Runebreaker

Chapter 31 Only One Bed

ONLY ONE BED

Soren’s footsteps vanished, and I finally breathed.

Kairos’s shoulder brushed mine as he moved to a low table. He threw himself in the chair, legs spread wide. Then he grabbed a dark blue bottle, his hand dwarfing the glass.

He yanked the stopper free with his teeth, spat it aside, and drank from the neck. The column of his throat worked as he tipped his head and guzzled the spirits. His lips glistened. Gods, he was distracting. Even while drinking.

I approached him. “Can I have some of that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He set the bottle down, the crystal singing. “You need your wits about you. I need to be numb.”

I shifted, uncomfortable. Was pretending to be with me that painful?

He glared at me, drinking. Strands of silver-white hair came loose from his tie, falling across his face. It softened him. I wanted to brush it back.

“Kairos.”

He ignored me, bringing the bottle to his lips again.

I crossed the room and reached for the crystal. His hand clamped around it, holding firm even as I tugged. Our fingers overlapped, his scarred knuckles pressed against mine. His hands were massive. Rough. I thought about them on my waist, in my hair, and I bit on my lip.

“Let go.”

His eyes blazed. “No.”

I jerked harder, but he didn’t budge. “You can’t sit here and drown yourself in spirits.”

“Yes, I can.” His grip tightened. “You have the rarest ability in the world, and I brought you to the one place where I can’t protect you.”

My breath caught.

“Do you understand that?” he said, strained. “If any of them figures out what you can do, I can’t use my magic. I can’t do a damned thing except watch.”

The bottle trembled slightly.

“So forgive me,” he muttered, “if I have to take the edge off.”

My fingers slipped over his. “We’ll survive this.”

He pulled away from me, still glowering. “If you’re not more careful, it’s all over.”

“What about you?” I huffed, crossing my arms. “You have all the subtlety of a flying axe. Would it kill you to fawn a little?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you want from me?”

“Act like you care! Soren is watching us, and all you’ve done is grunt and scowl.”

He scowled. “I’m protecting you.”

“By acting like you can barely stand to be near me?”

“Maybe I can’t.”

Fine. If that’s how he felt, then fine.

“You’re angry. I get it. This is hard for both of us. But we’re stuck in this room together, so we should calm down before we say things we can’t take back.”

He drank.

I sighed. “That’s not going to help.”

He took another long swallow.

This wasn’t about tolerating my presence. He was terrified. Was it just because I was valuable?

I sat beside him, sighing. Behind him, a stingray glided in the glass, its wings undulating like silk.

“I’ve never seen anything so…magical.”

Kairos huffed. “You’ve hardly explored Sanguir.”

“I’m sorry. Do you have stingrays the size of carriages drifting past your windows?”

“No, we have turquoise rivers that glow beneath moonlight,” he grumbled with what sounded like wounded pride. “Hidden hot springs where dryads sing. Old forests where trees whisper secrets to those who listen. Not all beauty needs to glitter, my princess.”

Like him.

Kairos didn’t flash court-trained smiles. He prowled. Towered. Moved like violence barely leashed. Even brooding and half-drunk, he looked dangerous. I shouldn’t have found that wildly attractive.

I traced the line of his thighs, the casual grip of his scarred fingers on the glass, the way his chest rose and fell beneath that half-unlaced shirt. Dangerous. So gods-damned dangerous, and I wanted to climb into his lap anyway.

There was something magnetic in his rawness. He didn’t soften himself to be palatable. Didn’t care who was watching. Beneath the feral edge was a steadiness that made me feel safe—and a male who still noticed beauty in the world after a hundred years of chains.

With Kairos, there were no games. But that same honesty terrified me because when he looked at me like I mattered, I felt it inside me. A tightness. I’d never had that before.

I swallowed.

He took another drink. “I don’t like faking. It’s not who I am.”

“I know.”

“I’d rather walk up to Vaeris and cut his head off.”

“You can’t always cut people’s heads off.”

He seemed troubled by that, his brow furrowing.

I bit on my lip. “I have an idea.”

“What?” he grunted.

“We’ll take turns asking each other questions. If you don’t want to answer, you drink.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Trying to get me drunk?”

I grasped the bottle, and he relinquished his grip. Then I poured some into a cup. “I’ll go first. Have you ever lost a fight?”

“Of course. In Caelir, you bleed until you learn. They don’t coddle children there. They throw you in the ring until you can’t stand. If you can’t rise again, you don’t deserve to.”

“That’s how they teach their own?”

“Not teach. Cull.” The amber flame in his eyes dimmed. “Every father wants a child strong enough to survive. Losing was…expected. Until you were the last one getting up.”

The words lodged in my throat. I wanted to ask if he remembered their faces, but the hard set of his jaw told me the answer.

His gaze sharpened. “My turn. How did you meet Vaeris?”

I sighed.

“Truth or drink,” he said softly.

I put the cup down, the liquid trembling. “Two years ago. At the market. Rheya and I were starving. I was…rooting through trash. Fae use runes to lock their bins.”

His smile turned grim.

“He caught me. He was glamoured to look like a merchant. I thought he’d call for guards. Instead, he gave me his purse. Enough to feed us for weeks.”

He lifted his glass and drained it.

