Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I mproving my connection to pack unity over the weeks leading up to the Purge Trial is like being told to carry a weight in one of my hands and to never let it drop. Sometimes, I can forget about it. Other times, I have to adjust how I do something to make room for it.
And always, it’s exhausting.
Every training exercise we run, every time I need to prove my ability to hold the connection, I end up with a blistering headache.
But then training stops, and I can breathe again, and in those moments between: there’s Killian.
At night, I make my excuses to my friends, and I seek him out—in his quarters, or in mine. I’ve gotten used to the path to his rooms; I’ve never strayed off of it again, or found that strange carving, and I try to ignore the possibility that I hallucinated it entirely.
Time slips right through my fingers, and then somehow, the Purge is upon us.
The night before the Trial, the common lounge may as well be hosting a wake. All the Rawbonds, myself included, sense tomorrow’s Purge like a threatening blizzard on the horizon.
We can look away from it, but that won’t stop it coming. Tomorrow, some of us will die.
No one is drinking. No one would, too worried that a hangover might compromise their performance. A drink to take the edge off tonight isn’t worth risking your life tomorrow.
The sobriety in the air after so many jovial nights here is, frankly, depressing. Instead of drinking, people are trying to distract themselves in other ways—card games, or reading. Small groups gather and chat, Tomison at the center of one of the most boisterous circles.
He’s cracking incessant jokes, as is his signature, but he’s even louder than usual. I’m sitting with Venna and Izabel on a couch, all of us with books open in our laps. Izabel keeps looking up from hers and sighing loudly, shooting Tomison irritated looks. He doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care.
Venna slams her book shut. “I can’t read with you so tightly wound next to me,” she huffs at Izabel.
“Well, I can’t read with all the noise in here,” Izabel snaps, glowering at Tomison again. She turns to me. “Distract me, Meryn. What are you going to do with your mother on your day off?”
The day after the Purge Trial, the Rawbonds have the day off and everyone will be going home to visit their families in the Bonded City… so of course, I’ll head home, too.
“Assuming I’m still here,” I mutter.
Venna didn’t catch that and Izabel interprets for her. Her eyes widen and she smacks me in the arm. “Positive attitude!”
I shoot her a guilty grin. She’s right. Normally, my problem is over -confidence and stubbornness. But there are so many unknowns about tomorrow that even I’m finding myself shaken to the core. And I keep glancing around at all the other Strategos Rawbonds, weighing their strengths against my own.
And wondering if it will be enough.
“It will be enough,” Anassa growls in my head.
Of course she’d think that; she doesn’t want to die, either.
I ignore my direwolf and finally respond to Izabel. “We probably will just stay at home and catch up. I have a little farther to go than you all, so I won’t have a ton of time. When do we have to be back at the castle, again?”
“Sundown,” Izabel says.
Our day off is followed that evening by the Forging Ball, a big celebration to mark the halfway point of the Trials. The king and nobles from all the other fiefdoms will be in attendance.
My gaze drifts across the room again, wondering who will be missing from our pack that evening, if not me.
Nevah’s sitting alone, as usual, obsessively sharpening her blade with slow, grinding shrieks of metal on whetstone. She won’t take her eyes off of it. She’s a possibility; she’s continued to resist making friends in the pack, still clearly in mourning.
Perielle is subdued, curled up next to Jonah and watching Nevah’s repetitive motions. Probably not her; she’s divisive, but she inspires fear and the pack members may be too afraid to go against her.
Neither Jonah nor Perielle has their usual outgoing viciousness about them tonight. They’ve retreated into each other, hiding like the rest of us. Preparing.
Her eyes meet mine, and I tense instinctively. I’m too on edge. The other Rawbonds are assessing me the same way I am them. Unspoken questions hiss in the air.
Who’s stronger? Who’s faster? Who’s smarter? Who will be dead this time tomorrow?
Roddert’s cards slip from his grip and scatter in a messy flutter to the floor, and three different Rawbonds instantly reach for their weapons; everyone is so tense. He awkwardly bends to gather them up again.
