Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Rabin nodded, sensing a small victory with that response. It wasn’t a flat-out no anymore.
“Why do you care so much about my father and I reconciling?” Zarya asked. “Does he mean so much to you?”
He blew out a breath and took a long sip of his drink before placing it on the table. Abishek’s demands that he break things off with Zarya cycled through his thoughts. During the flight to Gi’ana, he’d weighed and considered them from every side, but the moment he saw Zarya, he knew resistance would be futile.
He’d never defied his mentor’s wishes before, and he hoped Abishek would forgive him for this offense. The king was simply being protective, and Rabin understood it and even appreciated it, but he couldn’t let her go.
“Shall I tell you how we met?” he asked her.
“Yes. Please.”
He inhaled a deep breath and prepared to relive this ache buried in the meat of his past. “I already told you how much my father hated me and the thing I am,” he said, and she nodded, fire brimming in her dark eyes.
He recalled the moment when she’d first noticed that awful, jagged scar on his back. She’d vowed vengeance for him, and that might have been the moment when he’d fallen in love with her. He hated anyone’s pity, but he never saw that when she looked at him. What he saw was anger and rage, and he liked that. Anger and rage were emotions he understood, emotions he could work with.
“About twenty years ago, I’d returned home after a skirmish against Gi’ana,” he said. “Though our territory was well established after the Khetara Wars over a hundred years ago, we still experienced an occasional bit of blowback. We headed out to mount a counterattack against a piece of land they were attempting to take for themselves.
“It wasn’t far from here, in fact. They destroyed a sacred fairy grove of enchanted trees that grew only in that specific spot. Their leaves were known for their healing properties, and the flowers could be used for dozens of powerful tinctures. They salted the earth so that nothing could ever grow there again. I don’t know if they truly understood what they’d done, only hoping to deliver a crushing blow to Daragaab. The result was heartbreaking.”
Zarya’s eyes grew wide as he spoke.
“So we invaded one of their most hallowed libraries,” he said. “We honor the earth and its abundance, while Gi’ana cares about knowledge. So we hit them where it hurts and came away with some of the most valuable magical texts in Rahajhan as our spoils.”
“The Jai Palace library,” Zarya said, already picking up on the thread of his tale. “The restricted section? That’s what’s in there?”
“Yes,” he said. “They were stored there under lock and key and a bit of complicated magic.”
She blinked and nodded. “And then what?”
“When I returned home, my presence went entirely unacknowledged, but…”
He trailed off, and Zarya reached out a hand and laid it on his arm. He shivered at the warmth of her touch.
“But I learned that he had abused my mother in my absence. A guest had been praising my victories at the dinner table, and he couldn’t bear to hear it, so he sought her out and struck her just for being my mother.”
“Fuck, I hate that asshole,” she whispered, which almost made him want to smile.
“I let my temper get the best of me, and we argued. I returned the blow with a punch to his jaw, but I should have known better. It was rash and impulsive, and I had no power there. I was surrounded by his guards in his house, and I didn’t get far.
“I was tossed into a cell and left to starve for weeks. The only time they came to see me was to beat me black and blue before they’d leave me lying in a heap of shattered bones.”
Zarya gasped, her face growing pale.
“They claimed no one knew where I was, and everyone had assumed I’d left. I didn’t know if it was true at the time, but I’ve since learned they believed it. So I decided that was my chance to, in fact, leave once and for all.”
Rabin stopped speaking and gathered the pieces of himself, trying to push past the hurt and anger that had consumed him through those days. He was growing and healing, but there were moments when he still retreated into the darkness of those moments. When it felt like there was no way out.
“It took every ounce of my strength, and I don’t know how I accomplished it, but desperation makes us do desperate things. I managed to force a transformation as they entered my cell, causing our surroundings to crumble due to my size. I fried them all to ash, and then I burst out and flew myself to freedom.
