Chapter 23 Do Not Pass Out
Verena
W ith my heart pounding in my chest, I frantically run in a direction opposite of Dryston. My senses are on high alert as I dash through the unfamiliar trees of Khyrel. Everywhere feels dangerous right now, but anywhere has to be better than staying here with him. As one of the few people in this town with rare hair, I know that I will stand out and potentially draw unwanted attention. But at this moment, all I can think about is finding some kind of refuge.
However, after my time in the treacherous Zoryan court, where everyone was out for themselves and betrayal was common, I find it hard to trust anyone.
My legs are burning with exhaustion, but I push myself to keep going. Just when I start to question if I should have taken a different path, I feel a sharp rock pierce the bottom of my foot and stab into the most vulnerable spot. The pain shoots through me and my inner sarcastic voice wants to comment on how maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I were wearing boots, something Eryx has been onto me about. But I quickly push those thoughts away and try to focus on getting away.
As my breathing becomes more laborious and pieces of dirt from my face fly into my mouth, I feel the adrenaline from the recent fight and fear of being caught by Dryston coursing through me. But I can’t stop now. Even though I can no longer see him behind me, I can hear his angry shouts and it only fuels me to keep running. With determination in my stride, I continue forward in the direction I was originally heading toward.
Any thoughts I had about going back to the Court of Dawn are all gone now. Dryston can suck fate if he thinks I’ll ever be in Zorya again. Not until he dies by my hands.
I turn suddenly, running in a different direction once I feel as if it’s too long to go straight. Changing up my pattern will help too.
My head starts throbbing and as I reach up to grab my forehead, I feel a warm wet and sticky substance sliding down my skin. The blood makes me lightheaded, scared of what would happen if I were to pass out right now in the middle of nowhere with Dryston hot on my tail.
I see smoke ahead, the scent of food and mead overlapping with the scent of sweat and earth. A cry of relief goes through me. I didn’t think I’d feel this relieved since Hadeon and I passed through the border.
The doors swing open as I burst inside, causing a stir among the crowd. All eyes turn to me, some wide with surprise and others gaping in shock. My gaze sweeps over the room, taking note of the few individuals wearing Khyrelian armor.
“Help me,” I gasp, my knees giving out beneath me. A guard quickly rushes forward to catch me before I hit the ground. My vision begins to fade into darkness, blinking in and out like a faulty light bulb. I squint my eyes, willing myself not to pass out.
“What is your name?” One of the guards asks me while another stands close by, scowling at my appearance. A maid hurries over with a cup of water, assisting me in taking small sips. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
As I start to calm down, I strain to hear any sounds in the building. The once silent space is now filled with voices whispering and murmurs of concern, but Dryston’s angry calls and growls are no longer audible.
“My name is Verena, I’m King Eryx’s betrothed. I was just attacked in the woods by the king of Zorya.” Whatever whispers were surrounding the silence, stopped too. I swear everyone can hear my heart beat fast and hard. The guard helping me is young and I take the time to look at him and the other guard here.
The one bending in front of me holds an empathetic look. He’s young and handsome but I can tell he was a newer guard. Definitely not older than the king. He seemed sweet and concerned for my well-being. His dirty blond hair falls to the side of his head in curls, his tanned skin, and his hazel eyes warm like the sunny forest I just ran from; brown with hints of green drizzled throughout.
The older one standing with a scowl looks as if he isn’t necessarily happy with my presence but he seems to not completely hate me. Esmeray had told me some of the guards weren’t happy with the union and how they don’t trust me, which I knew I’d have to rectify. But seeing it in person was throwing me off. “Liam, get word to the king.” He says, his voice seemingly deeper than who I am assuming is Liam. His eyes were brown too, but more caramel-colored to stand out against his skin tone. He was taller and more built, as to be expected with the older but still young fae.
The one kneeling nods his head before giving me one last concerned gaze and booking it out to his horse outside.
“Are you alright?” The older one questions me, concerned only in the name of the king, I’m sure.
“I think so.” He hands me the wet rag from the maid and let’s me try to clean myself up. I don’t even know how the cut on my head got there but it’s slowed down the bleeding. I apply pressure to try to stop it as the guard and I stare each other down. “You don’t like me much, do you?” I ask him, still breathless and barely conscious, curiosity eating away at me.
He watches the room as everyone goes back to their business, stealing glances at me every so often. “I do not know you.” Is all he says but it is a loaded answer.