It hits me. Hard. I could die tomorrow without having told Killian that I love him again, that my heart’s found a way back.
Weeks have passed, and I haven’t summoned the courage. The words just get stuck in my throat. I’m afraid, I think.
But right now, the fear of death is even louder, thundering in my ears like a direwolf’s howl.
What’s a little emotional honesty next to blood in the sand?
“I need to breathe,” I tell the twins, thudding my book shut, standing, and tossing it into my seat behind me.
Izabel doesn’t say anything. She settles for a muffled grunt of affirmation. Venna’s fingertips brush against my wrist as I leave them there, a gentle indication of concern and reassurance.
The entire walk to his quarters, I try to figure out how to go about this.
Hey, Killian, I’m maybe probably going to die tomorrow, so …
“I need privacy now,” I tell Anassa. We’ve gotten better at this part. She’s stopped shutting me out in anger and I’ve started communicating when I’m going to alter our connection.
She huffs. She’s still not thrilled that I’m partitioning off part of my mind from her, but she accepts it—for now. I won’t have to worry about her going incommunicado on me during the Purge Trial tomorrow, or actively trying to get me killed.
I can tell that she thinks I’ll get used to her over time, that I’ll stop being so modest. We’ll see about that.
Reaching for the mental barrier, I pull down the wall but leave it porous. Some feelings will reach her. If I’m in danger, she’ll know. But my immediate thoughts and subtler emotions will stay with me.
From inside the tunnel, I push the door open without knocking. Killian is at his desk, reviewing documents.
He’s silhouetted by moonlight streaming through the tall window behind him. It makes his hair look silver-gold. When he hears the door, his head snaps up in surprise. But when he sees me, his muscles relax instantly, and he melts back into his chair.
Killian says nothing as I stride towards his desk. I round it and reach for him. The floorboards creak slightly beneath my feet. The legs of his chair scrape over the rug as he makes room for me.
He welcomes me close wordlessly. I fold myself into his arms, straddling his lap, wedged between his warm body and the edge of his desk.
We watch each other for a long moment. His hand strokes up and down my back. I lean a little closer. His fingers snag on my shirt, and his touch finds its way under the hem on its next pass. I shiver at the slide of skin on skin, and he clearly notices.
Killian’s pupils widen in the moonlight. His lips press together, and his eyes ease from mine and down to my mouth.
“I love you,” I tell him. The words crackle through the silence like ice straining under heavy weight.
No explanation. Nothing else. We don’t need it.
“I know,” he says softly. He pulls me closer until my hips are pressed close, until his heat spread between my legs. “I love you, too. Even if you’d never come back to me, I would have kept on loving you.”
I shut my eyes briefly, tilting forward to press my forehead against his. The smell of pine fills my nose. His breath is on my cheek. His heart beats steady beneath my palm.
This, right now, feels inevitable. I can sense the waiting clash already gathering speed, sinking low.
“I’d tell everyone tomorrow, if you’d let me,” he says seriously, his deep blue eyes locking onto mine.
I stroke my fingers over his cheek and the slight rasp of his evening stubble. “The king doesn’t have some noble bride picked out for you already?”
Killian’s hands close around my thighs. Hard.
“You’re mine,” he growls. “I don’t need anyone’s permission for that other than yours.” His teeth nip at my jaw and heat thrums through me, making my nipples tighten.
I pull back, though. “Seriously,” I say, needing to know where this is going. “What would he say? What would the court think?”
His eyes soften. “He already knows I’m seeing a Rawbond and that it’s serious. He has no objections. I alone choose who I love.”
Killian’s hands slip up to my hips, squeezing almost rhythmically. It’s tricking my body into painfully vivid awareness. I can feel the muscle of his thighs beneath me. I can sense each fingertip digging into my flesh.
My hips rock without my telling them to, seeking friction, and he lets out a low, brief groan before he can master it.
“Kitten,” he murmurs, “give me permission to claim you in front of the whole world, and I will.”
