Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Briar watched as Eliam moved through their room with methodical precision, his shadows spreading from his fingertips to trace patterns across the floor, up the walls, around the windows.
The marks he left glowed faintly before fading into invisibility, but she could feel them—a subtle pressure in the air, a tingle against her skin.
“What are you doing?” she asked, though she already suspected.
“Wards.” His voice was flat, controlled in that way that meant he was furious about something he couldn’t immediately fix. “They’ll alert me if anything crosses them.”
She watched him work, noting how the patterns seemed to concentrate around the bed, the door, the terrace. All the places she might try to leave from. The warmth in her chest pulsed with unease.
“Anything,” she repeated. “Or just me?”
He paused, his hand hovering over the windowsill. “Both.”
At least he was honest about it. She crossed her arms, trying for levity despite the fear crawling up her spine. “Why not just put a bell around my neck? Save yourself the magical effort.”
The joke fell flat. He turned to look at her, and his expression was so serious it made her stomach drop.
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp. “Don’t make light of this. You walked to him in your sleep. You almost—” He stopped, jaw clenching.
“I know.” The fear she’d been trying to suppress with humor came flooding back. “I know, I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. What if he tries again tonight? What if the wards aren’t enough? What if—”
Eliam crossed to her in three quick strides, his hands finding her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “He won’t take you. I won’t let him.”
“You can’t stay awake forever,” she pointed out, her voice smaller than she intended. “And if he calls when you’re sleeping—”
“Then the wards will wake me.” His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones. “Every ward I’m placing is tied to me. The moment you cross one, I’ll know.”
“A magical leash,” she said, trying for bitter but landing on resigned.
“A necessity.” He didn’t deny it, didn’t try to soften it. “Until we deal with Malus, until we break his hold on you, this is what we have.”
She pulled away from his hands, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. The fear was still there, coiled in her stomach, making her hands shake slightly. She pressed them against her thighs, trying to still the trembling.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted. “Standing at those stones, seeing him there, wanting to go to him even though I knew what he’d do to me. My body just… wouldn’t listen.”
The bed dipped as Eliam sat beside her. His hand found hers, fingers interlacing. “You’re afraid.”
“Terrified,” she corrected. “What if next time you’re not there? What if next time the wards fail? What if—”
“Stop.” His voice was gentle but firm. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“You’re torturing yourself with possibilities.” His hand tightened on hers. “None of which are happening right now.”
“But they could—”
“Many things could happen,” he interrupted. “Most of them won’t. Right now, you’re here. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
She looked at him, saw the intensity in his dark eyes, the controlled way he was holding himself. “How are you so calm about this?”
“I’m not.” The admission was quiet. “When I woke up and you were gone, when I realized what was happening…” His free hand clenched into a fist. “I’ve never felt fear like that.”
The warmth in her chest pulsed, responding to his emotion, and she felt it then—the terror he was keeping locked down, the rage at his brother, the desperate need to keep her safe.
“But being afraid won’t help,” he continued. “So I’m doing what I can. Wards. Plans. Keeping you close.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
He turned to face her fully, his hand releasing hers only to slide up her arm, across her shoulder, to rest at the back of her neck. “Then I’ll find another way. And another. As many as it takes.”
“Eliam—”
“You’re mine,” he said, the words carrying that possessive weight she was learning to recognize. “And I protect what’s mine. Always.”
The warmth in her chest surged toward him, seeking comfort, and she found herself leaning into his touch despite everything.
“I need to stop thinking about it,” she said. “Just for a little while. I need my mind to stop running through all the ways this could go wrong.”
His thumb traced along her hairline, a gentle touch at odds with the intensity of his gaze. “I could help with that.”
“How?”
His hand tightened slightly in her hair, not enough to hurt but enough to make her breath catch. “By giving you something else to focus on.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the warmth in her chest spread through her. “That’s your solution? Distraction through—”
“Through reminding you who you belong to,” he said, already pulling her closer. “Through making you think about nothing but my hands on you, my mouth on you, until you can’t remember why you were afraid.”
