Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
LAYDEN
I lay awake most of the night, watching Phoenix sleep beside me in bed. I can go a long time without sleep, and considering she means this marriage to be in name only, I know this may be a rare opportunity. The fact that we’re even sharing a bed is only because we’re in Vlad’s compound.
It’s better this way, I try to tell myself.
I don’t want to lose the best friend I’ve ever known.
It would kill me if I ever did anything to drive Phoenix away again.
I lost her once because of my own idiocy.
The loneliness afterwards... I’ve always known hunger of every kind, but that was an emptiness that almost drove me mad.
I lashed out at the whole world and nearly destroyed my brothers because of it.
The thing is, when Phoenix first came to me in that forest, pulling me out of my self-appointed exile and bringing me back to life—or really, to life for the first time—it was like color bursting into the world. I’d been cold for so long. Alone for centuries.
Even before the forest, when I was with my brothers, we just… existed. Moving robotically through each day. We obeyed our Creator-Father’s commands like we were mere cogs in his never-ending war machine.
All I did was deprive and bring misery wherever I went. No one was more surprised than me when I finally lashed out at our Creator-Father. But I just snapped. I’d had enough. It wasn’t courage so much as the build-up of a lifetime of desperation. I didn’t care what happened to me if I failed.
Sure, I regretted the lack of forethought as my wings were cut from my back and the searing hell-metal was poured on the raw stumps.
I close my eyes, chest clenching with the memory. When I open them again, my chest eases, watching Phoenix as she sleeps. She huffs out a little breath and moves in her sleep, snuggling against my chest. One of her legs slides over mine.
I freeze, barely daring to breathe. The fullness of being close to her makes me feel so many things I don’t have words for. Then I force myself to relax before my muscles going tense wakes her.
She’s so warm. It’s the kind of warmth I forgot existed when I sat so long in that frozen forest. Everything about her is enticing.
Her hair smells like the fancy shampoo from the bathroom—something floral I can’t name.
Her breath is soft against my chest. The weight of her thigh over mine is perfect torture.
I look at the ceiling, trying to memorize the feeling of everywhere her body presses against mine. The curve of her hip where my hand could rest if I were brave enough. The way her fingers curl loosely against my ribs. How her breasts press against my side with each breath.
A monster like me doesn’t deserve even a night’s respite of such heaven, but I’m stealing it all the same.
Maybe I’m a thief, just like my Creator-Father after all.
Because when Vlad said I needed to marry his granddaughter to fulfill the blood oath my brother owed him, I didn’t protest.
The hunger in me rushed to agree.
Even though I know Phoenix hates the way her grandfather manipulates her. Of course she wouldn’t be interested in me when I’m part of another one of his schemes.
I was a fool, seeing my brothers with their consorts and thinking this was my opportunity for the same. What do I know of comfort? Of love?
My mind immediately shies away from the word. It’s not love with Phoenix. I just feel affection for her. It’s all I’m capable of.
We are good companions. A good match. I’m a being of hunger, and she’s fed by beings of endless thirst. And she couldn’t respect anyone susceptible to her compulsion, so I’m literally the only one on earth she could marry.
It still doesn’t mean she wants you.
I shake off the thought. Wanting doesn’t matter anymore. We’re married now, for better or worse.
I sigh quietly and close my eyes, going back to memorizing the feel of her. Her soft exhale. The feel of her abdomen expanding against my side as she draws in another breath. Her warm thigh tucked against mine. The way she clings to me in her sleep with complete trust.
In wakefulness, she is all hard lines and cool determination. It’s only here in the dark secret of night, she’s gone soft. So impossibly soft.
My body reacts the way a man does to a woman being this close, but I ignore it. I may crave her, but I would never disrespect her trust. The torture of having her so close is welcome. I’m familiar with disciplining myself against hunger.
I continue committing the feel of her to memory until morning light begins creeping through the window. Golden rays slant across the bed, catching in her dark hair.
I want to deny the light. If I message the old charioteer and threaten him, will he carry the sun backward, and allow the moon to linger a little longer?
Just a little longer.
But too soon, Phoenix’s eyes flutter awake.
For a brief, perfect second, she doesn’t move. Her blue eyes meet mine, sleepy and unguarded. I see something in them—confusion, maybe warmth—before awareness crashes in.
She realizes how she’s crawled against me during the night. How close we are.
She yanks away, wiping at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry.” The word comes out rough with sleep. “I didn’t mean to—” She waves a hand vaguely. “I’m not usually a cuddler.”
“It’s fine,” I say quietly. “You were sleeping.”
She won’t meet my eyes. “I’ll go get showered.”
Her warmth disappears as she flees the bed for the bathroom. My teeth clench against the emptiness. The sudden cold. I jam my head back against the pillow and scrub a hand down my face.
“Fool,” I mutter to myself.
Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opens. Phoenix emerges wrapped only in a towel.
I’ve mastered myself in the time she was away, but seeing her like this tests that control. Water droplets cling to her shoulders. Her hair is damp, darkened almost to black. The towel is tucked just above her breasts, ending high on her thighs.
I avert my eyes, keeping my distance as I pass her. “I’ll get washed up as well.”
But I catch her scent as I walk by—clean skin, that floral shampoo, something uniquely her underneath it all.
She makes a small noise of assent, and I can feel her eyes on my back as I head to the bathroom.
Fuck, this is awkward. Our old easiness around each other is gone. Considering the circumstances, I suppose it’s to be expected, but I still hate it.
I take the fastest shower of my life, with cold water to clear my head. I try not to think about how Phoenix stood in this same shower minutes ago, bare feet on these same tiles.