I’m awash in it, swept out to sea. His eyes find mine again, and I’m drowning in blue. The enormity of what he’s offering is overwhelming.
But I can’t deal with it right now. I just need to breathe. I need him to carry me away from here. Death is on the horizon, and it’s a patient hunter.
I don’t say yes. I don’t say no.
Instead, I say, “If I die tomorrow, find Saela for me. Get her to safety.”
Killian’s grip on me tightens like his touch alone can keep me safe, but he says, “I swear it, Meryn.”
Gratitude and desperation and fear and love swirl together and drag me under. He pulls me to him right as I lean in.
It’s a rough, almost painful kiss, both of us grabbing at each in desperation. I nip his lip and he bites right back and I moan, pushing myself closer to him, grabbing at his clothes.
I need this, need him.
He lowers his head and starts kissing my neck, slowing us down. He weaves his fingers into my short hair and pulls my head back, making room for worship. My breath shudders. I grip his shoulders tightly as pleasure drips from his lips and down to my depths.
The sudden change in pace calms me. I sink into it, forgetting the desperation and turning toward something more. Something that’ll last.
Something that defies the dawn.
Killian leans back in his chair. His hair is mussed. His lips are swollen. His hands close around my ass as his glassy eyes move over me.
“Strip,” he orders.
I swallow, and my throat clicks. My tongue darts over my lips, which still throb from the rough attention.
He sees it and his gaze ignites. “ Now , kitten.”
I scramble from his lap. Killian leans forward and slowly rolls his shirt up to his elbows as he watches me drag my jacket from my shoulders. While I unbutton my shirt, he rests his elbows on his knees, his forearms flexing as he clenches his hands into fists.
My gaze darts quickly lower. He’s already clearly hard beneath his clothes. I wonder if he’s barely holding himself back. When I’m bare from the waist up, I don’t have to wonder any longer.
Killian lets out another rumbling sound and grinds his hand over himself through his pants. The sight of it pools between my legs. When I guide my underthings from my hips, they’re already embarrassingly wet.
Killian reaches out and sweeps his hand across his desk, crumpling papers and scattering objects. A few clatter to the ground or thud against the rug.
“Sit,” he orders.
Stepping out of the pile of my clothes, I glide towards him. Slowly. Daintily. I love this feeling. When he looks at me like this, I’m delicate. I get to be delicate. To be breakable without risking a fracture.
The desk is cool against my skin when I ease myself up. It’s going to be a mess when I’m done with it.
I wait patiently, but Killian doesn’t move. He sits in his chair like it’s a throne, eyes moving over me. Torture, really, when there’s already a deep throb between my legs in anticipation.
I bite my lip and spread my legs further. His eyes snap down. When my fingers dust over my need, he lets out a muffled groan and wipes his hand over his mouth.
“Touch yourself,” he growls, nodding.
And I do. And it’s profoundly unsatisfying. I like the feeling of his eyes on me. I like that he looks like he’s about to snap into pieces. I hate that he isn’t taking me.
I want to forget what tomorrow brings. I want him to overwhelm me. Help me forget.
Still, I start to tremble soon enough. Sweat prickles at my forehead. Killian rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily through his nose.
The beginnings of a gentle orgasm trickles through me. My thighs tingle and clench slightly, and I let out a low moan. That’s what finally does him in.
Killian snaps forward, suddenly on his feet, hands gripping my thighs and spreading them to aching. The moan I let out is even louder this time. His clothed hips grind against me, replacing the stroke of my fingers, and my back arches.
Killian tilts me forcefully until I thud back against his desk. I look up at him, lingering on the edge as he looms over me. Then his hand cups me, a couple fingers slipping into my wetness. I cry out and try to pull him closer with my legs.
“Close your eyes, kitten,” he says.
I whimper and shake my head. The sight of his eyes glazed over by lust is too precious to surrender. But he removes his hand to punish me.
“Now, Meryn. You want to. I know you do.”