“I do not blame you, you know? I wouldn’t trust me either. I have done nothing to earn anyone’s trust. The only thing you all have to go on is the word of the royal family. I came from nowhere and out of the blue. It’s hard to trust a person like that.” He watches me carefully as I speak. “I’d like to earn your trust— the guards and the people of Khyrel. ”
He nods in understanding, “I look forward to you earning it, Lady Verena.” There isn’t more words to be said so we sit in silence, waiting for Liam and the king to return.
* * *
“Where is she?”
The tavern was now empty, the loud voice of King Eryx booming through the once lively atmosphere. The guard and a few others had quickly cleared out the remaining patrons, leaving us alone in the dimly lit room. As Eryx bursts through the door, his face was flushed and his muscular tanned body shook with rage. In that moment, I realized just how much trouble I was in. He was furious with me for wandering into the woods and leaving the castle grounds.
I stand from my seat, my hands trembling as I tried to remain composed. He immediately takes notice of me and even as other guards stare and watch, the one who had been here the entire time stepped forward to speak with the king. But Eryx ignored him completely, storming toward me with furious purpose.
In a sudden and unexpected move, his large hands cover my cheeks as he pulls me closer, locking eyes with me. Though his rage still burns within him, it seems to diminish slightly at the sight of me. “Where else are you hurt?” His thumb brushes gently over my head wound, no longer actively bleeding but still sore to the touch. I wince at the pressure and he immediately stops, concern evident in his features.
I can’t even remember now, where my other wounds are, with him here holding me like this. I thought he would be mad at me. Not worried. Not like this. Maybe for the female that holds the secrets to protecting his kingdom from war but not as if nothing else matters but my safety. My chest rises and falls rapidly, in time with my heart profusely pounding from his proximity. His shadows caress me all over as if searching for more wounds.
“Nowhere important.” I guess as he pulls me further back, reluctantly, from his own body and assesses me with his dark eyes. “Just some scratches.” My voice is quiet and small. “Dryston was here.” It cracks as I finally want to break down from realization. “I am so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I- I thought I’d be fine but I was wrong. He tried to take me back but I wouldn’t let him… I wouldn’t let him! A-and he started attacking me and I tried. I tried to get away. I could barely hold him off. I-” I stop speaking, my thoughts a jumbled mess wanting to tell him about my powers but not in front of other ears. He sees this as I glance around before meeting his eyes.
“I know Dryston was here. As soon as they found me and told me what happened, I rushed over to find you and yelled for them to search the woods. But he isn’t my priority.” His eyes read my soul as if trying to tell me something with them. “I needed to know you were okay.”
He pulls me to him with gentle urgency, his strong arms enveloping my slender frame. The sudden embrace catches me off guard, but I reciprocate, inhaling his familiar scent — a mix of maple and brown sugar and something uniquely him — to soothe my frayed nerves. I can sense him doing the same, his breath warm against my hair, sending a tingling current of energy coursing through my body. “Let’s get back to the castle,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against my ear. I nod wordlessly, my cheek presses against the rough fabric of his tunic. He slowly releases me, only to tuck me closer to his side, his arm a protective barrier as we exit the dimly lit tavern. He acknowledges the guards with a curt nod as we pass.
Exhaustion weighs heavily upon me, seeping into my very bones. The magical duel with Dryston has drained me more than I realized. My limbs feel leaden, my steps sluggish. He seems to sense my fatigue, for as soon as we return and he dismounts our horse, he scoops me up into his arms without hesitation. This tender gesture is so uncharacteristic of him, of us, that it leaves me breathless with its novelty.
This new dynamic between us sends shivers of anticipation through my body. Despite my bone-deep weariness, I find myself acutely aware of every point of contact between us. The warmth of his body seeps into mine, a stark contrast to the cool night air. His breathing is measured, as if he’s consciously trying to remain calm, but I can feel the rapid tattoo of his heart echoing my own.
He cradles me securely, one arm supporting my knees while the other curves around my back. I nestle against his broad chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby. My hand, seemingly of its own volition, begins to trace delicate patterns over his heart. I feel the muscles in his chest tense beneath my fingertips, and unbidden, my mind wanders to how those same muscles might feel moving above me. The thought sends a rush of heat to my cheeks and a flutter of anticipation to my stomach.
Why am I acting like this? I was attacked in the woods not too long ago and yet all I can think of right now is him. His body. His breathing. It sparks something in me.
I trail my fingers up, brushing his neck and watching his artery throb as blood races through him. Why do I have the sudden urge to lick him?
I hold that one back, fighting myself.
We arrive in front of his room and he opens the door before closing it with his foot and setting me on the bed. He stares at me for what feels like forever before turning away and heading for the door.
