14. Astraea
Chapter fourteen
Astraea
For the second time since the night in the dunes, Kyros and I wake up in a tangle of limbs.
Just like before, I don’t move right away.
My conscious mind comes back to me like it is trudging through loose sand as I take account of my body.
Slowly, I peel my eyes open. The scent that engulfs me is entirely Kyros.
The more time I spend with him, the more I find his scent on everything; even my own hair smells of him.
His breath flutters the hair on my nape, and my eyes tighten with how I relish the feel of it.
The feel of him and how his large arm curls around my body and holds my back flush with his chest. With his legs entangled with mine, only one other thing would make our scents intertwine more thoroughly than they already are.
Reflexively, I arch my back and freeze when doing so, as it leads to feeling myself brush against his rather hard and impressive length.
Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I bite back the moan that is choking me and urging me to roll my hips.
I can't do that again. There is still too much between us, and this sexual tension is only adding to the messiness of our—whatever it is we are.
He groans. The sound vibrates in my ear.
I can feel it immediately as a pulsing ache between my legs.
His muscles bunch, fingers splaying on my stomach and pulling my body closer to his.
He drives his nose into the loose strands of my hair, and he takes a deep breath.
His lips brush the shell of my ear, sending gooseflesh to pepper my skin, and in an agonizingly slow press, he thrusts his hips upward and my ass cradles his cock.
The feel of him everywhere has my heart in a galloping rhythm; my blood sings with a sudden burst of adrenaline.
It's wrong. I shouldn’t feel this deep pull to him.
Not after everything that he has kept from me.
Still, he is so close, yet not close enough.
I want more. I want him. My entire soul seems to demand it.
Just as I nearly succumb to the urge my body so desperately wants, Kyros softly kisses the skin beneath my ear before removing himself from the place behind me.
I clench my teeth, forcing myself from releasing the whimper that is trying to escape me in protest of his retreat.
The cool air rushes in between us, and I swallow hard as I try to calm my racing heart.
I don’t roll to face him but instead try to keep my body entirely too still.
If he knows I am awake, he doesn’t say as much.
He doesn’t say anything as he dresses, just eases the door open when he is finished and closes it behind him with a quiet click.
As soon as I sense he is gone, I roll over and take in the room.
My mind races with what I was about to allow myself to encourage.
Again. Right after telling myself it wouldn't happen.
This situation between me and Kyros is messy. It’s extremely complicated, and as much as I want to figure it all out… I feel as though it’s still not the most important thing we have on our plates at the moment. I think he senses that just as much, but clearly his willpower is stronger than mine.
When I stretch out on the bed, I notice that he has laid out fresh clothes for me.
All black, the same as the day before. A sleeveless tunic, cotton pants, and leather straps for my daggers.
Rolling my shoulders, I rub the sleep from my eyes with a yawn and get dressed.
It’s getting easier seeing myself like this this time, and to be honest, I’m starting to like it.
Cole was right when she said it was freeing. It was—is freedom.
Lifting my chin, I look at my reflection in the mirror. I am the same woman who has looked back through it every day of my life, but I am also incredibly different. Stronger in so many ways. I can feel myself becoming more. More confident, vocal, and ready to take my life into my own hands.
My thoughts, here in this new world, are all my own. I don’t have my father or his righteous followers watching over my every move. I am able to actually become my own person now. The idea alone makes my chest fill with a little more air than usual, and when I release it, I feel a little lighter.
Sliding the daggers into the leather straps that wrap around my ribs, I give myself one more glance before heading from the room in search of Kyros.
It doesn’t take long to find him. He sits with his back to me, his hands cradling his head with his elbows resting on his knees.
He looks weary and even more stressed than before.
Right as I am about to clear my throat to make myself known, he turns in his chair and our eyes lock.
“Hi,” I say, heat instantly rising to my cheeks.
“Good morning, Shula,” Kyros says. His eyes, intense as ever, rake down my body before I watch the muscle under his now more grown-out facial hair.
He makes eye contact again, sending another flush to deepen the heat to my face before he finally tears his gaze away.
The black Tsalalerian blade he took from the pirates at the Dead Sea lies across the long dining table in its scabbard.
When he stands, he runs two fingers along its hilt before gripping it and securing it to his hip.
“I assume we are going to be training now?” I ask, turning toward the large window that overlooks the forest and mountains in the distance.
The sun is just rising beyond its peaks.
I'm honestly surprised that I was able to sleep at all last night, considering how I slept nearly the whole day before.
But the way my head was pounding after the nightmare I had, my body took pity on me and let me drift off into a dreamless sleep.
My gaze sweeps the room. There is no sign of the old dweller anywhere to be found. It is still early; perhaps she is still sleeping. When I hear movement behind me, I turn to see what Kyros is doing.
“I was hoping we could have breakfast before we head out. There are more than a few things we need to talk about, don’t you think?
” He slides a plate of food onto the table in front of one of the chairs.
Diagonally from this one at the head of the table, another place setting is already waiting.
Had that been there this whole time, or am I completely oblivious to my surroundings around this man?
But as soon as I see the plate of steaming food, I notice the scent that is wafting from it.
Had I really not noticed anything? Divine.
I swallow and nod, slowly crossing the room to where he waits.
I can do this.
I can talk about all of this; reopen wounds that have not yet stopped bleeding. And the new ones are self-inflicted.
I can—Kyros pulls the chair out as I come to stand next to him. As soon as I am close enough, he reaches up and tucks a loose hair behind my ear. My eyes fall closed. My brows pull downward too as I try hard to cast away the tears that are beginning to form.