I bite my lip. My hips ease forward, but he pins them to his desk to stop my searching grind. “I…”
Killian slowly smiles. “Shut your eyes, kitten. I’m going to take care of you.”
Surrender, I realize. That’s right. I exhale shakily and let my eyes flutter closed. The moment I do, his praise showers over me like kisses. I shiver and groan as his hands streak over my thighs. He leans over me, I can hear it in the creak of the floorboards.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my skin. And his mouth closes over my nipple.
I whimper and clutch his hair, holding him to me as his tongue circles around me. His hips fall between mine again. The delicious scrape of his rough clothes over the insides of my thighs starts to sink deep into my flesh.
It does something to me, knowing he’s fully dressed while I’m naked and spread open on his desk, eyes closed and at his mercy.
“Keep them closed no matter what, Meryn,” Killian warns.
“Y-Yeah,” I rasp, struck by wave after wave of shivers.
His hands streak down over my sides. Then, with a rush of cold air, he’s gone. I whimper in protest, reaching for him in the dark. I can’t open my eyes. Right now, there’s only darkness and his touch.
“Killian,” I beg.
A low chuckle strikes me at my core. I clench at the sound of it. One of my hands moves to my chest, massaging my breast, pinching my own nipple between my fingers. The absence of him, the bonfire of need, obliterates what was left of my fear. The rest of the world drops away.
All that remains is anticipation.
Where will he touch me when he comes back?
Right where I need him, is the answer. He must’ve kneeled before the desk, because his hot tongue streaks suddenly between my legs.
I immediately cry out, the sound of my pleasure mingling with the groan he lets out when he tastes me. Sensation pulses through me with the thrust of his tongue.
One of his hands moves over the inside of my thigh. The other is a ghost, lost in the dark, until I feel two fingers join his tongue. He skims them along the outside of my lips.
The quiet orgasm I felt gathering earlier changes into something else altogether.
His tongue dips deep, then finds my clit. He sucks, and a scream gathers in my throat. Then those two fingers slip into me and curl, starting to fuck me, striking me from inside, and the scream rips free.
I come apart right there on his desk, eyes obediently closed. There’s nothing but pleasure. Nothing but him and the promise in his touch radiating through me.
He falls still while my muscles remain tight and torturous for a devastatingly long period. Then when I start to ease back down, his fingers make a filthy noise inside me and his tongue strokes slowly, drawing it out.
I moan and streak my fingers through his hair affectionately. But he slips from my grasp again. I hear the sound of his pants unbuttoning and before I can even say his name, he sinks inside of me, his cock thick and hot as it fills me.
My eyes snap open. The breath rushes from me. My shaky hands reach for him, finding purchase on his wrists where he’s gripping my hips.
He grins. “Meryn,” he growls. Almost like a taunt.
I choke and something like crazed laughter bursts from my chest. My orgasm is still pulsing through me, tingling over my skin, making everything more intense.
Killian doesn’t wait. He starts to thrust fast and deep, the stretch of accommodating him dizzying me. Fuck, the sight of him moving in me, leaned over me and reaching for pleasure, is pushing me higher.
I moan again and pull at him. He grunts and removes one hand from my hip, taking hold of my arm and yanking me upright and against his chest.
The shift in position makes him brush up against my clit with every thrust, and my lingering orgasm starts ramping up again. The pleasure never really stopped. It just quieted for a moment. But a new wave is about to crash over the first as it retreats.
“Fuck. F-fuck!” I choke out.
The desk scrapes over the floor from the force of it, sending more objects clattering. I’m raw and full. Climax is closing in on me, even faster than the first.
“I’ll claim you right now, Meryn,” he rasps, the words interrupted by the curling of his muscles as he buries himself inside of me. “You’re all mine,” he hisses as his hips maintain their merciless pace.
“I love you,” I whimper, nodding. My body rolls against his, meeting every thrust of his hips with my own. Trying to pull him deeper. Trying to reach that screamingly silent place again, where there’s nothing but Killian’s body tangled with mine.
