CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE #4
“We didn’t have anything until less than a week ago,” he shot back. “You do remember that, don’t you? We’re not lovers, Ilain. We’re betrothed because I love you, and you need me. That’s it. It isn’t fair of you to demand something of me that I’m not ready to give.”
Applause erupted as the Hammerfist won, raising his giant fists in the air.
A short break was called for the victor’s recovery, and Ethenn tugged Ilain farther away from the crowd, which headed for refills of their tankards at the bar.
Standing before the fireplace, he felt as though his whole body was on fire despite the smallest prickle of cold magic lingering at his core.
Ilain stared at him, silent and oddly reserved.
With a sigh, Ethenn released her but remained close. “We were advised to wait,” he whispered. “By your brother, the colonel, and the bloody leader of your government. Do you not understand?”
“Of course I understand,” Ilain said sharply.
“I’m a woman trained in politics. That is who I am.
I understand that our marriage is a beneficial arrangement, as I understand that the Alliance worries that if we consummate our marriage, I’ll be too heartbroken if you die to marry another.
I understand that my brother is protective and that Jonn presumes to know us based on the personas we’ve provided him.
I fully comprehend the nuances of our relationship.
What I don’t understand is your utterly baffling behavior. ”
His brow furrowed, but she kept going. “You tell me you love me, and yet you don’t want to touch me even though I ask you to?” she said the words like an accusation. “How am I supposed to interpret that? What understanding would you like me to have of your feelings toward me, husband?”
Blood thrummed through Ethenn’s veins, pumping loudly in his ears. He stepped forward until their faces were inches from one another. “I can’t touch you,” he hissed. “Not when I don’t know what it will do to me.”
Ilain blinked rapidly. “What do you mean?”
“Magic does things to me—it changes me. And when we touch, it gets worse.”
She sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t speak under his intense stare, so he continued, “Haven’t you learned by now, Ilain?
I’m a killer,” he said softly so only she could hear his words.
“Magic heightens that part of me. You heighten that. Sleeping beside you is torture. Kissing you, touching you . . . I can’t trust myself with it. ”
“We’re husband and wife,” she said matter-of-factly.
He dipped his chin.
“You’ll have to touch me eventually.”
“Not until I’ve figured out how to control what magic does to me.”
She scoffed nervously. “You aren’t afraid you’ll kill me, are you?”
“No,” he assured her quickly. “No, I just—I don’t know what magic will drive me to do.”
A look of clarity crossed her face, and Ilain drew back in understanding. “It’s why you didn’t want to be a Warrior,” she realized.
The announcer called for the Hammerfist and the Slayer to begin the last fight.
Unsteadily, Ethenn pulled in a breath. Then he reached up and cupped Ilain’s face in both of his hands.
He brushed his thumbs across her knife-sharp cheekbones, pulling her closer.
Her bright green eyes flickered between his expectantly.
“I’m going to win a damn bed for you to sleep in tonight,” he said, and then he kissed her. Sharp, deep, and passionate. He heard catcalls from the crowd awaiting his entrance to the ring, but he ignored them.
Ilain melted under his caress. Shivers spiraled across his skin, his magic soaring at the feel of her.
His muscles trembled with anticipation. His split lip stung against hers, but he refused to pull away, soaking up as much of her magical influence as possible.
The room burned to life; light, color, sound, taste, and smell intensified.
He could feel the very wood grain beneath his feet.
Every sense snapped like overheated firewood.
A coolness settled over his mind, priming him for action.
Ethenn released Ilain, barely ensuring that she was stable before striding to the fighting ring.
At the side, Rafferty and Thom watched them and sniggered together.
Brea pursed her lips, watching with amusement.
Deckard kept his gaze averted while Evylin smirked.
The Calder brothers pointedly avoided looking at them, but Isla gave him an encouraging nod.
Ethenn ignored them all. He stepped in front of Aangus the Hammerfist. He was tall, and his bare chest rippled with muscle. One blow from him would hurt twice as much as the Bludger’s. If Ethenn wasn’t quick, he’d wind up with more than bruises and a split lip.
“Ready?” the announcer asked. At Ethenn and the Hammerfist’s nods, he proclaimed, “Fight!”
With magic pounding in his veins, Ethenn charged. He knocked back the Hammerfist’s defense, dodged a sly punch, then threw his fist into his opponent’s jaw.
The Hammerfist spun, jaw slack, and fell face-first to the floor.
Ethenn looked straight at the barkeep. “About that room?”