“My limbs ached, and my wings hurt so much that I didn’t get far at first. I had to rest every few miles, but I was determined to get as far away from Daragaab as possible. I was so weak and broken, and finally, I came to a stop at the base of the mountains along the border of Andhera. Near death, I had given up, and I lay in the cold and waited for it to take me away.”
Zarya squeezed his hand tighter and tighter as he spoke. “And?” she asked on a breathless whisper.
“And Abishek found me. His scouts noticed me lying on the ice, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by his people. I was too weak and hungry to turn back, so they hauled food out, dragging it across the mountains until I was strong enough to shift into my rakshasa form. Then they brought me to the palace where I spent weeks healing from my injuries.”
He stopped again, looking away from the distant spot where he’d been staring to meet Zarya’s gaze.
“When I woke up, Abishek was there, and I didn’t disgust him. He was fascinated, and he was the first person in my life who encouraged me to appreciate my gifts. He gave me the courage to finally embrace who I was. So you see, I owe him my life.”
He watched a thousand emotions cross Zarya’s face as his thumb swept over the back of her hand.
“I’m so sorry that happened,” she answered. “And I’m glad that he was there to help you.” She shook her head as she let go of his arm and leaned back. “Perhaps…I’ve misjudged things.”
“You had no way of knowing,” he said. “You only had the information offered to you.”
She nodded, casting her gaze towards the window, to the same place he’d just been looking, seeking north as though she could see over the miles separating them from her father.
“There’s something else you should know,” he said. Though he’d considered keeping this to himself, he’d also learned his lesson and wouldn’t make the same mistakes with her again.
“What is it?”
“Before I left, your father suggested I break things off with you in terms of a romantic relationship.”
Zarya blinked with confusion. “Why?”
He ran through all of Abishek’s reasons, leaving out the part where the king had called him weak in spirit. The comment had hurt, and he wasn’t sure he could be that vulnerable in front of anyone.
“I think in his own way, it’s because he cares about both of us,” he said. “And I confess I did think about not sharing this just yet only because I didn’t want you to choose me out of spite, but I promised there would be no more secrets between us.”
She snorted a dry laugh. “That does sound like something I might do.”
He offered her a small smile as he waited for her reaction.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “But he doesn’t make those choices for me. No one does.”
“I feel the same,” he answered. “He’s being protective as is his way, but nothing would keep me from you if you’ll have me.”
She blew out a long breath and ran her fingers through her ponytail. She was quiet for a moment before she said, “I need to talk to Row before I consider a visit to Andhera.”
Rabin dipped his chin.
“I understand that. Whatever you need.”
Zarya gave him a soft smile before she looked out the window one more time. Rabin’s story about the Andheran king sounded nothing like the monster she’d expected. But surely even the worst people could be good from time to time.
“Yasen told me a story he’d heard,” she said. “About Abishek killing vanshaj. Many of them.”
“More lies, Zarya. I’ve been there for twenty years. I would have seen it if something like that was going on.”
“But why?”
“Fear. Abishek has always been powerful. Anyone he might call a ‘friend’ is only out of political necessity, and he can be difficult. He tends to make a lot of enemies who stir up rumors to discredit him. The nobles of Andhera despise the fact they can’t control him. They see how much power and influence the nobility hold in other realms, and it makes them act out in petty ways. But he isn’t evil.”
She could understand that to an extent. Being unlikable didn’t equate to being bad.
“You don’t use vanshaj in your household,” she said.
His eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to know,” she said, flipping her fork over and over in a nervous gesture. Rabin had shared what he’d been up to all these months, and soon, he’d expect her to reciprocate. Could she trust him with the secrets of the Rising Phoenix?
“Why should I want to use people who have no choice or say in the matter? It’s…inhumane.”
She studied him for a long second, realizing how aligned they were in so many ways.
He reached for a silver dish on the cart next to him a moment later. “Dessert?”
“Sure,” she said as they settled into easy conversation about less harrowing topics. When they were done, Zarya sat back and rubbed her stomach.
“I’m so full I could burst,” she declared.
