Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Istill think it’s foolish,” Faramir drawls, leaning across the table. A little closer, and he’d be within punching range.
I’ve spent three days trapped in the council chambers with him, plotting and strategizing, gritting my teeth against his snide remarks. When he’d called Mayah a snowbitch earlier, thunder shattered the silence before he finished speaking.
“Letting those filthy Tundraynis set up another camp within our borders?” he sneers, eyes shining with malice. “Are you sure you’re on our side? Or did Mayah convince you to support Tundrayn with her pretty litt—”
“Faramir!” my father snaps. A vein pulses in his forehead. “Do not speak of your brother’s wife.” A flicker of surprise crackles in my chest. There’s something else, an emotion so foreign, especially toward him, that I don’t recognize it at first.
Gratitude.
My lips turn down at the realization.
“Suspicions or not, we are allied with Tundrayn,” my father continues, staring at the map with narrowed eyes.
“Tormik has sent two battalions of warriors. We need to better utilize them. And if you were actually listening to Jeyzar’s last update, you’d know he suspects we’ve located the main rebel camp.
Shifty bastards. It could be useful to have Tundrayn’s waterwielders when we’re ready to attack. ”
“Still,” Faramir sniffs. “An entire skiesdamned camp of Tundrayni warriors? Within a day’s ride from the palace?” He shrugs his shoulders, rolling his eyes. “But what do I know? When has my opinion been respected? I’m just the future king. Right, Father?” His left eye twitches.
My father cuts his gaze away, clearing his throat. “Right.”
A faint prickling sensation crawls up my spine—he’s lying, at least partly. I can’t question it without drawing attention to my truthwielding.
Perhaps I can bring it up again tomorrow to glean more information.
I’ve tolerated enough from these two for tonight, anyway.
With a grunt, I rise from the table, not bothering to excuse myself. Across from me, Faramir stands as well.
“You stay,” my father says to him.
“Oh, so he gets to leave meetings early to go fuck my—”
My teeth slam together louder than the door closing.
The hallways blur past me as I walk to our chambers, taking deep breaths to temper my anger at my vile brother before I see Mayah for the first time today.
Even as my anger slowly dissipates, agitation crackles through my veins—the Rebellion grows bolder. Stronger. It’s the only reason we’ve allowed Tundrayni warriors on Arbinji soil.
What if the rebels attack the palace? Perhaps I should show Mayah the secret tunnel entrance so she knows where to hide if I’m not with her.
With a curt nod to Gregoran and Freynk, I open the door to our chambers.
All thoughts flee my mind—Mayah sits on the sofa, clad in a sky-blue nightgown. And it’s ridden up to the middle of her thighs. The pale expanse of her creamy skin sets my heart racing.
I slowly rake my gaze over her, and it’s only then that I notice her hands are glowing.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning her for injuries I might’ve missed when my vision was clouded with desire.
She gestures to her legs, her face flushing. “I’m sore. From, um, standing.”
I suppress my smile. “My poor baby healer. Can’t handle a bite of soreness?”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the smile tugging at her full lips.
I stride to the washroom. “Don’t waste your reserves. I’ll be right out.” Scanning the shelves, I snag a bottle of rose oil. Mayah watches as I return and settle onto the sofa beside her, pulling her bare legs into my lap.
“Zev—” The soft pop of the bottle uncorking interrupts her.
“Relax,” I whisper, deepening my voice. A shiver runs through her. “Let me take care of you.”
I warm the oil in my hands before gliding them up her calves, gently massaging her muscles. A sweet moan bursts free as she presses her thighs together tightly.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is breathy and low, and Skies damn me, the things I want to do to her.
“Easing your aches.” A broad grin unfurls across my lips. She’s coming undone in my hands, and I fucking love it. “You don’t have to fix everything with your power. Some of our backwards methods are effective, too.”
I wink at her, and her lips part, eyes hooded.
I knead firm circles into her legs, slowly working my way higher.
Higher.
Her skin is soft and smooth beneath my hands, but I’m riveted to her face. Her pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
“I don’t think your methods are backwards.” A sharp gasp escapes her as my fingers find a tight knot in her calf.
Her teeth settle into her lower lip.
“No?” My hands slide up to her knees.
She doesn’t stop me.
Mayah swallows again. “Any updates on the Rebellion?”
I hum, my fingers still moving over her skin. “They’ve taken more land on the Arbinj side.”
My hands skate higher still, caressing the soft skin of her upper thighs. Her breath catches. I’ve nearly reached the hem of her nightgown.
