Chapter 51
Chapter
Fifty-One
EVIE
E ryn was a stubborn woman.
I liked that.
I respected that.
I even wished to have that no-nonsense air of hers, that demanded respect just by being present.
What I didn’t like was Eryn insisting she give up her own bedroom for me to sleep in.
“It would shame me in front of the entire village if you refuse my generous offer,” she’d said when I protested. “You want me shamed?”
Eryn had a knack for blatant persuasion–and a very cozy bedroom. The bed was small and low to the floor, with a mountain of soft pelts on top of it. Above the bed, two aged shepherds’ staffs were criss-crossed on the wall, as if to ward off bad dreams, and little colorful, wooden talismans hung from the mirror resting on top of an old dowry chest.
Phoenix Peak was quiet, but its silence was stifling and constrained. The silence in the mountains was tranquil and alive–and shattered by my small grunts.
“Godsdammit.” Each twist of my body ached, as I struggled to bend my arms low enough to reach that spasming muscle in my back.
Eryn had given me a special clawroot salve usually reserved for the aches and pains of the elders. It smelled minty and had already numbed my fingers, but my body refused to cooperate. It kept on shivering from the cold and the day’s fatigue.
This was ridiculous. I’d been molded by the mountains; it shouldn't have been this difficult.
I’d gotten complacent in the Capital and my big bed.
I dreaded riding for another full day in this state, so I grit my teeth, ignored the sting in my muscles, and tried again.
Shivers skittered down my spine.
A second later, muffled voices and slow steps neared the room.
No, no, no, no–
The door opened and he walked in.
I became painfully aware I stood there in nothing but a slip, body contorted in an unnatural angle. I righted myself instantly; the heat spreading through my chest overtook the soreness.
He closed the door softly and leaned against it.
Watching.
Waiting.
Our eyes met in the mirror’s reflection. Neither of us said anything.
I knew what he was doing–of course I did, we were as inescapably linked as two mortals could be.
Silently asking for permission to join me.
I also knew, deep within my bones, that all I had to do was say no, and he’d find somewhere else to sleep. Probably all crouched and squeezed in a carriage, because the prince would never take someone else’s bed.
Venomous words about finding Kaya and her bed pricked my tongue, but I swallowed them back down.
“Eryn tried the shame line on you too, didn’t she?” I said, letting humor do the talking for me. My heart still found the energy to gallop, despite the exhaustion.
A corner of his lips ticked up. “She used the dishonor one on me.”
“She knows where to strike.”
He huffed a laugh, but it sounded weary. His gaze stayed attached to mine in the hazy, aged mirror, never straying.
I gulped and nodded.
He locked the door.
Then, of all things, he walked away from the door with that feline grace of his and turned his back to me. He set his sword on the floor next to where his head would lie and unsheathed the rest of his weapons. Dagger after dagger hissed in the room which suddenly felt smaller.
The sense of quiet comfort had vanished, replaced with thick tension.
Or maybe it was just in my head, because The Dragon seemed wholly unaffected, focused on undressing himself.
I still couldn’t feel all his emotions and I hoped he didn’t get a whiff of my complicated ones.
The two of us getting ready for bed together felt so right and so wrong at the same time.
An ordinary routine for an ordinary couple.
But that wasn’t us.
The last time we’d been in the same room, we’d discussed divorce. Now we stood with our backs to each other, each going about their business.
I didn’t know what I expected, but this cold, indifferent shuffling around each other wasn’t it.
The crinkle of his leather armor filled the room, but the blood ringing in my ears was louder.
I let out a small sigh and went back to my physical aches and pains, slicking my fingers with the salve again. Still, no matter how I stretched my body, the soreness kept me from reaching that one spot.
Another low grunt escaped my lips.
I still had my backside to salve and massage, but now he was in the room, and I was suddenly breathing too hard and fast and he took off the top half of his armor and he was shirtless and I felt lightheaded and–
“Do you want help?” His low, gravel voice pierced through my panic.
I licked my lips. Did I want his help? Not need it, which would have been easier to answer, but did I want it?
It would make things faster and easier, but his hands on me and–
“Yes,” I said before I lost whatever semblance of nerve I had in me.
It might’ve been my imagination, but he took his own sharp inhale as he finally turned to me. The muscles on his torso, bigger and more defined from the war, tensed with each step he took. The heat coming off him chased my small tremors away.
His breaths ghosted along the nape of my neck. Gods, it felt as good as the first time.
He took the little salve pot, our fingers not even touching.
His eyes found mine in the mirror once more, face set in that icy mask he used to wear back when we’d first met. “With or without my powers?”
My lips parted as my stomach clenched. I’d just made peace with the idea of him touching my back, but to have his powers seep into me?
“They’re not necessary,” he went on, sounding completely indifferent, even as the words came out rushed. “This salve just numbs. I could make the pain go away so you won’t suffer for the rest of the journey.”
If only he could make the pain in my heart go away.
I sucked in a big gulp of air. I could either stick to my pride and curse myself tomorrow, or be done with it in five minutes–
You like playing with fire , Adara’s words resounded in my mind.
I could debate the decision until the sun rose once more. But the bitter truth was that I wanted him to do it.
