Chapter 38 #2
With that promise in mind, she stepped outside.
Her bare feet tripped over the rocks as she walked to the cliff.
This was different than the one she had faced Graves on.
No trees. Just a rocky cliffside, then a swift fall down into the sea.
In the distance, islands dotted the expanse.
Dark with night as the Fallen slumbered.
She breathed in, feeling the air settle inside her lungs. She knew Az was at her back, but she tried to keep this moment just for herself, even feeling slightly guilty for making him stand watch and not sleep.
When her teeth started to chatter and her flesh was so cold that she no longer felt the infinitesimal twitch of her feathers at her back, she turned to go inside.
Only, as her body twisted and her eyes shifted to the far side of the cliff, where the circular-like palace rounded the edge, she saw another being standing there, watching her.
A flash of white hair, whipping around a face she knew well.
Tharen stood at the small outlook jutting out from his room.
A tiny stone lip surrounded it, short enough that it didn’t seem to be there—as if no barrier were between them.
The curtains were pulled to the side, fastened to hooks, to reveal the bedroom behind him.
His arms were crossed, icy eyes like shards of winter as they devoured her in the dark.
The wind increased.
"How long have you been there?" she called to him. As her focus settled on the Prima, she realized what she had been feeling this whole time may not have been within her—but Tharen’s emotions. Staring at him, she saw the tension in his body, the tick of his jaw, and the whitening of his knuckles.
"Long enough, lamb," Tharen called back to her, voice wavering in the wind.
She turned back to stare at Az and mouthed, Tharen, hoping he would understand.
Luella needed to speak with the mage. Alone.
Az nodded, just once, and she walked carefully over the rocks, leaving Az’s line of sight as she stopped right at the edge of the outlook.
"What do you want?" the Prima asked curtly. Behind him, the curtains billowed, warm, inviting candlelight dancing in the room. His three wolves were curled on the foot of his bed, and Luella spied a flash of black among them—Ven.
The traitor.
When she didn’t reply, he spoke again:
"You should’ve stayed with your demon."
"I couldn’t," Luella pressed, conflicted. Emarelia’s words hung over them, poised to drop like the deadly tip of a blade. It made it hard to look him in the eye. "Do y-you want me to go?"
He laughed darkly. "Like you’ll listen to me either way, little lamb. You have a penchant for doing what you want."
His words were biting and sharp. She knew it was a mask, for she felt his true feelings, beating against her from the thread that connected them.
"Why did you come here? To tempt me more? To dangle yourself before me like a prize I’ll never win?" He ran a hand through his hair. "What Emarelia said was wrong, you know. Twisted. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about."
"I… I think she does." Her toes brushed the edge of the stone lip—she didn’t dare cross it. "I don’t understand how I could feel safe with you, but apparently a part of me does." She stared at the ground as she spoke.
"You shouldn’t," Tharen lashed. "I don’t want to be your safety."
Loathing colored his words. She looked up and saw his eyes hard with denial.
He was lying. To himself—and to her.
"But I did." And maybe I still do, was what she didn’t add.
"I think you care a great deal more than you’ll ever let on, Tharen.
" His name left her lips on a soft whisper, clear and light.
"On the altar," she started, "you listened to me.
You stopped when I asked you to." Her cheeks warmed in the cold.
"That wasn’t safety," Tharen growled. "That was me doing what I had to do. What you vowed to me. It was a transaction—and nothing more."
His words lanced against her, but she saw invisible shards of ice fall away from around him, loosening his shoulders and softening his eyes. She was getting somewhere.
Luella didn’t let up.
"No… it was you listening. It was you caring for me, even when you could have hurt me. You didn’t."
Tharen stepped off the outlook, and with his height, he barely had to lift his foot to cross the stone lip. He came to a stop right before her, his chest nearly brushing her front with his every breath. He leaned down. "You’re wrong. It meant nothing."
She shook her head, eyes drifting to the wolves and Ven. Innocent creatures, finding solace in his midst. Though, it could be argued the wolves were not so innocent—she remembered the bloody maws and growls. They were like Tharen in a way. Tameless.
Until a creature needing protection appeared.
"So, it didn’t mean anything?" Luella asked.
"If you are right, and it was meaningless, then I would not have wings.
" She stepped closer and swore that she felt her wings threaten to stretch out.
