Chapter 14
AERIN
Aerin leads Malice to a small bakery near the beach where she orders double her regular and sits down at a table on the patio. She gestures for Malice to join her. He does a thorough sweep of the area and turns his chair to face backwards to accommodate his wings before sitting down.
Folding his arms over the top of the iron chair he narrows his blue eyes at her.
“Is this you conceding?”
Aerin considers the question.
She’s still livid. At her father for taking even more freedom from her. At her brother for his betrayal. At her blood for making her a Tolvare at all.
And she’s furious with Malice, too. Not for his actions, but for what he represents: the lock on her gilded cage. The loss of even the illusion of freedom. But as much as these two weeks have been a punishment for Malice, they’ve also been a test.
Malice is damn-good at tracking Aerin down. And if Aerin can’t escape him, well, she’ll have to ensure his loyalties lie with her.
“I never concede,” Aerin informs him, leaning back in her chair. “And I still don’t trust you.”
The Fae server places various plates and two coffees down between them. Malice raises his eyebrows but says nothing as he unwraps his fork. Aerin digs in immediately. The food here is always delicious, and Aerin moans around her first bite.
Malice’s knuckles go white around his fork, nostrils flaring.
Aerin smirks, spinning her fork. His desire for her is so obvious, even when he does everything he can to hide it from her.
She continues to shovel in food, allowing them to eat in silence. When most of her meal is gone, the Dragon-Fae finally speaks again.
“I didn’t choose to be here,” Malice grumbles, like Aerin drug it out of him with her silence.
“So then go,” Aerin says through a mouthful of food. Malice grimaces at her manners, eyeing her full fork dubiously.
“I can’t,” he sighs, placing his fork down and pushing the plate away from him. “And that wouldn’t solve your problem anyways.”
“Since when do you care about my problems?” Aerin asks, scooping a bite of food from his plate now that hers has been emptied.
“I don’t,” Malice snaps, voice hard.
“But?”
“No ‘but’. I’m stuck in this just as much as you are.”
Aerin scoffs, dropping her fork with a clatter. “You don’t know anything about me,” she accuses.
Malice leans closer. “Because you refuse to tell me anything,” he growls over the table.
She leans forward too, drawn towards his fire. “I said I don’t trust you,” Aerin snipes right back.
“You can trust me,” Malice says softly, straightening up in his chair, pulling away from her.
It’s a stupid thing to say, really, but it sets Aerin up so nicely.
“Prove it,” she demands, arms folding over her chest as she too leans away, resting back against her chair.
Malice narrows his eyes. “How?”
“Bond with me.”
She watches as the color all but drains from Malice’s tanned skin. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again.
“You’re insane,” is what he finally comes up with.
Aerin expects his resistance. Becoming bonded-mates is uncommon for a reason: binding means sacrificing individual magic.
It’s almost never done, and when it is, it’s viewed as a grave mistake.
But Aerin needs to be able to trust him, and nothing ties two creatures together like becoming bonded-mates.
More than a partner or a friend, they become part of one another—wholly intertwined.
Malice scrubs his face with his hands, resting his elbows atop the chairback.
“Dragon-Fae don’t have bond-mates,” he says through his teeth.
Aerin doesn’t let her shock show, keeping her face neutral.
All Fae are supposed to have bond-mates.
They’re social creatures by nature, and the Fates weave bond-mates into Fae paths.
At least, that’s what the fanatics believe.
Aerin doesn’t much believe in the Fates.
But she knows bond-mates are real. Is he lying?
Or is this one of the Dragon-Fae’s well-kept secrets?
“All the better, then I won’t have a Core to explain myself to when you bind to me.” Aerin shrugs a shoulder.
“You can’t bond to someone who isn’t your bond-mate. Dragon-Fae don’t have bond-mates, ergo—”
“Don’t ‘ergo’ me,” Aerin snaps, cutting him off. “You don’t need to be bond-mates for a blood-bond.”
If Aerin thought Malice looked pale before, he appears downright nauseous now.
Blood-bonds are rare, an old magic that faded into obscurity when Altrios fell.
Similar to Aerin’s blood-contract with her father this bond would require blood, intent, and Witch magic to form, and once formed, could be finicky, dangerous, unpredictable.
“Where the hell did you learn about blood-bonds?” Malice asks, shaking his head. “You know what, I actually don’t want to know. The answer is no, Aerin. And you’re ridiculous for even asking.”
Aerin’s memories take her to another Fae, a different rejection. The pain pulsing in her chest feels a hell of a lot like anger. She shoves back from the table, her chair clattering to the floor, causing the creatures around her to turn, look, whisper.
“Aerin—” there’s apology in his voice.
Her voice is vicious and cold when she says, “Don’t follow me.”