“Wait!” The word rushes out without thought and immediately I get off the bed and walk over to his still body, his back facing me.
I watch as he clenches his hands. “Please,” I have no idea what I am asking of him but he turns toward me, his eyes raking over my body as if memorizing every inch. My mark tingles with a need for him.
This is crazy, wild, and completely what I was originally trying to avoid.
I can almost feel his thoughts swimming through my own mind as he reaches out and places his hands firmly on my thighs, lifting me up and pressing me against the wall beside the door.
A sharp intake of breath escapes me before his mouth is on mine, consuming me in a fiery kiss that leaves me dizzy and wanting more. I can’t help but moan as he explores every inch of my mouth with his tongue, a dance of passion and desire.
“I thought you were angry with me,” I breathlessly gasp between kisses as he trails his lips along my neck. He lets out a dark chuckle that sends shivers down my spine.
“Oh, I am,” he growls, gripping me tighter against the wall. “I am so angry at you.” Each word is punctuated with a fierce kiss, leaving my skin tingling and my mind spinning. “For being reckless…” He kisses down my jawline, trailing hot kisses down my neck. “For not listening…” His lips brush against the sensitive spot below my ear before nipping at it. “For putting yourself in danger.” A low groan escapes him as he nips harder, eliciting a whimper from deep within me.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” I’m breathless.
He grinds his center against mine, a moan this time slipping out, “I don’t think you have.” He moves us, my legs wrapping tightly around him, fearful he’ll let go.
He carries me to the desk in the luxurious suite, my body feeling weightless in his strong arms. He sets me down and without hesitation, his skillful hands tear away the fabric of my dress, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
My breath catches in surprise as his lips find mine once again, igniting a wildfire inside me. His tongue dances expertly with mine, sending shivers down my spine. I’ve never felt anything like this before.
In the past, my only lover had been Dryston, and not always by choice. But this… this is something else entirely.
His rough, tanned hands glide along my thighs, causing my body to arch toward him. My ankle digs into his backside, urging him closer. Through his trousers, I can feel his growing bulge and my hand instinctively runs over it with desperate longing.
A small voice in the back of my mind tries to warn me to stop, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming desire pulsating through every inch of my being. “We shouldn’t do this.” I say flimsily, attempting to keep my head.
“Probably.” He answers without any conviction .
When his fingers finally reach my wet center, I let out a loud moan of pleasure. “Oh gods,” I manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, completely consumed by the intensity of our passion.
“Just me.” This time humor laces his deep voice and his shadows slip around us once more, grazing my skin in a cooling touch. It’s like a refreshing wind on a hot summer day. They trail up my thighs and over my center. I can’t seem to breathe.
A low, guttural groan escapes his lips as he runs his hand over my body, tracing the wetness that slips down my thigh. “You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. I can feel my body responding to his touch, grinding against his hand in desperate need of friction. He suddenly removes his hand and I whimper at the loss of contact.
But then, he surprises me by bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking on them, his eyes never leaving mine. I am consumed by the fiery hunger in his gaze as he presses his other hand gently against my chin.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and I find myself nodding obediently. I am completely bare before him, and he gazes longingly at every inch of my body — my face, my neck, my breasts— but stops before going any further due to our bodies pressing tightly together.
“I want to see you,” I manage to say through ragged breaths, tugging at his clothes. With a knowing smile, he strips off his garments and I follow behind him, tracing the intricate tattoos bedeck his muscular arms and chest. There is an abundance of art painted onto his skin, but it is the small distinct one on his hip that catches my attention. My blood runs hot as I slip off the desk to get closer to him, running my fingertips over the delicate bird etched into his skin. It’s in the exact same spot as my birthmark, with the same shape and size.
But that can’t be possible. Because that would mean…
“Your bird. Is this a tattoo?” I ask, my voice a whisper. He looks down at it before looking at my face again, a hint of concern ghosting his face.
“It’s a birthmark. Been there since I was a kid although my mom hadn’t seen it until I was six. It just appeared one day.” He says, his voice still low as he looks at me with confusion. “What’s wrong?” He asks. My heart flutters at the fact that he is more concerned about me than he is turned on.
I rub my hip subconsciously, surprised he hasn’t seen it yet. But his eyes follow my hand and they widen. “Is that-”
“The same one. ”
“But that means…” He trails off, as if not believing it. Or it’s because if he says it out loud, it becomes true. He did agree with me to stop whatever this is. Our focus supposed to be on the business side of our arrangement.
Of course. What am I doing?! He doesn’t want to be mates with me. Fate or not.