“What about—what about Tundrayn,” she asks, her voice unsteady. “My father—is he sending aid?”
“Two battalions to the border and a promise for another. Which was more than I expected. I don’t think he wants to risk losing you.”
Except you’re not his anymore. You’re mine, Mayah.
I nearly tell her about the new camp of Tundrayni warriors within a day’s ride, but the words won’t pass my lips. Would she want to visit the camp? And if they return to Tundrayn, what if she wishes to return with them? I swallow down the words, selfish bastard that I am.
I stroke higher, and she clenches her thighs, but my hands are already between them, massaging her legs, toying with the lace lining the hem of her nightgown.
“Any other aches I can help you with, wife?” I rumble.
She wants to say yes. It’s clear on her face—the desire darkening her eyes, the pink flush across her chest.
Instead, she whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”
I know what she means, but I raise my brow anyway.
“To sleep!” she stammers. “Just—to sleep.”
She bolts from the sofa and practically dives beneath the covers. I chuckle lightly, following her. There’s only a foot of distance between us. I want nothing more than to lay her out on the bed and feast on her.
What would she taste like?
What sounds would she make?
It takes hours before I fall asleep.
Slick skin beneath my palms, smooth against my calluses.
Rose petals scattered beneath us, the rising sun painting her skin in glowing shades of pink.
My hands glide higher. Blue eyes snap to mine, mouth parted. Her tongue darts out, traces her lower lip, and I lose another bit of my sanity.
Her thighs part—slowly, ever so slowly.
I don’t dare draw a breath. Just watch this gorgeous woman open herself to me.
“Please, Zev,” she whimpers, each syllable drenched with aching need.
I exhale shakily. My fingers find her ankle, lifting her leg so I can kiss the inside of her knee. Then, the other.
She moans, a broken needy sound, and it snaps the last of my fraying restraint.
Nestling between her thighs, rose petals slicked against my bare chest, I—
My eyes blink open.
By the Skies. I’m so hard, it’s painful. I overslept again.
Mayah lies on her side with her back facing me and—Lightning strike me.
Judging by the way her arm is moving—she’s … taking care of her needs. Her energy signature pulses in time with her shallow breaths.
Her back arches. The sweetest, quietest moan drifts to my ears. I bite into my fist to stifle my ragged groan, but she freezes anyway.
“What are you doing, wife?” I ask, my voice cracked with need.
I know exactly what she’s doing. I want to hear her say it.
She doesn’t answer. Rising up onto my elbow, I glance over her shoulder. A low growl vibrates in my chest when I catch sight of her small hand nestled between her thighs. My mouth is dry, every muscle pulled tight with restraint. I’m seconds from pinning her beneath me.
“Do you want me to leave?” I grit out instead, forcing the words past my reluctant lips.
The longest pause of my life.
“No,” she murmurs. Her wrist flexes. My breath catches.
“Fucking Skies,” I mutter.
She’s going to be the death of me.
I’m just a man. A selfish, weak man. Because I ask, “Then, do you want a hand, Mayah?”
Her breath escapes in rapid pants. Slowly, carefully, giving her ample time to stop me, I press my hand over the soft silk covering her belly. “Yes, Mayah?”
I was wrong before. This is the longest pause of my life.
“Yes,” she finally breathes.
The air around us crackles with my intent.
“Tell me if you change your mind.”
And then I can’t wait any longer. My hand covers her smaller one, and we move together for scant heartbeats before I nudge her fingers aside and greedily claim her all for myself.
I groan into her hair, moving my fingers. My poor girl was already so wound up, she shudders against me in mere minutes, her soft moans filling the room, back rigid against me.
It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
I need more.
Her pretty blue eyes are wide as I roll her onto her back, settling my weight over her. She arches into me as I set open-mouthed kisses to her throat, head thrown back, hands gripping my shoulders, full lips parted on a moan.
“Skies, I’ve dreamed of this,” I breathe.
“You—just like this.” My fingers rake firm patterns down her side until she’s quivering in my arms, the thin straps of her nightgown slipping down her shoulders.
“I’ve been starving for you, Mayah. All these months.
Right beside me, yet painfully out of my reach.
” My teeth find her earlobe, nipping at her soft skin.
“I need to taste you, baby. If that’s not what you want, you need to tell me to stop. Now.”
Our gazes lock, her fingers curling in my hair. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire.
“Don’t stop.”
Thank the fucking Skies.