47
“How much longer do I need to wear this?”
I asked the lead healer. Rokath leaned against a worktable a few paces away, watching every touch from the male like a hawk about to swoop down and snatch its prey the moment it moved the wrong way.
“I believe you are healed enough to remove it except while you sleep, though I’d still avoid all overhead movement for at least another week,”
he said, stepping around and prodding the backside of my shoulder. “Did that hurt?”
“No,”
I told him honestly, though I was disappointed that I still couldn’t use my arm the way I wanted. I desperately wanted to bathe, like I’d seen the males going off to do since we entered the canyon oasis. My hair was a greasy, sweaty mess and even the braid I’d kept it in couldn’t stop me from cringing over it.
At this point, I’d sell my body for a chance to wash it. I thought the journey from Stryi to Uzhhorod was awful from a cleanliness standpoint. This trek was so much worse.
At least Rokath had an extra basin of water brought to his tent every night to wipe myself clean with, and for the most part, I could do it one-handed, albeit clumsily.
“Good,”
the healer said, returning to the front and writing something on a piece of parchment. “Let me see you again in a week, and maybe I’ll clear you for some exercises to strengthen that shoulder. It will be weaker now that you dislocated it once.”
“Thank you,”
I sighed, then slid off the table and looked at Rokath, my escort. We’d already had dinner, and it was surprisingly fun when he joined Rapp and me. I’d never seen him so at ease before, which only added to the enigma that I couldn’t quite unravel.
The camp had quietened for the night, and overhead, a million stars greeted us from the crystal clear sky. The heavens felt close enough to reach out and touch, though I didn’t attempt to, given the healer’s warning about too much movement.
“If you want to bathe and wash your hair, I will help you,”
Rokath said, a hand resting on my lower back as he steered me back toward our tent.
“That’s just because you want to couple with me,” I teased.
He grunted, but I sensed a trickle of amusement down our bond. Rokath had slept beside me every night since the snake attacked me, and yet, he hadn’t hated every moment, like any other time he’d been forced to stay with me. As we walked back into our abode, the air wasn’t charged with lightning waiting to strike a wildfire into existence. No, it was calm like the ocean lapping against the shore.
Rokath grabbed two bathing sheets and two bars of soap from beside the basin. “Find a change of clothes for us both,”
he tossed over his shoulder.
A sense of excitement gripped me as I rummaged through my leather bag, pulling out a simple dress that was easy to throw on. Rokath’s travel-worn bag rested beside mine, and the buckle fell away almost without me having to touch it. The threads barely laced it together anymore, and the fabric was cracked with age. Carefully, I wriggled a loose black tunic and black pants from Rokath’s bag—because that was the only color he ever wore—and tumbled them with my dress.
“Ready,”
I told him when I straightened, the bundle of clothes tucked under my good arm.
“Let’s go,”
he growled, striding for the exit. He held the canvas back for me as I returned to the fresh night air. From a nearby post, he grabbed two torches, and the flames cast dancing light over the carved structure of face as we strode out of the camp and toward the flowing stream.
With the late hour, we were alone when we found a spot near the edge, already damp from countless others who’d bathed earlier that evening. A scraggly tree swayed nearby, and Rokath planted the two torches near the riverbank before hanging the bathing sheets on two low branches. He stuck out his hand, and I offered the clothes to him as well. He settled them over another.
“Sit so I can remove the bind around your arm,”
Rokath instructed, gesturing to the round boulders.
I did without putting up a fight. While he still ordered me about like he did the soldiers, I’d come to realize it wasn’t because he despised me any longer. It was simply how he operated. The acceptance that arrived with that conclusion helped me hold my tongue most of the time now.
Rokath worked over my arm, unwrapping the bandage and curling it around his palm as he did so. I caught my own wrist before it could fall as he unwound the last strap securing it to my body. A slight ache bloomed in the joint, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been.
“I can manage the rest I think,”
I told him, rising and kicking off my dusty boots.
He said nothing, but his eyes tracking my every movement as I unlaced the side of the leather and shimmied out of it. I tossed it behind me to the boulder where I had perched before. Getting naked in front of Rokath no longer bothered me after how often he’d had to help me.