He leaned forward and planted an elbow on the table. “Maybe we should indulge in a little exercise to work it off?”
The innuendo was obvious, and she narrowed her eyes. “You said we were taking things slow.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.” His mouth stretched into a cat-like grin.
“Well, I haven’t,” she said, though that was kind of a lie. Still, she could make him work for it at least a little more.
He shrugged. “Then how about a duel?”
He swept out an arm, taking in the weapons surrounding them.
“Another duel? Is that why you brought me here?”
He offered another lift of his shoulder. “It does always seem to bring out a certain fire in you.”
She felt her cheeks heat at the suggestion, but he was absolutely right.
“I’m wearing a dress,” she said.
“So take it off.”
She arched a brow at him. “Nice try.”
He chuckled. “Fine. I’ll make you a deal. You can choose what I wear.”
Zarya tipped her head. “Anything?”
“Anything.” His eyes gleamed with challenge.
“Take off the shirt,” she said, and without hesitation, he pulled it over his head and dropped it on the floor.
“Like what you see?” he asked with a cocky smile, sitting back and spreading his legs as he ran his palms over his powerful thighs. Yes, of course, she did. The man was all abs and chest and shoulders. He was absolutely breathtaking. If he asked, she’d probably willingly fall to her knees and run her tongue along every chiseled groove of his stomach. Maybe even if he didn’t.
She shrugged. “You’re all right.”
He laughed softly again. “Is that all? What about my pants?” He snapped his waistband as she narrowed her eyes.
“You keep those on,” she ordered. “I was just trying to even the field.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
He jumped up from his chair and retrieved two polished swords from a nearby rack. “Catch.”
He tossed her one, and she caught it by the hilt as he spun around and approached with his shoulders curved like a panther stalking prey. Zarya kicked off her shoes and gathered her skirt in one hand as she readied her stance.
He grinned before they circled, sizing one another up.
“Ready to lose again?” Zarya taunted, and Rabin grinned.
“You lost the first time,” he said, reminding her of the garden when he’d read the passages from her book.
“I was only pretending to give up,” she said.
“And in the mind plane?” Rabin asked. “Who won there?”
“You know very well I was the one on top.”
She almost winced, realizing how that sounded.
“I have no issues with that,” he said, and then he swung.
But Zarya was ready. She blocked his sword with hers, the sound echoing in the large room. She countered, bringing her blade down as he knocked it aside. Zarya danced on her toes with a grin as their swords met again. Neither was taking this entirely seriously, so Zarya chose to test him and feinted before she swiped out and nicked his bare shoulder.
A tiny trickle of blood oozed down the swell of his bicep, forcing the mood in the room to shift. He stared down at it and then at her, challenge burning in his gaze.
“Is that how it’s going to be, Spitfire?”
She smirked. “This was your idea.”
He gave her no warning as he lunged, bringing his sword down. She blocked it at the last second before they became a whirl of movement, parrying back and forth as they maneuvered around the massive ballroom.
He thrust, and she slid left, barely avoiding the attack before she spun and struck out, catching the side of his blade with a clang. She was growing warm now, sweat trickling between her breasts. That line of blood down his arm seemed to taunt her with a sense of danger and intrigue. Why did fighting him always awaken such violent desire?
She couldn’t help but admire how he moved as his muscles bunched and shifted. Normally, hidden beneath his armor, he was like watching poetry in motion. She was so absorbed in ogling him that a sharp slice of pain a moment later shocked her out of her reverie. She looked down to see he’d cut her thigh, a thin line of crimson cresting against the surface.
“You bastard,” she hissed, and then, with a roar, they clashed, circling around the room as their blades moved so fast they became a blur. Rabin lunged and circled her blade, knocking it from her hand. It went flying with a clatter, and before she could recover, he snagged her around her waist and placed a dagger at her throat.
“Where did you get a dagger?” she snapped with a sharp intake of breath.
“Should’ve told me to take off my pants.”
