Chapter 29
“You should sit,” Blake said, gesturing to the wooden chair. “Let me look at your head.”
I didn’t move.
The soft image of him here was too sharp a contrast to the man I’d known on the training ground. It was difficult for my brain to reconcile the two.
Maybe he was all shades of gray and less black and white. Maybe he was yin and yang and balance—maybe he was both.
Was the real Blake Axefire actually the man in the moonlight I’d met only once?
“You have questions.”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes.
Blake grinned slightly, and even that felt strange. “Come and sit, Rubi. Let me tend your wounds and I’ll answer everything.”
Reluctantly, I sat and slipped my arms out onto the table. The gashes from the claws of the demon and the few slices from my mishandling the whip were starting to hurt.
He pulled over one of the other chairs, sitting just in front of me and spreading his muscled thighs, using a hand to pull my chair closer so I was nearly between his legs. It made heat roar against my cheeks.
Ice blue eyes met mine as he took one arm gently in his grip and examined it. “Unpredictable forgefool, brave woman,” he muttered almost to himself. He dipped a cloth in one of the salves and began to work carefully on each wound.
“You’re the Ravager.”
“I am.”
I nodded, chewing lightly on my lip. It felt difficult, talking about this with him this close, all intimidating size and intensity while he tenderly swiped a cloth over my skin.
“Why do you serve the king as his Ambush Master and his enforcer when you’re secretly fighting to bring him down?”
Blake let out a short, hard breath. When he spoke, his voice was rough.
“As Ambush Master, one of the Twin Blades of the king, I have access to insider knowledge the rebellion needs. Sometimes, I can save lives.” His mouth twisted.
“Other times, I’m the one ordered to kill them when I fail.
It is difficult.” He paused, the words catching.
“There have been many times I’ve had to execute my own, people who trusted me as the Ravager. ”
For a brief moment, the anguish he usually kept hidden broke across his face.
“But you don’t want to,” I said.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m always calculating: Can I spare this person? Is the risk worth it? Do I save more lives than I take?” He paused his cleaning, breathing deeply. “And it always leads to the same rusted question: Why do I still live when so many have died? And at my hands.”
A huff then, frustration at himself. At everything, it seemed.
The ache in my chest grew sharper.
Unable to stop myself, I put my free hand atop his on my skin. He was cold, the strain in him vibrating under my palm.
“You’re still here because you’re needed,” I said quietly. “You’re the leader of the Tyger Warriors and the head of the rebel forces. Without you, many more would have died. Without you, many would have no hope for their future at all.”
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his fingers turned, gripping mine hard.
“It wasn’t us, you know. Tonight.”
I hadn’t thought so when I realized who exactly Blake was.
“Someone set us up to take the fall—the men we found with rebel bands on were king’s soldiers.” He shook his head again before releasing me and pulling away, gathering more of the materials his sister left for us.
“They’ve destroyed any trust the people had in us. All our progress—”
“I’m sorry, Blake,” I offered quietly. “But you can rebuild.”
His jaw clenched. “Maybe.”
The quiet grew as he finished my other arm.
“Let me check your head—”
I cut him off. “I’m fine. Let me look at you.” Small patches of blood were seeping through his tunic, dark against the fabric. “You’re bleeding. Take off your shirt.”
He smirked. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.”
“Funny, Axefire,” I snipped.
Blake chuckled before standing and tugging his tunic over his head in one fluid motion.
My breath caught.
His body was a masterpiece. Broad shoulders tapering into a sculpted chest, every inch of him carved with lean muscle.
A few battle scars mapped his skin, pale lines cutting through the golden hue, each one a story I didn’t know.
His biceps flexed as he tossed the bloodstained fabric aside, the muscles in his arms shifting with quiet power.
His torso was all hard planes and perfect symmetry, the ridges of his abdomen tightening as he moved.
A thin trail of light hair led downward, disappearing beneath his pants, and I had to snap my gaze back up before I followed it.
Blake smirked, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
Arrogant, infuriating, unfairly gorgeous.
The cuts looked minor, thank the goddess of compassion.
A few slashes marred the bronzed skin of his arms, thin lines of crimson against muscle and sinew.
One cut ran across his chest, just shallow enough to avoid real concern.
Nothing that would need stitches, but enough to make my stomach tighten.
He had been battling a horde of rebels and demons, and he was mostly unharmed. Was he even human?
“Sit down,” I said gruffly. “Those wounds need to be disinfected.” My voice was steady, but my insides weren’t.
I dipped a clean cloth in the hot bowl of water and herbs and started wiping the blood away. The air smelled of lavender.
“I saw you once, you know. Before. In the Arena during the Judgment. That was mercy killing, wasn’t it?”
His eyes closed, jaw tightened, grief washing over his face.
“I had no choice,” he whispered. “It was kinder than letting them be ripped apart by tygers. Any who do manage to survive being thrown to the tygers are tortured, then executed in secret.”
I nodded. “You did a good thing, Blake.”
“I’m never sure,” he sighed, but his lips turned up just barely. “But thank you, Rubi.”
Humming low under my breath, I cleansed another deep cut.
“You had a number of thundervein weapons that day. Now you’re walking around with one miserable blade while demons are loose?”
“Most of our thundervein has been sent to the troops that need it at the border. It’s incredibly rare. Mages need a powerful storm to channel the thunder for it and very few have the ability to forge it. And now our Anchor is leaking demons as well.” His voice was grim.