The bind for my breasts dropped away, then joined my tunic. The laces on my pants, however, proved more difficult, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to carefully use both hands to slide the leather down. It got stuck around my thighs, and before I could ask for help, Rokath was there, kneeling before me, hands gliding against my skin as he lowered them the rest of the way. Once they bunched around my ankles, I braced myself on his strong back and stepped out of them.
He looked up at me, and those burgundy eyes were filled with something soft, almost tender. But as quickly as it appeared, it departed and he stepped back, clearing his throat. “I will join you in a moment.”
After tossing my clothes to the side, he quickly stripped from his own. The fire cast shadows across his bulk, joining the dark ink that decorated every inch of him. At his neck, skulls stared back at me, empty eyed, save for the one on his throat, which had a blooming rose. Down his chest were various animals—a snarling hound whose eyes seemed to glow with hostility, more snakes wrapped tightly around a tree, and a few birds with sharp claws ready to strike. Between those, thorny vines wove and more roses bloomed. The irony of them being my favorite flower was not lost on me. On his back, I knew, was a perfect circle to match my own, but around it, claw marks, so realistic I’d started the first time I saw them, sliced across the wide expanse.
At the thought of our mate marks, I glanced around, ensuring we were still alone.
“Don’t worry, little imposter, no one will come near enough to see,”
he rumbled, regaining my attention.
“If you’re certain,”
I said, stepping forward. The air between us heated.
“I am. Though it is nice to see your concern about it for a change,”
he replied, sweeping his gaze over my form with the hunger of a starved predator.
His cock thickened as I took another step closer to him and the waiting water. “I need you to unplait my hair,”
I said, voice scarcely more than a whisper.
“Come closer and turn around,”
he rasped, making a twirling motion with his hand.
I did, and when he pressed against my backside, our skin burned. He made no other move to touch me as he worked, and when he finished, my waist-length hair tumbled around me in messy, tangled waves. “I’ll grab the soap. There is a small waterfall just beyond those reeds.”
Rokath pointed into the darkness, and as his voice died away, the trickle of water emerged.
Nodding, I stepped past him and teetered on the edge of the dark water. Then, I sucked in a breath, and entered. The water was warm, which wasn’t surprising when I thought about it, but only about thigh deep on me as I waded away from the shore. A splash sounded behind me, and I felt Rokath approach again. He carried a torch with him, casting our reflection across the disturbed pool.
We reached the other side, where there was indeed a small waterfall. The gush spilled from between two rocks and tipped over the edge of one smoothed from continued abrasion. It was barely high enough for Rokath to stand comfortably beneath. He planted the torch in between two rocks on one side, securing us a hint of light to see by.
Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and allowed the flow to cascade over him, dripping down his body to the delicious V that pointed to his groin. He was carved like these stone walls, etched by the Fates themselves, and exuded death and destruction. Yet when his eyes opened and landed on me, pain revealed itself, emerging from the depths of his black soul.
“Take my place and I will wash your hair,”
he murmured, his instructions softer than they ever had been.
I waded closer, the water deepening enough that it covered my core. The fall didn’t pound against me to the point of pain, but it had enough force to wash away the layers of grime from my skin and soak my hair. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling. Water lapped at my legs as Rokath moved, and then he was behind me again. The hairs on the back of my neck rose with his proximity.
Two strong hands caught my head and tilted it up before squeezing out the ends of my hair. A moment later, firm fingers dug into my scalp, massaging gently. A groan slipped out before I could stop it. Rokath pressed into me, hardness digging into my backside.
“Make that sound again,”
he growled, fingers departing momentarily before returning to a different spot.
This time, when he worked his fingers through my hair, I let the sound tear free with all the force it wanted. Water sprayed over us, mostly blocked by Rokath’s bulk, and I leaned into him, letting him scrub my scalp until it felt somewhat clean.
“I should rinse it now,”
I murmured, eyes closed. There was something so soothing about listening to his thudding heart. “But it feels so good.”