“Alright,” I whispered, so low I barely heard myself. “If–if it helps with the pain.”
But he heard me. Another one of his heated breaths hit my shoulders as he rubbed the salve between his large palms.
The moment he splayed them on my back, my muscles tensed so fast, I almost flinched.
He froze, waiting for me to settle back into his gentle touch. Even as I did so, tension still coursed through me.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll only untangle the knots. I won’t delve in deep.”
His palms began to rub my muscles in soothing circles.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
Reverently.
Breath by breath, I did relax. Then and only then, did I feel an unfamiliar trickle in my veins. My palms instantly fisted.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said. “We can stop anytime you want.”
I nodded, not trusting my words. He still looked at my reflection, taking in every reaction and readjusting his touch accordingly. My eyelids fluttered and he pressed harder. My lips tensed, and he went back to rubbing my flesh in circles.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Are you ready?”
I hummed, unfisting my fingers and splaying them on top of the chest. A curious warmth spread through me, radiating from his palms. The very essence of him, determined and in control, seeped through my veins. With that renowned control of his, the warmth coursed straight through the hardest knots, pulsing against them delicately until they untangled.
The soreness ebbed away under his gentle ministrations. He was right–whatever his powers were doing to me, it didn’t feel like they reached further than the outer layers of my muscles.
It felt like a lukewarm rain, the water soothing and lulling my worries away.
“That feels good,” I heard myself muttering.
He grunted a reply, palms gliding lower over my slip. His part of the bond still felt like a glacial void, but my side was vibrating, needy and feverish. I hoped that the numbness from his side also wouldn’t let him sense me.
He didn’t give any sign that he did, wholly concentrated on the task at hand–making me absolutely melt in his arms.
“Better?” he asked, as if completely oblivious to what he was doing to me.
“Yes,” I hissed a whisper as my fingers dug into the wood, looking for something, anything to ground me. I closed my eyes, because I couldn’t keep seeing my reflection, cheeks all flushed, lips wet and parted.
The face of a hypocrite.
How could I tell him I can’t move past the wedding in one breath and then crave his touch?
I could try and convince myself it was just my body’s reaction, already starved for attention, affection, and touch.
But the truth was that I wanted him .
“Gods.” I breathed out. “Why didn’t I ask you to do this earlier?”
“Because you’re a stubborn Vegheara brat,” he said without missing a beat, but there was laughter in his voice.
“How–” I licked my lips, body bending down further. The tightness in my chest grew. “How do Blood Brotherhood healers do this with their patients?”
It felt so exquisitely intimate, having him coursing through my blood. He was inside me as no mortal should be and it felt so right.
“A mate’s touch is different than a healer’s,” he said. His head lowered, until his lips were only a hair away from my shoulder. He inhaled sharply, as if scenting me. “And I’m only at the surface. Imagine if I dove in deeper.”
For my sanity, I didn’t want to imagine that. But my thoughts had passed the threshold of rational the moment he’d stepped inside the room. They wandered, sinful and wanton, picturing his body covering mine, strong arms circling me and keeping me tight to his chest and not letting me go. One hand in my hair, pulling tightly, the other splayed on my chest and–
“Want me to do your thighs, too?” his voice had gone low and sent a shot of lust straight through me.
Fuck yes. “Please.”
His growl twisted my insides. I was playing with fire and I didn’t care.
He leaned his strong body over mine, chest touching my back each time I inhaled. He rested his left palm against the wall, his right snaking down my body, until it reached the hem of my slip. We both groaned as his fingers touched my thigh.
Skin on skin.
The sensation drummed through me, picking up speed and intensity. I struggled to gasp air into my lungs.
His large palm caressed the soft skin, reaching higher and higher underneath the piece of silk. Just as his fingers rose to the junction of my legs, where all the tension in my body had seeped into, he changed course and glided up my backside. His fingers dug harder into my flesh, relieving the soreness in a blink.
He was very thorough in his quest to massage me into bliss.
The connection between us turned hot and burning and craving . My body practically yanked at the bond, frantic for more.
“Careful,” he warned. “You’re pulling me in.”
I shook my head. I didn’t know how, but a deep chasm of need had opened up in me, waiting to be filled. My own Protectorate power practically purred in delight.
“Menace, I swear to Xamor–”
He could swear all he wanted, the bond didn’t care. It trembled with need, snapping at attention.
A wave of energy rocked between us with the intensity of a thousand waves. I sucked in a breath as the barrier caved under the pressure.
He was suddenly everywhere.
So soft, so sweet, warm. If I move my hand an inch to the right, I could make her scream my name.
Mine, mine, mine. I won’t let her go. I’ll burn the whole of Malhaven for her.
She doesn’t want you. You don’t deserve her.
You’re weak . How could she ever want you?
“Enough.” He instantly pulled back, body, mind, and powers, leaving me unsteady on my feet and lightheaded.
A wave of cold air rushed over my heated skin as the barrier between us leaped back up, severing the flow of emotions.
“You should be fine for the next few days,” he said flatly. “You’re welcome.”
Before I could turn or protest, he was getting into bed on his side, closest to the door. Without a second glance, he pulled a small pelt over him, and turned his face toward the door and his weapons, while I ached in a totally different way than before.
I’d played with fire and I got burned.