By the time I get out, Phoenix is already dressed in her usual uniform—tight black jeans, long-sleeved black shirt, busted-up combat boots. Her black hair is up in a ponytail, still slightly damp at the ends. Princess of darkness. I hide my smile.
She looks up at me as I emerge. Her eyes widen slightly before her cheeks flush pink. Then turns her back quickly.
I’m still just wearing my towel, tied around my waist. Water drips down my chest.
“Hurry up,” she says, but her voice sounds a little breathless. “There’s a lecture I don’t want to miss in the city at eleven.”
I pause as I tug a shirt over my head. “What kind of lecture?”
We had a few weeks to prep for the wedding, but I was busy running interference between Vlad’s entourage and my family most of the time.
The little time I did get to spend with Phoenix, Sabra was there too.
We’ve been monitoring global communications, screening the fallout from the bit of magic we did a month earlier to stave off the end of the world.
It was a novel experience, stopping an apocalypse instead of causing one.
Mostly we were just monitoring squabbling amongst officials about government cover-ups and military solutions in case of another “anomaly.” Plus the rampant public conspiracy theories about what actually happened.
So far, we haven’t come across anyone except the other mages guessing the truth—that Phoenix, Sabra, and I called over interdimensional beings from another plane to consume all nuclear energy on earth before an angelic AI launched all the nukes to World War III.
It was a near thing. Some missiles were already in the air.
But we pulled it off just in time.
The mages from various continents are rumbling about putting together a global council for the first time—something like a magical United Nations—to keep something like this from happening ever again.
Or at least to punish any magic movers who get out of control.
The human population is supposed to be ignorant of the existence of magic.
Or at least that’s the hot topic of debate amongst the mages—whether the policy of suppression should continue.
Sabra says there are so many factions she can’t imagine them ever agreeing on a council. But time will tell.
For the moment, things are calm.
I see Phoenix’s shoulders straighten. “Are you decent?”
I finish buttoning my pants. “Yes.”
She turns around and takes a breath like she’s steadying herself. “So we haven’t exactly had a lot of time to talk, huh?”
I shrug, offering a smile. “We were a little busy dealing with the fallout from that almost-end-of-the-world thing.”
Plus the fact I think both of us willfully allowed the aftermath to distract us from the reality of our upcoming nuptials. But I don’t add that part.
She nods, looking down at her hands. “I don’t think I told you before, but I’m in school. I’m getting my Ph.D. in Ancient Religions.”
I blink several times. “Vlad lets you—?”
Her eyes flash up. “Vlad doesn’t let me do anything. He doesn’t get to decide what I do anymore.” But there’s less bite in it than I expected. Like she’s defensive rather than aggressive. “I live my own life.”
“I’m really glad, Phoenix,” I say gently. “I know things were different last time I was here.” I didn’t know much at the time, except that she’d disappear at odd hours to do jobs for him. And sometimes come back withdrawn, unwilling to talk to me or Sabra for days sometimes.
She stares at me for a long moment before her eyes drop. “Yeah. He and I came to an understanding after you left.”
I feel my eyebrows go up. I’ve never known Vlad to be understanding about anything.
She sees my skepticism. A small smile tugs at her mouth—not a fake one, either. “As in, I made him understand some things. It involved compulsion on everyone around him. Some threats. And a binding contract written in blood that even he can’t wriggle out of.”
“Phoenix—” The name comes out impressed. Awed, even. “You stood up to him.”
“I stood up to him,” she confirms quietly. Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something vulnerable there. “I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my existence being his weapon.”
My chest tightens. “I’m so proud of you.”
She looks away quickly, but not before I see her throat work like she’s swallowing hard. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t be proud of me for doing what I should have done centuries ago.” Her voice is rough.
“Phoenix, we never talked about it, but I want to apologize for how I was back then—”
She holds up a hand. “Please don’t.”
“I wasn’t conscious enough of what you were dealing with. I should have thought more before I—”
“Layden.” My name on her tongue stops me. She so rarely uses it. “You were fine. Better than fine. You were...” She trails off, shakes her head. “If you’d stayed, Vlad would have found a way to use you against me. We both know it.”
The words land differently than I expected. Not as an accusation. More like... an explanation. Maybe even a regret.
“Like he did the second I came back,” I finish for her.
She nods, still not looking at me. “Yeah.”
The cold, familiar ache seeps into my chest, but it’s different this time. Because I get it now. She didn’t push me away because she didn’t care. She pushed me away because she did.
And now we’re both trapped in Vlad’s web again.
But this time we’re together.
“You tried to protect me,” I say quietly.
Her shoulders tense. “I tried to protect both of us.”
“Phoenix—”
“But here we are anyway.” Her laugh is bitter. “Married. Exactly what he wanted.”
“I know you always dreamed of going back to school,” I say, wanting to give her something. Anything. It let out a small whistle. “A Ph.D. in Ancient Religions. That’s wow. I’m so proud of you for making that happen.”
When I look at her, she’s turned away again. But I can see her back rise and fall like she’s trying to control her breathing.
“Phoenix?” I take a step forward. “You okay?”
“Fine.” But her voice comes out strangled. She moves toward the door, not quite stomping but close. “Let’s go. Breakfast will be ready, and if we’re late, Vlad will have something to say about it.”
She reaches for the doorknob, then pauses. But doesn’t turn around.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For not making this harder than it has to be.”
Before I can respond, she’s out the door.
I stand there alone in our wedding suite, still buttoning my shirt. Still hungry.
But maybe—just maybe—not quite as hopeless as I was yesterday.