Amusement rumbled against my back, and my eyes popped open. Disregarding his fingers tangled in my hair, I spun to face him. “Did you just laugh?”
He lifted a singular dark brow like I was asking a ridiculous question. “Yes?”
I planted my hands on his abdomen and gave him a light shove. “A joke and a laugh on the same day. Who are you and what did you do with my mate?”
Then, Rokath offered me a smug grin. “Maybe I have sides you don’t know about.”
I found myself grinning back at him. “I don’t think so. You’re pretty straightforward. Fighting and fucking.”
And yet, if I was restrained and forced to select only one word to describe him, I’d have to say complex. From the heady mix of his anger and his affection, to the rage that emanated from him along with the ruin, Rokath was multifaceted in a way I was only beginning to understand.
“Wet your hair so I can wash it again,”
he said, holding my gaze as he stepped back behind the curtain of water.
I rolled my eyes but backed into the flow. Automatically, I lifted my hands to my hair to scrub, but a flare of pain in my shoulder caused me to cry out. Rokath was there immediately, lowering my arms and then digging his fingers into my scalp and rinsing the soap. He planted a kiss on my injured right shoulder, then scooted us forward and out of the spray again. The tender gesture melted more tension from my body.
“It’s still greasy. Another round will do,”
he murmured, hot breath ghosting over my ear.
“Where did you learn so much about the care of a female’s hair?” I teased.
“Xannirin keeps his hair long. Always moaning about how much effort it takes,”
he said while he worked. I relaxed into him again, appreciating the way he held me. “That’s why I shave mine. No effort. No worries.”
“And then everyone can see those scary snakes inked there,”
I pointed out with a small laugh.
“What did you say before? That I tattooed my entire body to make up for my small penis?”
He ground his length into my back to prove a point.
My cheeks and core flamed. “I was angry.”
“I was too.”
“About me saying you had a small penis?”
“About having a mate.”
He dropped his hands away for a moment, and then he was rubbing the bar of soap over my collarbone and across my chest in languid circles. I wanted to ask him if he was still angry, but his ministrations drifted lower, nearly brushing my nipples, and I forgot everything but the feeling of his touch. The water rippled as he came closer, half-bending over me to reach my stomach. His other hand traced a map from my hair, down my back, and around my waist picking up where his other left off.
Then, he soaped up my opposite side. My breath hitched when it swiped under my breast, avoiding the sensitive area I wanted to be touched. “Rokath,”
I whimpered, leaning back into him.
“Shh,”
he said, his free hand coming to cover my mouth. He toyed with my lips, running a finger along them, and without thought, I opened my mouth and sucked the tip in. “Fuck, Assyria,”
he groaned, low enough that I barely heard the sound.
Water cascaded over us as he dragged me backward beneath the fall. The force of it over my nipples pulled another heady sound from me, especially when his fingers dug into my hair and massaged again. Again, he tugged me, leaving a curtain of water between us and the outside world. I sucked in a sharp breath, and it echoed in the small space around us. Rokath seemed massive in it as I stared up at him.
Without breaking eye contact, he rubbed the soap over the peaks and valleys of his muscles, then over his hard length. From a hidden stone, he grabbed another bar and handed it to me. I accepted it, then followed his motions, simultaneously cleaning my body and amplifying the tension coiled in my muscles. Lifting a leg from the water, I worked the skin into a lather, nearly tipping over in the process. Rokath caught me, then planted my foot on his hip without saying a word.
Balanced there, I continued cleansing, unable to help that my eyes landed on his erection pointing directly at me, like I was its beacon home.
“So beautiful,”
Rokath murmured. I found him staring, raking his gaze over me with the thirst of a dying man. With the utmost care, he lowered my one leg and then lifted the other, offering me balance to clean the final part of my body. But then, he stole the soap from me and did it himself, a firmness in his fingers that relieved the tension in the muscles there.
“Rinse,”
he commanded, and my core throbbed.
I hated being told what to do by anyone; I loved being told what to do by Rokath. As strange as it was to admit to myself, with him, I felt…safe. Like even when he barked orders, it was because he cared, in his own fucked up way.
