her jaw, his hand coming up and his knuckle following that trail. She moved along his hand, her lids falling heavy with lust. His scent filled her nostrils, dancing along her body and twining with her own, making a new smell.

What was wrong with her?

She snapped out of it and jerked away. He winced slightly, as if she’d struck him, and her chest tightened.

Fuck.

What was wrong with her?

“This thrall of yours is obnoxious,” she said.

He chuckled, his face coming close to hers as his eyes blinked and darkened, full of desire, his breath heavy and uncontrolled, like he was fighting some deep, primal impulse. His thumb traced her lower lip.

Then he placed his lips close to her ear, the whisper of his words sending a pulsing ache through her whole body. “Everything you’re feeling, Onora, is all your own.”

“Fuck you.”

He tsked. “Now, now. Where’s your manners? Say please and I’ll consider it.”

Her breath caught as his thumb moved lewdly across her lips, his tongue licking his own, and she longed to feel that inside her mouth. Without thinking, she moved closer, leaning in for a kiss.

Then he stepped away, a smirk spreading on his face. He turned and chuckled, self-satisfied. Rage poured through her like molten lava. Before she thought, she brushed past him and when she did, she flung her leg out, hitting the back of his knee, grasping his shoulder and flipping him to the ground. He fell with a thud, a groan, and a curse. She looked back, smirking at the rage in his face.

“Careful, it seems to be slippery there,” she crooned, walking to her room, shutting the door tightly.

The fire crackled in the hearth, a tense silence forming between them all after dinner. They would set out at dawn to look for Tannin’s friend, but she didn’t know the protocol for how to act in her ex-lover’s house while sitting next to another male that had inspired lurid fantasies to run rampant for the last few hours in her mind.

Tannin took his lyre off the wall and tuned it up, slowly playing it. “Do you remember this song, Onora?”

She had little interest in a walk down memory lane, but she nodded her head, resting it against the cushion of the couch, watching his lithe fingers on the strings.

“I sang it to you that first night,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes wandering off to that distant time and place. “I always thought that’s what drew you to me.”

Onora groaned internally. Another point they’d been incompatible with: his errant romanticism and her rigid practicality.

“It’s a lovely song,” Dryston said.

She cut a glance at him and saw a pleasant smile on his face, despite the tense lines running underneath. Was he ... ? Onora cocked her head to the side, and his nostrils flared as he looked away from her.

She leaned over, whispering so only he could hear as Tannin continued playing, his voice humming the song low. “Are you jealous of my ex-lover?”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “Hardly. If anything, I pity him.”

“For what?”

Dryston’s eyes met hers again, their faces close, too close, and the heat in his gaze stole her breath away. “He had the dishonor of knowing you intimately.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t been itching for the chance yourself.”

His tongue licked his bottom lip, the movement so sensual she thought she might lose her mind. She sat back, staring ahead, trying to calm her racing heart.

Tannin stopped playing, adjusting the tuning of the lyre. “I wrote a song for you.” Tannin looked at her, and she gave him a flat-lipped smile.

“Oh, there’s no need to show us,” Onora said, grimacing.

“I want to hear it,” Dryston said, flashing a devilish grin at Onora.

She promised him death with her eyes, which only made him grin bigger.

Tannin began playing, the sound lovely and his voice lovelier, but the words made her cringe, wanting to pass away and die. He swore his love for her, undying, eternal, stronger than the jaws of death.

Dryston tapped his foot along, hands behind his head, too much joy on his face. Onora had a mind to cause him great levels of pain for that. He kept stealing glances at Onora to see her reaction, and he suppressed a laugh each time.

“Tannin, I haven’t been this entertained in ages,” Dryston said as Tannin keyed up for another song.

Onora drew in a deep breath, smiling broadly and turning to Tannin. “Me, either. It’s making me remember all the good times we had. Here. In this house. Upstairs.”

Tannin’s brows shot up and Dryston’s grin faltered, turning to one of annoyance.

To say she felt buoyed by his reaction was an understatement. He was jealous.

Tannin’s eyes narrowed on her and he stood, putting his instrument away. “Don’t play with me, Onora. I’m going to bed. As both of you should, too.”

He left the room, shaking his head, and Onora sighed, sitting back.

“You don’t have to be cruel to him,” Dryston said, still annoyed.

“I’m not being cruel to him. All of this bluster is a male who romanticizes what’s not right in front of him and forgets what he has when it is.”

Dryston just raised his brows and she shrugged.

“Tannin has many great qualities, but being anchored in reality isn’t one of them. He’s going to forget what I said the moment he’s asleep.” She turned, facing him and drawing her legs up against her. The fire cast flickering shadows on his face, giving his already strong features even more definition.

Gods, but he was perfect.

Which was annoying as the darkest pit.

“If anyone was bothered by my words”—she said, taking her foot and poking his leg—“it’s you.”

He scoffed but didn’t lean away from the touch. Instead, his eyes fixed there for a moment before finding hers again. “Hardly. You keeping your lusty gaze on another is giving me a break.”

He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. As if you haven’t been staring at my ass for days.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Lieutenant. Many a female has fallen prey to my charms, and plenty of males, too.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yes, because of your thrall. Don’t get cocky just because you have a magical thread pulling others to you.”

He was silent for a moment, a look passing across his face she couldn’t read. Then he leaned forward, taking up the space on the couch and making her lean back against the arm as he braced on the back, coming over her.

“Do you want in on a little secret?”

She blinked, barely able to take in his words and process them. But she nodded in agreement, unable to speak.

“There is no thrall. That’s a lie. What you’re feeling for me is very real, and very much on you.”

It was her turn to scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I?—”

But his thumb found her mouth, tracing the bottom of it, silencing her in a deluge of desire. His nostrils flared, drawing in a breath, and he closed his eyes, breathing hard.

Fuck.

If the thrall wasn’t real, then what was this?

“You’re lying,” she whispered. “Besides, I’m not interested in you or attracted to you.”

He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t bother lying to me.”

He smiled, all smug arrogance, and rage lit in her chest. In a moment, she had her legs wrapped around his waist and she flipped him, tumbling him back to the other side of the couch, laying back, straddling him—her hands on his chest.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she placed a finger over it, shaking her head. He slammed it shut, watching her intently. She ran her hands up his chest, his heaving breath an erotic melody. Then she ran them up his neck, through his hair, finding the base of his horns.

His cock twitched and he tried to shift under her to hide it, but she pressed down against it, and he drew in a deep breath. She ran a thumb up the length of his horn and he gritted his teeth, his cock fully hard under her.

Fuck, he was huge.

She shifted her hips, grinding against him, and he let out a strangled moan.

“Onora,” he gasped out, and she thought she might come just from the way he said her name.

His hand flew up to her hips, sliding up her waist and breasts, palming them, and everything in her lit on fire.

Fuck.

She was losing control. She’d meant this as a tease, as a competition to show him just how much he wanted her too, to wipe that smug look on her face.

But if she let him keep touching her, she’d also let him ravage her on this couch.

She pulled back, standing, leaving him staring at her confused. And she smirked.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, too.” Then she turned and walked up to her room.