Chapter 32 #2
“You can’t just …” She sits up, arms wrapping around herself. My eyes drift to the mark on her throat. My mark. “I can still feel it. It’s like there’s a rope tying me to you.”
“Fascinating.”
“Cairn!” My name on her lips is like fire in my blood.
“Moirthalen.”
“I don’t like it when you say that.”
My lips twitch. This, at least, is familiar. The push and pull that keeps her off-balance. This I know how to do.
“I know. That’s why I do it.”
She glares at me. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She lies down, turns away, and presents me with her back.
“I intend to.”
The silence that follows is loaded. Her anger slowly settles into a low simmer. She isn’t done. There’s a fire inside her that won’t allow her to leave it alone. She’ll try again. She won’t be able to help herself.
And when she does, I’ll deflect again, because the alternative is telling her the truth. That the magic is claiming her, that she’s being woven into the Nightwild Guard whether I want her there or not, and that the blood bond between us is becoming something I can’t control.
I glance around. Across the clearing, Therin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. He heard everything. Of course he did. I give him a look that promises pain. His grin only widens.
Settling back behind her, she stiffens when my arm returns to her waist, but she doesn’t fight. The night is cold, and I am warm, and she’s practical enough to take what’s offered even when she wants to strangle the source.
My lips twitch again, and I fall asleep filled with unwilling amusement at the thought of her angry enough to even attempt violence toward me.
Riding with her pressed against my back is a particular kind of torture that it wasn’t yesterday.
The bond hums between us, and now that she’s aware of it, I catch the way she’s testing the connection. Prodding at it like a sore tooth.
Her arms circle my waist, her thighs bracket mine, and her breasts press against my back.
Every shift of her body reminds me of how she felt beneath me, her legs wrapped around my hips, and her moans swallowed by my mouth.
I spend the entire morning half-hard and fighting the urge to drag her off Selveryn and finish what we started.
I call a stop at midday. I need to focus on the threads drawing me eastward, and I can’t do that with the distraction of the female pressed against my back.
Alleria dismounts and finds a flat rock at the edge of the clearing.
She sits with her back to us. I dismiss Selveryn.
Vel and Therin do the same, and they drop to the ground with sighs and groans.
“Do you remember when we did this all the time?” Therin says. “It shouldn’t hurt so much.”
Vel grunts. “We’ve been living in cages for too long. Our bodies need time to readjust to freedom.”
“I used to be able to ride for days without feeling it.” Therin stretches. “Now everything aches.”
“You were never that impressive.”
“Vel! You wound me.” He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Cairn, tell her I was impressive.”
I snort. “You were adequate.”
Therin laughs. A real laugh. Something I don’t think any of us have done in a long time.
Vel’s mouth twitches, just barely, but I catch it.
She’s been harder since we escaped, the weight of what was done to her sitting heavy on her shoulders.
But Therin has always been able to crack through her walls, either with humor or argument.
Her eyes drift to Alleria, who’s sitting to one side, nibbling on bread, and keeping her eyes lowered. The almost-smile fades.
Therin follows her gaze. “So …”
“Don’t.” I say.
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re about to.”
His mouth twitches. “I was just going to say that you seem … distracted.”
“Therin.”
“What? I have thoughts.”
“Keep them to yourself.”
He laughs again. Vel doesn’t. She takes a sip from her waterskin, and then looks at me. “Be careful, Eldráfn. This distraction could cost more than your freedom.”
I don’t reply. Alleria is listening, almost vibrating as she waits to see what I say … so I say nothing. Instead, I stand and walk over to her. She doesn’t look at me. I let the silence build.
She’s the first to break it.
“Therin called your mount Selveryn. What does it mean?”
“Moonwraith.” It costs nothing to give her the answer.
“What is it?”
“Our steeds exist between solid and spirit. They’re creatures of old magic. The name describes what they are.”
“Do the others have names?”
“Kaethros is Therin’s. Veylith is Vel’s.”
“What do they mean?”
“Kaethros translates to something like ‘shadow that hunts.’ Veylith—" I pause, searching for the right words. “Blood ember. The glow that remains after fire passes through flesh.”
She gives a small laugh. “That seems appropriate for Vel.”
Silence falls. I wait. She’s circling back to what she really wants to talk about. She’s been chewing on it all morning, the awareness of that connection sitting between us like a third presence.
“It’s still there. I can feel it when I concentrate.”
I say nothing.
“Like a thread … or a rope.” Her hand drifts to her chest, pressing against her sternum. “It pulls toward you.”
She’s describing the Nightwild bond. The blood bond sits deeper, tangled through both of us, but the Nightwild magic is what she’s feeling. The thread that wants to tie her to me the way Therin and Vel are tied. The one that will keep pulling until she accepts or rejects it.
“You’re not going to tell me what it is.”
“No.”
“Will you ever?”
I look at her, at the mark on her throat, and the way she’s watching me. She’s going to keep pushing at this until she gets answers.
The Nightwild magic tugs at me, demanding I seal the connection. The blood bond wants me to claim her properly. Make her mine in a way that can’t be undone.
I ignore both of them.
“Not today.”
Her mouth curves, ever so slightly. “That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes, either.”
She holds my gaze. There’s a challenge in her eyes now, something that wasn’t there before. She’s learning that I won’t bend or give her what she wants just because she asks. Instead of it making her more afraid, it’s making her dig in harder.
Interesting.
Unexpectedly, she laughs—a short, surprised sound that seems to escape before she can stop it. “You’re infuriating.”
I find myself wanting to make her do it again.
“So I’ve been told.”