Slowly, I backed away and into the water. He tracked my every movement, every breath, as he stalked forward. I tipped my head back into the flow, letting it cascade over me again. And then, his lips pressed into mine. Not with the usual savagery and violence that was the embodiment of Rokath, but with passion, intensity, and want.
“You owe me an orgasm, you know,”
I purred in his mind.
“Owe you? Little imposter, denying you an additional one was a punishment.”
A grip on my hair tugged me back even more, until my throat was bared to my mate entirely. He released my mouth and worked his way to my fluttering, erratic pulse.
“Since you’ve behaved, I might allow you to come tonight. But only if you ask nicely.”
And then, he sucked on that sensitive spot. I bowed into him, and his free hand caught my low back and crushed me against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled myself even closer. His throbbing erection pressed against my dripping core. If I only moved slightly lower…
“Ask me. Beg me. I loved hearing you plead for it last time.”
I rolled my hips against him, letting him feel just how hot and wet I was between my thighs. “Promise you’ll let me come?”
A growl rumbled against my throat. “You can come if you obey. Now beg before I change my mind.”
“You wouldn’t.”
A little laugh accompanied the words.
He jerked my hair back and forced me to look into his dark eyes, and then his mouth curved into a wicked smile. “One of us has more self control than the other.”
A mirror one stretched across my face. “You call your temper self control?”
“I could unleash a lot more. The world should be grateful that I do not,”
he stated, dropping his head and running his nose up my neck to my ear. “Do you want to come, little imposter, or not?”
“Yes,”
I breathed, eyes fluttering closed as his warm lips pressed against the underside of my jaw. “Please, Rokath, make me come.”
With one strong arm, he shifted us so that the tip of his cock nudged at my entrance. “Again,”
he ordered, rolling his hips so his length slid along me.
“Please,”
I panted, nails digging into his shoulder and around his back.
Then, he pressed into me, one slow inch at a time. I hissed at his size, stretching me, filling me, setting every nerve alight.
“You can take it. Just breathe,”
he spoke into my mind. A shuddering breath wracked my frame as I tried to relax.
Fuck, this angle was blissful torture, the curve of his cock hitting just the right spots as he worked himself inside. Rokath’s movements were slow, too damn slow, compared to the ways he had taken me before. Those were all rage and wrath; this was languid and luxurious.
Shifting us again, he gripped my ass with both of his large hands, squeezing and using his hold to slide me up and down his length. “Oh, Fates,”
I cursed as he shoved me all the way to the hilt, head tipping back as stars danced in my vision.
Slowly, he dragged me off him, until only the head of him was left inside me. My mouth popped open in an O as he sank inside again. Over and over he fucked me like that, forcing me to feel every inch he had to offer. My cries echoed around the rocks, only slightly muffled by the falling water at my back.
Then, Rokath stopped, and my eyes snapped open, ready to admonish him for lying to me about making me come. But he spun us, took two steps, and pressed us against the smooth rock wall. Pinning me there, his lips found mine, crashing harder than a mountain waterfall.
I moaned and opened for him, tasting pepper and spice on his tongue. He curved his hips into mine, drawing another wanton sound from my lips.
“Fuck, Assyria, you take my cock so well,”
he groaned into my mind. Rokath hiked a leg higher around his waist and somehow found himself even deeper than before. The feeling of being so utterly full was exquisite, and I basked in the pleasure of it. I was at his mercy as he quickened his pace, trapped between the hard wall and his harder body.
I loved every second of it.
Heavy breaths pressed against my chest as he dropped his mouth to the crook of my neck. “Rokath,”
I panted, the rough scratch of his beard there adding a new sensation to the mix. Tension coiled low in my belly, and I clung to him, moving my hips to meet his as I chased just the right angle.
He thrust into me, so hard, so deep, it robbed me of breath. “You come when I say you come. Understood?”
“Yes,”
I moaned, though how I would stop myself from falling over the edge once I reached it was a mystery I didn’t want to solve.
“Yes, what?”
He nipped at my pulse, then planted a kiss under my ear.
“Yes, mate? Yes, sir? Yes, Halálhívó?”