I did my best to keep my voice nonchalant. “Speaking of the royal family, why don’t you just marry Princess Malissa? You could rule then and make all the changes you wanted. Not to mention that she’s beautiful.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Any king is bound by the Octagon and all these rusted rules as much as anyone else. No, the only option is to burn the whole system down. It’s too broken.”
“You would sacrifice all you have?” I asked, both voice and heart breaking for him. He was willing to give up all the luxury and power he’d been born into for what was right.
He nodded, eyes bleak. “There’s no future for me, Rubi.”
I said softly, “Well, you’re talking to a woman with no past, so I understand.”
Then he suddenly peeked up at me, that dimple flashing in his cheek. “And by the way, Malissa isn’t my type.”
I had nothing to say to that, feeling a blush rush up my neck.
My hands pressed gently into the muscles of his bicep and forearm as I finished my work on his right side. He was breathing more slowly now, almost as if he were under a spell.
I focused on the wounds, dabbing ointment carefully onto the cleaned skin. His body was warm under my fingertips, the heat of him rising up into the small space between us. His skin was impossibly smooth, like polished stone, every muscle drawn tight beneath it.
The ointment had a sharp, sweet scent, almost addictive. I caught myself leaning closer, breathing it in without meaning to. Or maybe it was him. Something about his scent that was making my heartbeat faster. Making the air feel thicker and charged.
“Are any of these bites?” I asked softly, looking over the left side of his body. My neck itched, a reminder of what lay beneath my hair. “Do you know if these demons are poisonous?”
Blake didn’t answer right away. His eyes were half closed, his breathing steady.
“Blake?”
He blinked and shook his head. “The Thirst demons aren’t, as far as we know. But no one’s been able to stop them once they latch on.”
Except for me.
I bit my lip and tried to keep the worry off my face.
Blake’s eyes sharpened, suddenly wide awake, before locking onto the side of my neck. His entire body went still. “You were bitten.”
Before I could react, he was on his feet, hands gripping my shoulders as he pushed me firmly down into the chair again. The sudden shift left me breathless.
“It’s fine—”
“You should have told me.” He tilted my head back, his fingers firm but careful as he dabbed at my throat with the hot cloth. The warmth seeped into my skin, from his fingers and the fabric. “Cursed blade, Rubi! Why didn’t you say anything? We need to take care of this now.”
“I’m fine,” I murmured, though my breath hitched. “I’d feel it by now if I’d been poisoned.”
Blake didn’t look convinced. His gaze stayed locked on the wound before he smoothed the ointment over my skin. His fingers barely brushed my throat, but it was enough to send my pulse skittering wildly.
“Why the hell didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he sounded hurt.
“It’s fine,” I said, my brow furrowed. “It’s not painful now.”
His nostrils flared. “You could’ve died, Rubi.” His voice was angry. Furious even. “How in the Kingdom of Sky did you get the demon off of you?” he asked, tone low.
I hesitated. “By singing.”
Blake’s hands stilled. “Your magic, you mean.”
“I can’t control it,” I admitted. “And I was exhausted. If you and your rebels hadn’t come when you did…”
I shuddered.
I’d almost died. So had Yvonne and Poppy. And so many people did die. The attack had been chaos, blood and screams and magic burning through the air. So much death. My hands trembled before I could stop them.
Blake caught the movement, then deliberately let a wicked little smile curl at the edge of his mouth. That damned dimple appeared. “I didn’t know you were so handy with a whip.” His gaze flicked to mine, teasingly. “Though I prefer metal restraints in bed.”
My breath settled.
He was flirting with me. My heart slammed against my ribs even as I realized what he was doing. He’d seen my fear, the way it curled around me like cold fingers, and now he was distracting me just like he’d done with Poppy.
It was working.
“Of course you like chains, metal mage.” I rolled my eyes, shoving down the heat in my chest. “I’m a ribbon dancer. I’m good with whips.”
“I know,” he said, his voice quiet. “I think we finally discovered your weapon of choice.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, eyes darting up to look at where he was still tending to the bite on my throat. His breath fluttered over my skin and I gripped the chair beneath me like it might keep me upright.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” he muttered, still in that same dreamily soft voice.
Almost like he was talking to himself. “After watching you dance the other night—and tonight with the whip, with your ribbons. You truly are a songbird,” he breathed, turning his head slightly.
His lips nearly touched the skin of my cheek.
“Ever since that first night, I’ve felt called to you. ”
My heart pounded, my mind reeled, trying to piece together everything, but his words tangled with the air between us, shifting something deep inside me. I was still struggling to come to terms with it all.
Our faces were so close, the space between us barely more than a breath. The air shifted, thickening.
Blake didn’t move. Neither did I.
But I felt the tension in the way his breath ghosted over my lips. His fingers still rested against my chin, his thumb barely grazing my skin, as if he wasn’t sure whether to let go or hold on tighter.
My pulse pounded. The warmth of him, the intensity in his gaze—
I pulled away, clearing my throat. “I should go back, to the palace. We should—I mean, I’m exhausted and—”
“You’ll stay here,” he said. No room for an argument or discussion.
There was a part of me that demanded I be angry with him, but my body was barely able to breathe. I couldn’t think of walking.
“I don’t want to intrude on Yvonne,” I whispered.
He shook his head running a hand through his hair. Blake stretched his hand out toward me, exhaustion seeped into the very marrow of his bones.
“Come with me, Rubi.”