“He kept coming back after that,” I went on, my voice growing brittle. “Bars, brothels, anywhere safe. He…helped me. In small ways. I thought—I thought he loved me.”

The word tasted like ash.

Kairos poured again. Slammed the bottle down.

“He said we’d never be together. That the court would laugh at him for taking a human mistress.” I studied my hands. “They already looked down on him for being half.”

Kairos scoffed. “He’s a coward, and you deserved better.”

“Have you ever loved anyone?”

“I’ve had lovers,” he said with a shine that I hated. “More than I can count. The passion burns hot, then dies cold, but I never cared enough to make it last.”

“Maybe you’ve never met someone worth keeping.”

His mouth twitched. “You sound like you’re volunteering.”

I swallowed hard. “What if I was? Would I be another flame that dies?”

“No.”

Zero hesitation. Just—no.

My heart pounded. “You answered that quickly.”

He stared at me. “Yes.”

“You didn’t even think about it. What does that mean?”

His knuckles had gone white around the drink.

“Kairos. Why not?”

His lips parted. His eyes held mine, glazing over with some emotion.

Then he lifted his cup and drank.

He couldn’t drop that on me. My thoughts scrambled. Why wouldn’t I be yet another lover?

Kairos refilled his cup. “My turn. What happened between you and him?”

My stomach knotted. The spirits burned as I tipped the glass back instead of answering.

He smiled sadly. “Then tell me this—what do you dream of?”

I glared at my cup. “I don’t know.”

“You must think about the future.”

“I’d like to not worry about food for a while. To have a place where no one can find us. Somewhere Rheya and I can exist without looking over our shoulders.”

“That’s survival, not a dream.”

My cheeks flushed. “You can afford to dream. I hope that I’ll make it through winter and have enough coin for medicine when either of us gets sick.”

“Take a moment and think about it.”

“No. Why torture myself about things that will never happen?”

“What can’t you have?”

Love.

Heat rushed to my face as I traced the rim of my glass with my finger. “I want to stop hurting and not feel like something inside me is broken.”

“You’re not broken.”

“I need to understand what I am. Why I can do what I do. If there’s a reason I can break runes or if it’s…meaningless.”

He leaned forward. “And?”

“And I want—I want someone to see all of me and still think I’m worth keeping.”

Kairos dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes saying everything he couldn’t. For once, I’d knocked him completely off balance.

He inhaled a deep breath. “Aelie—”

“My turn,” I blurted. “What happened to your wings?”

He grabbed the cup. Then he tipped it, drinking deep. When he set the glass down, he didn’t look away. He just sat there, breathing hard.

“I’m done,” I murmured.

“We should go to bed.”

“I need to change. Can you, um, turn around?”

Kairos hauled himself upright, passing close to me as he crossed to the window.

I fumbled with the clasp at my back, the rustle of silk deafening. Get undressed. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Need help?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” I tugged at the clasp. “Ouch.”

My finger scraped against metal. I tried again, twisting to reach it. I exhaled roughly. Then a cool whisper teased my spine as his mist worked, like invisible fingers tracing my skin.

“Kairos,” I whispered.

“It’s just my magic.”

“Then why does it feel like your hands?”

“My magic is an extension of me.”

The tendrils stroked me as they peeled the fabric down my arms. My waist. The dress pooled in a blanket of fog, then floated toward the closet.

I needed to cover myself. Now.

I knelt, fumbling through my bag. Where was it? There—the nightdress. I yanked it out and stood, pulling it over my head. The dress settled over my body.

Gods, it clung everywhere. It might’ve been painted on. The neckline hung low between my breasts. The hem barely reached mid-thigh. It was worse than being naked.

What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I bring something else?

Kairos turned. His eyes dragged up from my bare thighs over the curve of my hips. He pulled off his mantle, dropping it to the floor. Then he unbuttoned his tunic, revealing a strip of pale muscle.

My mouth went dry.

He shrugged the tunic off, and it flowed down his powerful shoulders. Runes ribboned across his chest, his ribs—every inch of him ink, scars, and power.

His hands went to his waist. Then he glanced up and caught me staring. Kairos watched me, still gripping his belt. He didn’t break eye contact as his fingers worked the buckle. The leather slid, a whisper on my skin.

His belt hit the ground. Then his hands dropped to his waistband. I stared, mesmerized by the shift of muscles as he pushed the fabric down.

The trousers fell.

I whirled around, pulse racing. It was like someone had cracked me open and poured liquid fire inside. I ran to the bed, slipping under the covers.

Moments later, the mattress dipped. It shifted again as he slipped under the blankets. Oh gods. He was there. Inches from me. I dug my nails into my palms. Breathed evenly through my nose.

I peeked.

No. Don’t.

Kairos lay on his back, the blanket pooled below his chest. One hand rested on his stomach, the other behind his head. His face tipped toward the ceiling.

The ache wouldn’t stop. Breathing was too hard. The silk nightdress clung, reminding me of how exposed I was. I could hear him breathing. Slow. Even. Fighting for control.

Tomorrow, I’d walk into that court and make everyone believe we were lovers, but the real charade was happening right here.

Pretending I didn’t want him, that his warm body wasn’t close. Pretending I wouldn’t give anything to close the distance. To nestle into his arms and taste his mouth. To feel his hands on me the way they’d been in the forest.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but I lay in the darkness, burning.