I guessed, wound too tightly to care. If he could just shift his hips again…
A low rumble vibrated us both. “The last two are better.”
He pressed harder into the wall, squishing my breasts and rubbing against my nipples, but somehow he managed to work a hand between us and flick his thumb over the sensitive bud at the apex of my thighs.
I jerked at the sudden bloom of pleasure, then moaned, long, low, needy. “Please,”
I begged, arching into him.
He dragged his thumb across it again just as his teeth sank into the crook of my shoulder. “Fates!”
“They aren’t the ones delivering you pleasure, Assyria. You call out my name and my name alone,”
he growled, his cock thickening inside me as he continued to swirl my clit.
“Yes, Halálhívó, please,”
I moaned, needing him to move, to deliver the orgasm he promised.
“Please, what?”
he said, dragging his length out and then back in.
“Make me come,”
I cried, desperate for the thread holding me back to snap.
His thumb worked faster, moving in time with his hips. Slapping sounds filled the stolen spot under the waterfall, along with my whimpers and moans, and all I could do was hold on as Rokath fucked me. My walls tightened, a wave of pleasure cresting and readying to crash.
“Not until I say,”
Rokath growled.
“I can’t stop it,”
I panted back, my entire body trembling.
“Yes you can. You come when I say you come,”
he ordered.
A gush of arousal slicked my thighs from his commanding presence. Rokath thickened again, a low groan rumbling in his throat. “Oh, Rokath, fuck, I need to come.”
“One minute more, Assyria. You can take it,”
he snarled, hips driving harder, faster again.
I clutched him like he was the only way I’d survive riding on the intensity of this wave, losing all semblance of self awareness. All I felt was utter ecstasy, and I surrendered myself to the feeling of it. My heart raced and I dragged down as many breaths as I could, hoping to draw out the gratification.
A primal growl ripped from his chest, and he pressed his thumb firmly into my center. “Good girl. Now you may come.”
The wave crashed, sweeping away everything other than blinding, blissful pleasure that cascaded through my veins. My core clenched around his length, and my eyes fluttered as I drowned in the sensation of him inside me. He dragged out the tide of my orgasm, his mouth hot and heavy against my neck as he continued his furious pace.
When breath slammed back into me, he yanked himself out and squirted his cum into the water below. Trembling, I slid back into its cool embrace, scarcely able to support myself. He caught my good arm before I pitched to the side.
“Thanks,”
I said, blinking as I tried to regain control of myself.
“For the orgasm?”
he said, eyes simmering with sinister amusement.
I rolled my own, a small smile tugging at my lips. “That too, if that’s what you’d like.”
He cocked his head, staring down at me. “Yes, I think I like that.”
“Of course you do.”
I shook my head and then moved to pass him.
But he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to his chest before I got too far. My palms flattened against the tattoos, and I looked up at him through wet lashes. I was quite the sight, long wet hair clinging in all directions, flushed from an orgasm, thighs dripping with arousal.
“You are beautiful, Assyria,”
Rokath said, fingers brushing my cheek.
A flutter filled my stomach, and I stared up into those riotous burgundy eyes. The moment felt a lot like what lovers should do after coupling, and I wondered if his orgasm had anything to do with it. Yet after the shifts I’d seen in him over the past week, I couldn’t pass it off on that, or even our bond anymore.
Fear knotted my stomach. There was not—could not be—possibility of more between us. Everyone I loved died. Everyone who loved me died. If our feelings deepened, the Reaper would drag him into the next world.
Why would the Weaver offer us this path then?
The Giver had blessed him with the power to reanimate the dead. We were at fucking war, and Rokath had said time and time again he was the only male standing in the way of the Angels exterminating the Demon race. His power was the only thing keeping them at bay.
I couldn’t love him, and he couldn’t love me, or we’d all die.
Rather than open myself up to the pain of what would happen if I fell in love with him, I stepped back. He lifted a hand almost involuntarily to reach for me. Something a lot like hurt flashed across his face before that granite, stoic expression I knew so well slid back into place.
“I’m sorry,”
I murmured as I backed through the waterfall and out of his grasp.