She huffed as his arm tightened around her. She wasn’t afraid. She was almost certain he wasn’t planning to slit her throat. In fact, finding herself trapped in his arms and helpless like this made her thighs clench as heat rushed through her limbs.
“You love drawing my blood,” he cooed in a low voice.
She struggled against him. “Kind of.”
He brushed his nose against the shell of her ear and whispered into her skin, “I like it, too.”
Her breath grew tight as his hand slid across her stomach. He walked her back until he collapsed onto a bench against the wall, taking her down with him, tucking her between his spread legs with the dagger’s blade still biting her skin.
“If I pressed a little harder. Drew more blood. Would that turn you on, Spitfire?”
“I… no…”
He laughed low and dark. “I think you’re lying.”
Then she felt the knife’s sharp pressure and a warm trickle slide down her neck. With his free hand, he swiped up the drop and then sucked it off the tip of his finger. Her stomach swooped as a pulse throbbed between her thighs.
She’d definitely been lying.
“Every part of you tastes like heaven,” he growled as he pulled her tighter towards him, where she felt the hard evidence of his cock against her ass. Then his hand returned to her stomach. “Do you still want to take things slow?”
“That was also your idea,” she said as his hand slid lower, coming to a stop just above the slit in her skirt.
“Never listen to me,” he murmured as his fingers dipped under the fabric. Almost involuntarily, her legs widened in invitation. He rumbled in approval as his fingers brushed the aching wet spot over her underwear.
She whimpered as he delivered light touches that were already driving her mad. “Rabin,” she snarled, and he chuckled against her ear as he did another sweep that made her legs tremble in response.
She was consciously aware of the knife still pressed against her throat but decided she liked it there. Something about feeling like his prey did scandalous things to her insides.
He then reached under her knee and hooked her leg over his thigh, spreading her wide.
“How’s this, Spitfire?” he asked as his fingers danced along the inside of her thigh. She couldn’t quite form syllables into words, a sharp exhale of breath sticking in her throat. Slowly, his hand worked up the inside of her leg, once again finding the thin fabric covering her aching center.
He lifted a hand and she watched in fascination as his fingers swirled with black smoke before they morphed into a set of sharp dragon claws. Her eyes widened. She had no idea he could do that. Then, in a flash of movement, he shredded her underwear before his fingers returned to normal once again.
“Oh my gods,” she breathed, unable to contain herself. A cool breeze brushed against her wetness, and then, finally, his finger slid along the crease before he circled her clit with a thick finger.
“Fucking dripping for me,” he murmured.
She huffed out a breathless laugh as she felt the edge of the blade bite into her skin. He seemed to realize it because he asked, “Do you want me to take it away?”
“No.” The word slipped out, and she could practically feel his approval.
“That’s my girl.”
He then pushed his finger inside of her as she gasped, her head tipping against him as he used his thumb to circle her clit while he pumped in and out. She felt him add a second finger, the sensation stretching and filling her as he curled them in, eliciting a whimper as she felt her release already climbing.
She clung to his thigh, her fingers digging into hard muscle as he continued pumping into her, driving his fingers deep before he circled her clit with her own release, as her stomach tightened and her fingertips tingled.
“Hold still,” he whispered. “You don’t want to cut yourself.”
She moaned as he continued, his motions becoming rougher. Her hips writhed as her eyes fluttered before he tossed the dagger away and fisted his hand into the back of her hair, tilting her head back to expose her throat before his teeth sank into her flesh.
She cried out as her orgasm ripped up her spine, flipping her inside out. She moaned as the wave crested over and over as he continued touching her, and that magical sensation of his bite filtered into every drop of her blood.
When she finally stopped shuddering, he pulled out his fingers and his teeth, licking her neck and lapping up a warm trickle of blood.
Then she looked up at him, into his dark stare, alive with those shimmering golden flecks.
“That was…”
She stopped because she had no idea how to describe any of that.
“Good,” he said with a feral smile. “Because I haven’t even started yet.”