She looked behind her, but found them still tucked closely to her back.
That only made her more fierce. "The existence of my wings proves that wrong, Tharen.
I mean something to you, or none of this would have happened. You need to admit it to yourself."
She had already admitted that he meant something to her. Not of her own volition. No, it had been taken from her, as most things had. But at least it was in the open, between them—the truth of the glamor’s key.
His eyes burned with both rage…
And need.
He crossed the last bit of space between them, her chest pressing into his muscled stomach.
She didn’t retreat. Trembling, but she held herself steady.
Tharen’s hand touched her jaw roughly, and he gripped her chin, tilting her head up. "You’re a fool to trust me," he muttered.
"Then make me one," she whispered to him.
A snarl was etched into his face, tugging on the corner of his lips, and then, he kissed her.
Their lips crashed in a symphony of anger.
Tharen devoured her mouth with hunger and desperation. He tilted her head at the perfect angle, forcing her up onto her tiptoes to relieve the strain on her spine as he held her. He parted her lips with his, tongue seeking entry into her mouth. Angrily, his tongue swept inside—claiming her.
He sucked her breath from her lungs, swallowed it down, and left her bereft of air.
This was a true kiss. Nothing like the time he’d first taken her lips.
His hand tangled in her hair, the other moving from her face until he gripped her waist. Her palms landed on his chest, undone.
She couldn’t breathe.
She loved it.
Her head grew light, and still, she let him devour her, unwilling to break away.
When spots sparkled behind her closed lids and she wavered, wings drooping, the tips brushing his arm where it was wrapped around her, he broke away with a growl.
She sucked in air like she had been starved.
Their chests were heaving.
"I’ll ruin you, little lamb," Tharen said, his voice raw.
Breathless, she didn’t step away. "You already have. Still, I am here."
A soft growl drew their attention. The wolves were awake, prowling the stone length of the outlook as they watched with hunger. Ven lay on the bed, grooming herself, golden eyes lazy as if judging Luella for her weakness.
"I can’t be what you need, Luella," Tharen said gruffly. "I don’t even know if I can try."
He stepped away from her.
Lips swollen, terrified and thrilled, she trembled. "Don’t try then. Just be you, Tharen… It is enough."
The wind whipped his hair around him, revealing the pointed tips of his ears. Shadows under his eyes and hollowed cheeks, everything about him was sharp. "No promises, little lamb."
The silence stretched on in the wake of their words—and in the aftermath of his punishing kiss.
Something had shifted between them irrevocably. And they both knew it.
"Go to bed," Tharen said, turning away from her. He whistled sharply under his breath, and the three wolves crowded around him, following as he walked back inside.
His hands gripped the curtains, and his eyes fell to her. "No promises," he repeated, as if to warn her.
She nodded. "I know."
Tharen pulled the curtains shut.
She didn’t go back inside immediately.
It was risky, she knew, but she just needed a moment to herself. Or maybe she needed lots of moments.
Luella blew out a sharp breath, feeling it rustle the frizzed curls around her cheeks, and she swore, the wind seemed to sigh right along with her.
There was no ignoring it—not this time. She could run or hide no longer.
She placed a hand over her heart, wondering if the magic within her was right under her breastbone, knocking against her flesh so as to feel her touch, too, just as she yearned to reach for it.
She found herself stepping away from the safety of Tharen’s outlook, where the golden candlelight threatened to break through the curtain that separated them.
Further still, she ventured, entranced by the feel of the wind against her cheeks, drifting through her feathers like a phantom lover.
Her lips were swollen and tingly, and even the harsh bite of the wind couldn’t numb the feeling.
The trees beckoned, swaying sharply in the wind as the bridges connecting them groaned and creaked. It sounded just like the ship had when they’d been at sea. It reminded her so much of sleeping in that swaying hammock that her lids fluttered shut and a melancholic smile broke free.
She wished she had soaked up every moment aboard that ship.
The near-constant thrum of insects was abuzz, like a distant echo of the mass of thoughts that consumed her.
Perhaps that was why she grew wary the very moment they stopped.
It was utterly silent. No more chirp of birds or chitter of insects.
She realized just how alone she was here in the wind-soaked, tree-covered night.
The creaking of the bridges was no longer comforting to her, but ominous.