Born for Silk (The Cradled Common)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Aster

Feeling a warm presence beneath me, I slowly bat my eyes open, and for a breath, I almost forget where I am. Then his room blinks into place, the conversations from yesterday and how ‘everything is different now’ soak into me.

His chest rises and falls, and I trace the rippling tattoos with my finger. I absorb the moment, exploring his skin, trailing my fingertip in the valley between thick muscles. Then I poke a scar to find it unyielding like lead.

“Bullets…” he murmurs, his voice sleepy— husky. “Bullet holes. The bullets are inside.”

“Pardon?”

With a deep growl that rumbles beneath me, he stretches out, his body tightening with strength and power as he wakes up. “I earned them.”

A lump swells in my throat. “That’s tragic.”

I think about the big scar on his lower lip, the one that easily shapes his resting expression into a snarl.

“And the one on your lip?” I ask.

“Odio.”

I blink fast. “ Why ?”

“To punish me.”

“For what exactly?”

A dark laugh leaves him, but it’s hollow, haunting. “I decapitated his previous master. He needed to show me that it mattered to him in the only way he knew how.”

Woah.

I don’t know what to say to that, but I am not entirely surprised. After all, Odio is a beast of loyalty. Of defence. Of royalty. The books say that when the eagles all die, it will mean the end of The Cradle as we know it.

“How old is Odio?” I ask.

Rome’s arms cover me, a blanket of impossible warmth and shelter. My skin prickles as he explores my naked form curled on top of him.

“He is fifty-five.” His answer is mechanical, as though he is no longer interested in the conversation, but keeps his word and allows me to ask my questions.

“How long do they live?”

“His mother lived to eighty-six. Twice the lifespan of the Wedgetailed Eagle from the old-world.”

His hands would be roaming and lazy if they weren’t so large, warm, and involuntarily firm, handling and consuming every inch of my flesh.

His nose moves into my hair, “ Aster. ” He inhales. “Vulnerability. Mine.”

He is trying to distract me… The sound of my name rolling along his tongue drags a moan along my tongue, but I need to focus. On… my ‘interrogations.’

I want to push off his chest, but his hands are everywhere, and I’m not sure I can.

“My king,” I start, worrying my bottom lip, “What did Iris do? What is to become of her?”

His palms freeze on me, the long pause rising the hairs along my skin. “These”—a big hand pushes between my legs and wraps around my upper thigh— “scars. Don’t lie to me, little creature. You have already done it once.”

How does he know? I fight my lungs for the courage to breathe steady. “I was worried for Iris… You killed my Silk Wardeness, my king.”

“I executed her,” he corrects.

“And Iris?”

“Was examined for implanting yesterday.” His voice is dangerously even. “She is not pregnant and so will suffer the same fate."

I don’t think as I push up off his chest, the word flying out with a punch. “No!”

He glares down at me through his lashes. “ Yes.” Breath shakes from me, seeing the endless pits of his darkness shrink the blue in his eyes to thin rings.

“Show her mercy, my king,” I plea. “Show her mercy. She is my oldest companion.”

“You only need Odio and me.”

“I want my Collective, too.”

I gasp as his hand launches for my throat, wrapping around the column, dragging me up until I am close to his face. To catch myself, my hands meet the mattress beside his head.

“I have decided,” he growls the words through a tight jaw, his savage dominance assaulting me.

My beast…

Instinctively, my body twitches to recoil, but I don’t. I am not afraid of him.

I press my forehead to his, squeeze my eyes shut, and exhale hard. “Please, my king. For me.”

A long hiss leaves his mouth, and the pressure from his hand lessens around my neck. “I will spare her execution, bu?—”

I lift my head. “Honestly?” Hope blazes in my eyes.

His expression remains dark, an internal battle carves across sharp, tense features. “But she will be sent to the Black Matter Tower to birth a legacy for Lord Coober. Accept this. And be very careful with what you say next. This concept of love is somewhat new to me. Do not make me despise it before I have a chance to adapt to its incessant rule.”

But she is broken.

My brows pinch, confused. “But— But she has been opened by another.”

“This will not bother him. He will merely appreciate her strong Xin De genus.”

“Wait?” My heart swarms with heat as a word he used earlier finds a home in my chest. “Did you use the word, ‘love?’ You mean…” I hesitate. “That you…”

“Unbearably, yes.”

I inhale his response, accepting the answer, however strangled, as if this tiny one-syllable word has the power to wrap my skin in a warm hold and ensure my happiness. I know that’s not true, but maybe, love does last forever…

Maybe it is the only thing that truly can.