Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
“All right.”
So much relief courses through me at those two small words, I sag against her beneath their weight.
“What do I do?” she asks softly.
“Nothing. Just sit back. I’ll do everything.
” I inch closer until I’m almost straddling her thighs.
My palms press against the sides of her damp neck.
Closing my eyes, I focus my power, directing its flow into my palms. It feels just as unnatural as the last time I did this—siphoning my power from my body.
It clings to my bones, and it takes conscious effort to will it to separate from me.
Carefully, ever so carefully, I channel a small amount into Mayah.
Her eyes snap open. I remove my hands.
“That should do it, I think.”
“I can feel it. Your power. It’s inside me. It’s—it’s mingling with my own.”
“Yeah. It’s only temporary, though. In another ten minutes, you should be able to heal yourself.”
“Will I be able to control lightning?”
I chuckle. “No. It’ll only strengthen your natural wielding affinity. Unless you’re secretly hiding stormwielding abilities.”
She snorts. “I’d be the realm’s worst stormwielder. Cowering from a storm I summoned myself.”
My face breaks into a wide grin. Not only at her joke, but at the utter relief of knowing she’s going to be all right.
We sit in silence, waiting. I trace my fingers along the inside of her arm, checking her pulse occasionally, though it’s just an excuse to keep touching her.
Ten minutes later, she calls to her power.
Thank the Skies, thank the fucking Skies, it responds. The pressure compressing my lungs eases at the sight of her glowing hands. She easily heals her wound, the inflammation fading away and skin knitting back together.
A relieved sigh escapes me, and I let myself lean against her. She angles herself toward me, setting her palms to my neck, channeling her power through me.
“Stop. Conserve your energy.”
She ignores me, flowing her power until my every aching muscle is soothed. When she’s done, she sits back and gives me a bright grin, and Lightning blind me, it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
“How much power did you give me?” she asks, rising and stretching her arms over her head. My relief increases tenfold at the sight of her healthy and mobile.
“Very little. It’s almost like a high at first. It’ll wear off soon and then…”
“We wait for me to try and ravish you?” She gives me a mocking smile.
“…Yes.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Let’s hope.”
We eat dinner quietly. Mayah is ravenous, her body demanding its due after days of barely eating. I’m glad I had the foresight to hunt four rabbits tonight.
Throughout the meal, though, her blue eyes linger longer and longer on me—my mouth, throat, chest. Her cheeks flush prettily when our gazes meet, teeth gnawing at her lower lip before she looks away. Her flush deepens.
It’s starting.
And she’ll only grow worse.
Wordlessly, I clean up the remnants of dinner—every tiny bone is picked clean, and a primal sort of satisfaction rumbles in my chest that she ate well. That I fed her well.
An acute awareness crackles down my spine. Wiping my greasy fingers on the grass, I slowly turn. Mayah is staring at me, full lips parted.
Staring is an understatement—she’s undressing me with her eyes.
“You all right there, Mayah?” I ask, fighting back a smile. My heart warms at her attention, even as my mind reminds me that it’s not real.
“Yeah,” she whispers. Her voice is low and breathy. It fucking caresses my skin. “Yeah, just a little warm.”
Just a little warm, my ass. What will I do when she tries to sleep with me?
Kneeling before her, I hand over our shared canteen. “Drink some water. You look flushed.”
Skies, there’s pure hunger in her eyes. For me. A heady rush of desire heats my blood, and my throat bobs as I swallow past the sudden dryness plaguing my mouth.
“I’m going to stay on that side of camp”—I point behind me—“and you’re going to stay right here. If we can do that, we’ll be fine.”
She downs the entire canteen. A drop of water escapes from her lips and drips a tantalizing path down her neck. My gaze lingers on the slant of her throat, her soft skin begging me to—
Skies damn me.
I don’t need any power shared with me—I’m already feral for her.
Distance.
We need distance. Grabbing my sword, I settle down across the camp and begin to sharpen it carefully, focusing on honing the blade with a whetstone.
I make the mistake of looking up.
Fucking Skies.
