Chapter Ten
The main room was emptywhen I emerged from the bath. I scurried over to the bed, looking through the covers for the clothes Bastian brought, but found nothing other than more blankets.
I frowned. Where the hell were they?
A pile of folded fabric sitting on the trunk at the end of the bed caught my eye. Of course. I shook my head with an amused huff. My situation had me all turned about and foggy-headed. If I wanted to get out of this alive and without ruining any chance of an ally-ship between Indigo and the dragons, I needed to stay focused and careful. If the entire truth came out when Indigo arrived, I hoped they’d understand why I kept it to myself. If I told them what was really going on, it could ruin everything between them. I hoped it wouldn’t if it all came out. We needed them on our side.
I inspected the clothes, the black pants and green blouse. This blouse still dipped lower than I was accustomed to, but was much better than the last one. I unwrapped the towel from my body and dropped it to the floor at my feet.
A sharp breath behind me sent me spinning around to see Bastian staring at me with wide eyes and a heaving chest. I froze, unable to move, barely able to breathe. My nipples pebbled beneath his attention as his gaze slid over every inch of my naked body. My thighs shifted together, and it broke the spell between us. I dove onto the bed and wiggled beneath the covers as Bastian turned his back to me and faced the door to his office.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were out of the bath already.” His voice was strained.
I grabbed the clothes and pulled them on beneath the covers. “It’s fine. I forgot to take the clothes with me into the bathroom.”
“No problem. I should have knocked.”
“You shouldn’t have to knock before entering your own bedroom. It’s fine. It’s just flesh. No big deal.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, him or me.
“Right.”
“Where did you put the cloak I had soaking in the tub?” I wiggled to get my ass into the tight trousers, disappearing under the blankets.
“I sent it to the laundry service to see if they could fix it.”
I stilled, gratitude welling. “Oh. Thank you.”
“You seemed to want to save it.”
Finally dressed, I crawled out from beneath the covers and settled back on top of them. “I do. Saber, one of my kindreds, got it for me. It’s all I have left of them.”
“I understand that. Completely. But we’ll get you back to them soon I’m sure.” He peeked hesitantly over his shoulder, and realizing I was clothed, turned back around.
“You’re finally convinced I’m not a spy?” I fidgeted with the hem of the shirt, trying to yank it lower to cover my behind.
He strode over to the nightstand and pulled out a roll of bandages and the jar of cream. “If you are, you’re the best I’ve ever seen and we definitely need to recruit you to our side. Your performance certainly went a long way in satisfying everyone’s concerns.” He sat beside me and grabbed one of my hands, spreading cream over the red marks.
“No one believes I made it up on the spot?” I watched his graceful fingers fix me up.
“If you did, you’re even more of a genius than we already saw.”
I eyed him with suspicion. “Why are you buttering me up? I won’t be recruited, you know.”
The corner of his lips quirked. “I know. Which is easier for me, but you would be a valued asset.”
“Sorry. No interest. And what do you mean, easier for you?”
“Nothing.” He rolled the leg of my pants up with a slow and somehow sensual movement, biting his bottom lip as he smoothed the cream around my ankle, then moving to my left leg to do the same.
Lust flared inside me. “You meant it removes the temptation?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know much about the bonds since my parents never found theirs and I’m still new to this, but shouldn’t it get easier over time? The longer we deny it? Right now, it hurts and feels impossible to resist.” I rubbed my chest, hating the draw I felt towards him. It was easier to ignore while we talked, the conversation distracting.
He leaned closer, hypnotizing me with his inky eyes. “It does get easier. There are many people here who have denied the bond. Some hate each other, some are wonderful friends, some have casual sex and are somehow able to resist more. But I can’t imagine any of that right now. All I want is to rip those clothes off of you and see you screaming in the middle of my bed.”
My mouth dried up and my hands curled into fists in the blankets as I fought against the desire to throw myself at him. It was easier to fight the bond when he wasn’t saying those type of things or looking at me with hunger darkening his eyes. But when desire swirled in the depths of his midnight gaze, it made the need burning inside me blaze to life from a simmer to a violent boil.
I licked my lips, and he tracked the movement, a desperate sound rumbling from the back of his throat. His hand still wrapped around my ankle, hot and firm. The tension between us was so tight any sudden movement or the wrong word would make it snap. I couldn’t look away from the lines of muscles in his chest and down his abdomen, the clinging material of his blue shirt hiding nothing. It wasn’t just the women who showed their bodies off in the dragon lands.
Bastian finally broke our stares and silence, rising from the bed after releasing my bandaged leg. “I... I need to get some research done in my office. You should get more rest if you want. Or I have plenty of books if you’d like to read.”
I shook off the fog of lust, searching for something, anything to take my mind off of him. “Actually, do you have paper and pen? I have a new song I need to write down before I lose it.”
Interest lit up his face. “Of course. Do you need an instrument?”
Excitement spiraled through my veins. “What sort do you have?”
“I have a flute and a guitar and a few handbells.”
I smiled. “The guitar and the bells would be perfect. I’ve never tried the flute.”
