29
Three. Fucking. Days.
I hadn’t slept since before that Fates damned bond snapped into place. My temper was at an all time high, and the slightest issue sent me smashing everything around me. I couldn’t even bring myself to feel bad about my behavior or the way I yelled at every officer or soldier in my path.
The mate mark was an insistent ring scorching my back and searing my heart. It wanted me to go to Gyor Palace, to my chambers, to claim my mate. Whenever I stepped west, it punished me with a forceful tug.
I was ready to fucking leave Uzhhorod just so I could have Assyria close to me and ease the relentless begging from this magic.
My cock strained against my pants as I stared up at the ceiling of my tent, borderline painful despite how many fucking times I’d fucked my hand.
I couldn’t even come, for Fates’ sake. Every time I tried, I ended up more frustrated than when I’d started. It was as if the bond were punishing me for trying to do anything other than sink into the wet, warm cunt of my mate.
It didn’t help that those bow-shaped lips entered my vision every time I closed my eyes. The drawings Kiira made of her were nothing compared to the real thing. Assyria was the type of female I could crave. Her fire, her sharp wit, her beauty. All of it could easily become an addiction, a distraction, when everything was at risk and one wrong move would send everything I’d worked for crumbling to ashes.
With a string of curses, I threw the sheet off of me and stalked to my dressing table, snapping armor into place and relishing the pain from the force of the motions. Anything to calm the disquiet in my mind. Grem and Zeec were on their feet and wagging their tails by the time I finished. It was still early, and I had time to sneak away before any planning sessions.
I am simply going to Gyor to see Xannirin, and hopefully make this bond chill the fuck out.
My hounds followed me into the breaking dawn, racing alongside my black stallion as we entered the city gates and wound our way through the streets to the palace. With each step closer, the bond eased, and I cursed it too, for rewarding this behavior.
It was early enough when I arrived that Xannirin was still sleeping. I knew better than to think he hadn’t gone to bed hours before. Kicking myself, I strode from his study toward our wing of the palace.
I am going to wake him up, not go into my chambers.
The sentries noted my approach, offering me a salute and stepping aside. I knew from their daily reports that Assyria hadn’t left the wing and spent the majority of her time with Kiira in the garden. Ignoring them, I turned right and toward the doors to Xannirin’s rooms. The bond burned my back, locking my spine from the pain. Gritting my teeth, I breathed through it. Assyria was so close, I could feel her just on the other side of these walls, and it knew that too.
“I am not going to see her,”
I growled, as if the bond were a living being that could hear the fury dripping from my tone and bow to it.
It did no such thing.
In fact, it punished me again for entering my cousin’s sitting chamber. “Fucking Reaper,”
I muttered, finding it in disarray with a trail of clothing leading to my cousins bed. In it, the Kral of the Demons slumbered, fully nude, with a female on either side of him.
“Assyria better not have witnessed any of this,”
I barked, lack of sleep, the bond, my temper all melding into one and becoming a projectile to fling at the nearest target.
With a start, Xannirin woke, rubbing his bleary eyes. He looked around, as if he were trying to uncover why I was so angry. Then, he nudged each of the premier fallen, rousing them. “Get out,”
he instructed.
With a glance at me, one yawned, then rolled out of the bed, giving me a wide berth as she went in search of her clothes. The second scurried away faster, keeping her head down the entire time. Tingling heat pierced every fiber of my being while I waited for the telltale click of the outer door closing behind them. I was so, so close to losing the last shred of sanity I possessed.
A smile spread across Xannirin’s face. “She participated.”
With a snarl, I leaped on him, pinning his throat beneath my massive, tattooed hand. The fucker only laughed, clutching his abdomen and trying to catch his breath. “That was too good of an opportunity to pass up,”
he wheezed, and I shoved off of him.
Crossing my arms, I waited for him to put some damn clothes on. “Why did you come, Rokath? I wasn’t expecting you for another day at least.”
“Because,”
I started, then realized I had no excuse, no news to offer him.
“That’s what I thought,”
Xannirin teased, buttoning up a navy tunic.
A growl rumbled in my chest, and I spun on my heel, back to the sitting chamber. I threw myself on a chair, then shoved my head between my hands, rubbing my jaw furiously. Xannirin padded toward me and sat opposite, crossing one ankle over his knee. He rested his head on his closed fist and watched me unravel with a fucking smile on his face.
“I am so glad you find this amusing, cousin,”
I snarled.
“Somehow it is simultaneously amusing and concerning. It would be a lot funnier if we weren’t at war,”
he replied, not dropping his grin.
“I hate this. Hate her,”
I snipped, collapsing back and pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I can’t fucking sleep. I need to fucking sleep.”
“Do you need something strong from the healers to help?”
Xannirin asked, his tone softening.
I didn’t need his fucking pity. Glaring at him, I said, “Yes, but only for today.”
He knew, as much as I did, that once I started taking sleeping droughts regularly, I wouldn’t stop. Insomnia had plagued me for centuries, and I managed it well enough—most of the time. I’d started them after the incident with Thast, and it took decades for me to admit I needed to kick them. What a nightmare that had been—and one I didn’t want to suffer through again.
“I’ll send for one now. You can sleep in my bed for a few hours if you want,”
Xannirin offered.
Shoulders finally relaxing, I nodded. My cousin hurried to speak with the guards stationed outside his rooms while I sat, staring at nothing, fatigue pulling at everything the bond wasn’t. He returned a few minutes later with the bitter potion. “It’s a half dose, so you’ll only get a few hours.”
I’d take what I could get. I snatched the glass and threw it back. The foul taste coated my tongue despite my best efforts, and I coughed. Xannirin fetched me some water, and I gulped it, trying to cleanse my mouth. That, at least, was an incentive not to get hooked on them again.
“Better head in there before it kicks in. I can’t carry you, you muscled ass,”
Xannirin quipped, shooing me with his hands.
Grumbling, I rose, drowsiness already clawing at me. At least the potion worked quickly.
Xannirin’s bed was still warm when I fell into it after fumbling off my armor. I tried my best to leave it in a neat pile. Mind slowing, the chaotic thoughts that had kept me awake night after night drifted away. Where the bond had burned into me, only soothing caresses remained.
Finally, fucking finally, I was escaping its madness. I blinked into the pillow before allowing my eyes to drift closed. With a heavy exhale, sleep swept me off to a palace of oblivion, where the pressure of protecting the Demons, protecting my mate, no longer attempted to drown me.