Her breath hitched. “That’s not exactly addressing the problem.”
“No,” he agreed, his mouth hovering just above hers. “But it’s effective.”
She wanted to argue, to point out that avoiding the fear wasn’t the same as conquering it. But his lips brushed against hers, barely a touch, and her thoughts scattered.
“Let me,” he murmured against her mouth. “Let me take you apart until the only thing you can think about is how I’m putting you back together.”
The fear was still there, coiled in her stomach. But now there was heat too, spreading lower, making her shift closer to him.
“Yes,” she breathed, and felt his satisfaction through the warmth as he claimed her mouth properly.
His kiss was possessive, demanding, leaving no room for thoughts of Malus or marks or midnight compulsions. There was only Eliam, his hands in her hair, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, the solid presence of him grounding her in the present moment.
When he pulled back, she was breathing hard, her hands fisted in his shirt.
“Better?” he asked, though the satisfied curve of his lips said he already knew the answer.
“Getting there,” she managed.
“Then I’ll have to work harder.” His hands moved to the laces of her dress. “Until you can’t remember anything but this. But me.”
And for the first time since waking at the border stones, the fear loosened its grip, replaced by something much more immediate and infinitely more pleasant.
His fingers worked the laces with deliberate slowness, each pull making the dress loosen incrementally. The anticipation built with every movement, making her breath come shorter, her skin hypersensitive to every brush of his knuckles through the fabric.
“You’re going too slow,” she complained, though her voice came out breathier than intended.
“Am I?” His mouth found her throat, teeth scraping over her pulse point. “I told you I was going to take you apart. That requires patience.”
The dress finally fell loose enough that he could push it from her shoulders. The cool air raised goosebumps across her exposed skin, but his hands followed immediately, warm and possessive as they traced the curve of her shoulders, down her arms.
His mouth moved lower, tracing the edge of where her dress still clung to her chest. Each kiss was deliberately placed, mapping territory he’d already claimed but seemed determined to mark again.
When his teeth closed over the soft skin above her breast, biting down hard enough to leave a mark, she gasped and arched beneath him.
“Every time you feel afraid,” he said against her skin, “I want you to touch these marks and remember who you belong to. Remember whose bed you’re in. Whose hands are the only ones allowed to touch you.”
His fingers hooked into the dress, pulling it down and off with more impatience now. She was left in only her undergarments, and those didn’t last long under his focused attention.
“Still thinking about him?” he asked against her ear, and she could hear the dark satisfaction when her breath hitched.
“Trying not to,” she admitted, because the image of Malus waiting beyond the border kept flickering behind her eyelids.
“Then I’m not doing my job properly.”
He turned her suddenly, pressing her face-down onto the bed. The unexpected movement made her gasp, her hands twisting in the sheets. “Beautiful,” he murmured and she felt him move behind her, solid and warm, his hands running down her spine with possessive intent.
“Up,” he commanded, his hands finding her hips, guiding her to her knees while keeping her chest pressed to the mattress.
The position made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She could feel his gaze on her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and her face flushed hot against the sheets.
His hands traced the backs of her thighs, up over the curve of her ass, deliberate and claiming. When he pulled her undergarments down and off, the cool air against her heated flesh made her shift restlessly.
“Stay still,” he said, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her in place.
She tried, but the anticipation was too much.
She could feel him behind her, still clothed, just watching.
The power dynamic—her naked and exposed while he remained in control—made the warmth in her chest pulse frantically.
It should have frightened her, but instead, it grounded her.
This was Eliam. This was safe. This was choosing to give up control instead of having it stolen.
When his fingers finally touched her, sliding through her the wetness between her thighs, she moaned into the mattress. The angle let him go deeper, find spots that made her whole body jerk with sensation.
“Such sweet sounds you make,” he said with dark satisfaction. “I’ll never get enough.”