Chapter 53 #3
"Rìan..." My voice cracked. "It was nothing."
He whirled on me so suddenly that I lost my footing. His hand shot out to catch me.
"Nothing?" The single word reverberated through the room.
Before I could recover, he had me against the wall. One hand slammed beside my head, caging me in as he bent down until only inches separated us.
My heart stuttered. I'd never seen him like this.
"He forced himself on you." Every word was bitten off through clenched teeth. "His magic touched yours. And you would call that nothing?"
"Let me go." I tried to keep the tremor from my voice and failed.
"It's vile." He said, thick with fury. "It's unforgivable."
"I said let me go!" My own temper flared. The bone knife flashed between us, its point rising to the soft place beneath his jaw.
His pulse thundered beneath the blade.
"Why?" he demanded, the cords standing out in his neck. "Why would you think what he did to you was nothing?"
“It…” I fumbled for the words. “Aedric, he… he…”
I couldn't finish the sentence. Shock flashed across Rìan's features before they hardened with a fresh wave of rage. Heat flooded my face, so fierce it felt as though my skin might split beneath it, tears stinging suddenly behind my eyes.
It had felt wrong when Thalassis had done it. But it had felt wrong when Aedric had done it, too.
Because it had been wrong.
He’d violated me.
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to smother the sob rising in my throat. My hand shook so violently that the point of the bone knife wavered uselessly between us.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I braced for his temper—for the violence that lived beneath his control, for the eruption I was certain would come now that he knew.
Instead…
Warm fingers closed around mine.
His hand was startlingly gentle, impossibly steady against the wild tremor of my own. Slowly—carefully—he coaxed my fingers from the hilt until the knife slipped free.
I opened my eyes.
The storm was still there, burning behind the silver of his gaze, but I watched him force it down, inch by agonizing inch.
He stepped closer, knife in hand. Instinct made me flinch, pressing my back harder against the wall. Every muscle in my body tensed.
Without breaking eye contact, he turned the blade toward the floor. Slowly, he began to lower it. Every nerve beneath my skin flared to life.
The cold edge never touched me, yet I felt it all the same as he guided it down the length of my body. My breath stuttered when it reached my hip.
His wrist slipped beneath the hem of the shirt—his shirt—the fabric riding up to expose another inch of skin.
His eyes remained locked on mine as the knife descended slowly along the outside of my leg.
His knuckles grazed my thigh, so lightly the touch might have been accidental.
It drew a helpless whimper from my lips.
Shhk.
The bone knife slid smoothly into its sheath.
Then, with the same exact care, he withdrew his hand. The fabric settled softly back against my thigh.
My heart pounded so violently I was certain he could hear it.
His palm returned to the wall beside my head. He searched my face with relentless intensity, his brows drawn tightly together. He was unbearably close. Close enough to count the dark lashes framing those impossible silver-flecked eyes.
“Eidra,” he murmured at last. “No one is allowed to touch you like that.” His voice was gentle but firm, each word deliberate. “No one. Not unless you want them to.”
My vision blurred.
"Not even him."
He held my gaze. "Do you understand me?"
I nodded. I couldn't have looked away if I'd wanted to. His presence wrapped around me without ever touching me, his warmth enfolding me, the familiar scent of leather and wild wind invading my senses, yet he never crossed that final, impossible distance.
Our breaths mingled in the space between us, the silence stretching until it became something excruciating, the bond pulling taut as a drawn bowstring. His jaw flexed as he bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to make the muscle jump.
Then, with visible effort, he stepped back.
The sudden distance felt colder than it should have. He turned away so abruptly it was almost jarring.
"Get dressed."
I let out a shaky breath, my head swimming.
"Did..." My voice cracked. I swallowed before trying again. "Did you find it?"
He stood with his back to me for a long moment, silent. Finally, he answered. "Yes." The single word sounded strained, as though he'd had to wrench it from his chest.
"Good," I whispered.
He gave the smallest nod, almost to himself.
"I'll be ready in a few minutes." I crossed toward the bedroom.
As I passed him, I felt his gaze settle on me—heavy enough to set my pulse quickening beneath my skin. I fought the overwhelming urge to turn back.
I didn't dare.
I slipped into the bedroom and eased the door shut behind me.
The latch clicked.
The moment it did, every ounce of strength left my body.
I sagged against the wood, pressing my forehead into my trembling hands and struggled to steady my breathing.