“I want you to come around me, kitten,” he says. I nod weakly, too distracted by the sight of our bodies moving. But he lets out a discontent sound and closes his hand around my throat, placing gentle pressure on the sides and forcing me to look into his eyes. “Let go. Now .”
It happens instantly. Everything inside of me tightens. My mouth falls open, but the scream is silent this time. I don’t have the breath for it.
Satisfaction floods Killian’s gaze as I start to feather around him and contort, clenching into a vise-like grip. He shudders in response. The snap of his hips as he takes advantage of my tightness feels like praise. He’s wild inside of me for a few more thrusts. Unleashed.
And then comes the rush of hot warmth, the spill of him. His muscles tighten beneath his clothes as he sinks as deep as he can.
Claim me, he said. I cling to his shoulders because if I don’t, I’ll dissolve into sweat and satisfaction.
We fall still save for the heaving of our chests. There’s an ache in my body from the roughness of it. I love it. My hands smooth over his shoulders and up to his neck, into his hair.
“Killian,” I breathe. There’s a dumb smile on my face when he lifts his head.
He soon mirrors it. “Fuck,” he rasps, and I laugh.
But when the levity fades, his smile falls. “I…” His brow knits. “Meryn, tomorrow you?—”
I press my thumb over his lips. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
He doesn’t believe me. Can’t. But he still gingerly picks me up off of his desk. I wrap my legs around his hips and let him carry me to his bed. “I’m not done with you yet. I can’t be,” he whispers against my bare shoulder.
I kiss his neck and nod. “Okay.”
“Once more, and I’ll let you sleep,” he promises.
I guide his face up and kiss him slowly. “Once more,” I agree.
“Well,” he smiles quietly, “maybe two, for you.”
I grin as he tosses me onto his bed. Afterward, I fall asleep quickly, listening to his heartbeat beneath my ear. It’s a dreamless sleep that takes me, quieted by the weight of his arm across me and the exhaustion from such good sex.
A scream echoes in my ears, jolting me awake.
I think, at first, that it isn’t real.
Maybe it’s my failure coming back to haunt me, the shriek that I didn’t hear that night when I should’ve been there to protect Saela.
Glancing around the dark room in terror, my heart slams through my body. My surroundings return to me as sleep falls away.
There’s a push against the barrier in my mind; Anassa’s been woken by my fear. I push back, letting her know I’m safe.
Killian is dead asleep, breathing slowly. “Hey,” I beg, jostling him.
He grunts and peels his eyes open. His hair is wild and his lids are heavy. “What? Meryn?”
“Did you hear that?” I demand. It echoed through the halls. It sounded too real, too close.
Killian blinks slowly at me. “Hear what?” he asks, sleep crackling in his voice.
“There was a?—”
Another scream shrieks through my bones. I flinch, and goosebumps streak over my bare skin.
Horrifyingly, Killian doesn’t even slightly react. He sits up, concern pulling him towards wakefulness. But his attention is entirely on me, not towards the door where the sound came from.
“Meryn? Talk to me.”
I’m shivering as his hands close around my shoulders. The realization hits me like icy water. It wasn’t real. He didn’t hear it. None of it was real. Not the voices my mother hears. Not the blood I saw during training. Not this.
“I thought I heard something,” I explain weakly.
Killian’s shoulders relax. He misunderstands my fear. “If someone finds you here, I’ll protect you. I’ll keep it from getting out, if you still want that.”
I swallow and let myself fall back against the plush pillows. He settles in beside me. “Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t tell him that I don’t think he’ll be able to protect me. Not from this.
“Sleep. You need your strength,” he breathes, already giving himself back over to his dreams.
I curl closer to him. Close enough that I can almost convince myself that the horror of tomorrow won’t reach me. That the horror of the rest of my life won’t, either.
Because there’s a terrible truth reverberating in my skull alongside the phantom screams.
Even if I survive the Purge, that won’t keep me from following my mother into madness.