Sitting down has never felt so hard before.
Kyros pushes the chair in behind me, and when I settle, he takes his seat.
The food looks amazing. Fresh. Steaming meat, eggs, and potatoes.
Strawberries and blueberries that are ripe and vibrant with color.
He slides a fork to me, and I lift it at the same time my eyes meet his.
I can’t do this.
“When I was a child, my mother always told Mavros and me that there were never to be decisions made on an empty stomach. She was a smart woman who had an affinity for people. She was kind and compassionate; I didn’t see it much at the time.
I was young and overlooked such things. But now, I see how it was for this reason she was loved by so many.
” Kyros ponders this for a moment, looking somewhere far off over my shoulder when he does.
Remembering the woman that my father took from him.
I had heard stories—whispered ones that would get people killed by the king for treason if they had been heard by the wrong people. They spoke very highly of the Queen, Evren Ruvaen. It was tragic that the world lost a woman such as her; even I could see that.
“Mavros gets his charisma from her. He looks more like her too. The light eyes and paler skin were from her, but it was me who took her dark hair.” Kyros and Mavros are not Kahzal; they are of the royal lineage Ruvaen.
I blink at the small truth he’s giving me, watching as he stares down into the wood planks of the table for a moment before sighing.
“Anyway, the point is… This conversation is not one that is easy, and you should be fed properly for it, so I made you breakfast. When we—”
“You made this?” I ask dubiously, looking between the delicious plate of food and up to the man in front of me, suddenly nervous.
Knowing who this man is and the hardness he shows the world.
Seeing this side of him makes those wings in my chest flutter.
So often I looked at the remnants of the Ruvaen royals all around the palace and wished I could be a part of their family instead of the one I was born into.
And now, one of the last of the Ruvaen line sits before me, offering me food that he prepared himself and is now openly speaking of his mother—who my father killed. I remind myself. He eyes me confused.
“Of course I did. I told you, I take care of—” He stops short, but I finish his sentence in my head: what is mine.
“Yes. I made the food, and Kaeleith brought the berries in fresh this morning. She is out in the garden again. She likes to spend most of her time there, you’ll come to find.
” He slides a knife over to me and then picks up his utensils and begins cutting into the food he is now scowling down at.
“Thank you,” I finally say. It seems to ease some of the tension I see holding his shoulders high.
I take my first bite, and my eyes nearly roll into the back of my head.
The meal from last night was good. And I know good food because the palace always had the best, but this meat melts in my mouth.
The flavor mixes with the egg and diced potatoes so deliciously, I have to stop myself from moaning.
It is so good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I nearly choke on the food that I’m cramming into my mouth.
Kyros pushes a goblet of water toward me, and I look up to see an amused glint in his eyes and a slight pull at the corner of his mouth.
“Good?” He asks, and I can’t help it; I laugh. Covering my mouth with the back of my hand causes the slight smirk on Kyros’ face to bloom into something bigger.
“Great divine,” I cough as he hands me a cloth to wipe my face. “I’m sorry,” I say behind the napkin. “I didn’t realize it would be so good.” I say, still surprised that he made this. He takes another bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully, but his gaze never pulls away from me.
“You never need to apologize for letting me take care of you.” Then, unexpectedly, his eyes and brow drop. I try to read the expression he attempts to hide. Another one I don’t recognize, making it harder to discern, but I see the pain trying to break through.
“Because we are twin flames? You are my mate. Aren’t you?
” The words spill from my mouth. Each one solidifies and weighs heavy between us.
I didn’t even need to ask the question. I’ve tried to ask before, but fear had held me back.
I think I’ve known for a while, but I feel the need to have him confirm it.
His black eyes are intense as they slowly rise and burrow into mine.
I can tell he is trying to read how I feel about this revelation before he swallows.
His tongue juts out from his mouth, wetting his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.
He sets his utensil down beside his plate before leaning forward, his hand seeming to reach toward me without thought.
“I think I have known since the moment I laid eyes on you, but I was too confused to understand. When I finally figured it out, I was pissed off at the fates for giving me a mate who, at the time, I thought was the enemy. It was a curse, upon a lifetime of curses.” He says, lightly trembling fingers curling into a fist on the table between us.
My gaze stays locked there. On his hand, the emotion he holds is clenched so tightly.
I have stopped breathing as I wait for him to continue.
There has to be more to it than that. “But now, I see it for what it really is…” I can’t see.
The lack of oxygen has made all light cease to exist within my eyes.
I knew. At least I thought I knew, anyway.
His words echo, sounding further away as my mind spirals on what he said.
This is only confirmation of what I already had floating around in my head.
But why does hearing his confession hurt so badly?
My ribs ache as my heart peers out of its cage.
He knew all along. Why will my lungs not fill with fucking air?
My heart pounds against my ribs; a prisoner within the confines of my chest, and it wants so badly to escape.
I need to escape. He knew, but I didn’t make the connection.
He has known all this time, and still, he chose to keep everything he has from me.
He knew.
I can no longer feel any of the jagged pieces of my heart.
Not when I feel as though my soul is what is shattering.
He is still talking, but I am deaf from my own fury.
The pounding in my ears only intensifies when he finally unclenches his fist. With a shaky hand, he reaches out his fingertips, barely brushing mine where it lies splayed on the table.
I use both hands to push myself away from the table.
Away from this conversation, the motion making the chair screech against the worn wood floor.
His hand wraps around my wrist, but I jerk it out of his grasp.
Our eyes clash as the silence is devoured by the thundering muscle in my chest. Then I turn, storming from the cabin without a backward glance.