Mayah watches me with rapt attention, one hand cupping her breast, the other inching maddeningly between her thighs.
“Mayah.” My voice is rougher than the gravel lining the Arbinji courtyard. “Stop looking at me. Find something to keep yourself busy.”
She doesn’t listen. Instead, she fucking saunters toward me. My idiot eyes immediately drop to her swaying hips. Panic flares in my chest, hot and sudden. There is no possible way I can resist her.
“Mayah,” I bark her name, but it’s no use—her gaze just darkens, pupils blown wide. She looks like she wants to make a meal of me, and Skies have mercy, how I wish her feelings were real.
When she kneels before me like an offering, it’s a monumental effort not to push her to the ground and take her. My breathing is ragged just from looking at her, heart thrashing in my chest.
I need to control the situation.
Control myself.
“What are you doing?” I growl. I feel far too much like prey beneath her molten gaze.
“Keeping myself busy.” She plucks the sword from my hands and tosses it to the ground.
And then she’s in my lap.
I might die.
Soft thighs bracket my hips, teasing hands stroking my shoulders. She leans in, and I grab her upper arms, keeping her from wrapping around me.
This isn’t really her.
“Skies, Mayah, stop.”
“I’m aching, Zev.” Despite myself, my hands drop to her waist when she calls me Zev.
Zev. Like I belong to her.
“I want you. Please,” she keens, her beautiful face twisted with anguish. A faint sheen of sweat coats her forehead and neck. My tongue darts out, wetting my lower lip.
Skies have mercy.
I swear low under my breath, hands tightening around her waist. My eyes are riveted to her full lips, already parted for me. A few scant inches, and I could kiss her. Taste her.
But then she rolls her hips against mine, and it breaks the spell. What the fuck am I doing? I shove her off my lap with a frustrated growl.
“You’re not yourself. It’s my power inside you. This will wear off. Just go back. Over. There.”
She pouts, and my faithless eyes drop to her lips again before I manage to tear them away. I level a fierce glare at her, one that would have my generals trembling. It has no effect on her. Her pout deepens, but she trudges back to her side of camp.
With a shaky inhale, I grab the whetstone again. The rhythmic shriek of the blade echoes through the still night air.
Smooth, controlled motions until my breathing steadies.
When I chance a look at her again, my heart nearly stops. She’s removed her tunic, wearing only a white chemise, exposing creamy shoulders and the tops of her breasts.
“What are you doing?” I growl. My hand slips, just a sliver shy from the sharp edge of the blade.
“It’s hot.” Her voice is breathy and petulant and, Lightning strike me, why is her pout so tempting?
Her fingers curl beneath the hem of her chemise, and before I can register it, I’ve crossed the camp, hand clamping around her wrist in an iron-tight grip.
“Stop taking off your clothes,” I grit out. My heart violently pummels my ribcage. I might actually die tonight—the fearsome Dark Commander, felled by a heart attack.
She slides her free hand over my abdomen, up my chest, before cupping my face. “I thought you were going to stay on your side, Zev,” she whispers huskily.
I wrench away like she’s burned me.
“Mayah, please,” I groan.
I can’t do this. It’s inhumane.
“Please, Zev,” she moans. “It’s unbearable.”
I’m panting like a madman. I can’t think past the desire raging inside me. “Why don’t you lie down? Try to sleep. It’ll wear off in a few hours.”
She steps closer.
I step back.
“Or maybe I can go for a walk, and you can—”
Another step closer.
Another step back.
“You won’t help me?” Her voice drips with need.
There’s nothing I want more than to give in.
To have, to take, to claim after weeks of fighting against the tether that’s bound me to her.
After weeks of stealing glances when she isn’t looking, weeks of chasing her smile like a forlorn puppy, weeks of waking up achingly hard beside her every morning.
But I can’t. She’ll hate me. I’ll hate myself. Mayah doesn’t actually want me—this is just the aphrodisiac.
So I shake my head, raising my hands in case she attempts to coil around me again.
“Fine.” Her eyes brim with tears, but I can’t give in. I open my mouth to again suggest she satisfy herself when—
—she whirls and bolts into the woods.