My Wild Pet (Whispers from the Imperial Cage #2)

Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

Briar

The bed is too big and too small at the same time. I’m used to the small bed on the floor in Aefre’s room and the plush material beneath me now is softer than anything I’ve felt in months, reminding me of where I am, and how high the stakes are.

Gabriel is lying on his side, his naked back to me, his breathing even, but not deep enough to suggest he’s asleep. I’m on my back, staring up at the soft, glowing ceiling, trying to will my body to relax.

The chastity belts.

The Celestial Spire.

The arena.

Gael the Returner.

The Grand Championships.

I can’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard I try, it won’t be enough.

“Can’t sleep?” Gabriel’s voice is quiet.

I turn my head slightly. He’s so gorgeous in the dim light. “No. Too much to think about.”

He shifts, rolling onto his back so we’re both staring at the ceiling now. “Same.”

The silence stretches between us. It’s strange, sharing this space with him. We’ve trained together, had a secret passionate tryst, whispered our hopes in the quiet of our cages, but this is different. If we weren’t wearing the chastity belts we could imagine we were free here.

“What was it like the last time you were here. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I tack on the last sentence in a rush.

He’s quiet, and after a while, I wonder if he’ll even answer. But then he sighs, and says, “It was… overwhelming. It felt like the entire galaxy was watching, waiting for us to succeed or fail. And when we won…” He pauses. “It felt incredible. Like we were invincible. Aefre and Kaelin were so proud. I was proud…”

I can hear the shift in his tone, the weight that follows. “And then?” I prompt.

“And then it all fell apart. Fifi… the Bond Breaker… realizing what I’d done. What I let happen. It wasn’t worth it.”

I reach out and take his hand in mine.

He doesn’t pull away.

“That won’t happen to us,” I say. And when he doesn’t respond I squeeze his hand and look over at him.

His lips twitch into a faint smile, and he squeezes my hand back before letting go. “Je t’ai déjà promis, ma chérie . We walk out together or not at all.”

“Okay,” I say, wishing I had something grander to say in the face of love and death, but I don’t. I’m American. I don’t need to be flowery. My word is my word. I continue to stare at him. There’s nothing I want more than physical contact to seal the deal. Not sex, because we can’t, but I want him to hold me.

But I don’t push him. He’s never had a lover he could share a bed with. Maybe cuddling is a learned behavior. I don’t know, but I have to believe that he still loves me even if he doesn’t want to touch me now.

Once he’s asleep and his breathing is slow, I wiggle my way into his strong embrace and say, “Just hold me like this.” I close my eyes and imagine we’re on holiday at a fancy hotel.