“I’ll bring it to you as well. Perhaps you’ll find you enjoy it.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. “They’re doing nothing but gathering dust in my study. I enjoy music and am fascinated by it, but I’ve never had the time or the chance to learn.”
He broke my heart. “I could teach you a little while I’m stuck here.”
“Really?” A hint of vulnerability and hesitant hope flashed in his eyes.
I shot him a tentative smile. “If you’re interested.”
“I’d quite like that. Thank you.”
I waved him off. “It’s no big deal. I like anything to do with music. I’ve never taught anyone before, so we’ll see how it goes.”
He disappeared into his study for a few moments before reemerging with instruments, paper, and a pen clutched in his arms. My fingers itched to rip them away from him, but I forced myself to remain still as he brought them over and set them on the bed.
“I’ll be in my study if you need anything.”
I stared at the pile of wonderful beside me on the bed, raising one trembling hand to run my fingers across the cold metal of the flute and bells. The guitar would have to wait, my bandaged fingers would be too clumsy on the strings.
I crawled into the center of the bed, scrawling the lyrics still playing through my mind onto the page. The music in my mind refused to let go, to release me from its demands. Not until I got it down onto the page, until I added the proper notes to the matching words. Only then could I stop.
I tried the hand bells first, grinning wide at the pure sound emanating from them. Bastian only had two, one low and one high, but the sound they made enchanted me. Next I picked up the flute, running it through my fingers, testing the buttons and holes, before I brought it up to my lips and blew softly into the mouthpiece.
An ear splitting shriek came from it, making me jerk and almost drop it into my lap. With a frustrated huff, I tried again, pressing different keys this time. A better sound spilled from the flute, but still too flat. I was too aware of Bastian in the next room, well within hearing range. It made me nervous.
I eyed the guitar with longing, the instrument so similar to my ukulele. The hand bells didn’t carry enough notes for me to finish my song and I’d need days or weeks to conquer the flute. Maybe if I stuck to strumming, it wouldn’t interfere with the bandages or wounds too badly. They were well-wrapped and tight. It’d be fine.
Unable to resist, I set the flute aside with a glare at the gleaming metal and settled the guitar in my lap. I was quite familiar with the guitar. My father had owned one before he sold it so we could eat the next couple of days. He sold all his instruments until all he had left was the ukulele, unable to bear to part with it.
Dust motes floated and danced in the air as I tuned it, glittering in the firelight as they swirled around and settled onto me and the bed. The right notes finally spilled into the room from my ragged fingers. I ignored the pain, pushing past it, determined to play through the song at least once. My voice joined the guitar’s harmony, not needing the scribbles on the pages, the song stamped onto my heart, onto my soul, raging to be released.
This was what I couldn’t give up, not even for the men who I was slowly falling for. I couldn’t give up the songs demanding to be born and set free. The music was an integral part of me and giving it up would change me, warp me, darken me. I couldn’t play and write happy and sappy love songs for the royals or the drunks or the overworked. Those songs meant nothing to me. I had to release the pain and emotion in me and the fluff songs didn’t cut it. I couldn’t bury the rage and hopelessness and discontent at our broken society. I wouldn’t.
And I would be grateful for the rest of my life and into whatever came after that I hadn’t been matched with kindreds who demanded I give it up. Instead I was matched with kindreds who would give up who and what they were for me.
I hoped they didn’t think I left them, deciding it was better for all of us if we went our separate ways. I was especially worried about Aster. After our night and following morning together, he might have thought I was running scared since I denied our connection for so long and with such determination. I never got the chance to tell him I wanted to be his kindred, and I wanted him to be mine.
Movement from Bastian’s study doorway caught my eye, and I turned my head to see him leaning with his back and one foot against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me.
The song drew to a close, and I set the guitar aside. “Am I bothering you?”
“Not at all. It was...” Bastian cleared his throat before he continued. “It was bloody gorgeous. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful. I felt every emotion in that song.”
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, my heart swelling and cheeks warming at his words. “Thank you. Being here has truly been wonderful for my ego.”
“I suppose it must be a large change from getting booed over rebellious songs.”
I snorted. “Very different.”
He pushed off the door and approached, sitting carefully beside me on the bed with slow movements like he was trying not to spook me. “How are your fingers?”
“They’re numb now.”
He took my left hand and turned it to lie in his palm. “It didn’t bleed through the bandage, so that’s a good sign.” He shook his head. “You really shouldn’t have played the guitar yet.”
I shrugged. “I’m just glad I can still use them.”
“You won’t be if they get infected.”
I tried to pull my hand away. “Stop fussing.”
He sniffed in offense, his grip tightening on my hand. “I never fuss.”
“Clearly.” He and Whist would definitely get along.
He set my hand back in my lap, his knuckles dragging against my thigh made my breath catch in my throat. His touch ignited flames low in my stomach and I tilted towards him, wanting more, craving more, needing more. My brain screamed at me to stop, to back up, to run, but my brain wasn’t currently in charge.
And neither was his.