Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty Three
"I…" she began, then stopped, still staring at the shards.
The internal war raged on. Fear of failure warring with the need to do what was right. The desperate desire for her father's approval fighting against the small voice that whispered she might be making the biggest mistake of her life.
"I can't," she said finally, the words barely above a whisper. "I can't do this."
The poacher's expression remained passive. "Are you certain?" he asked smoothly. "Once I leave, this opportunity won't—"
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Distant, but approaching.
The poacher's head snapped toward the door. For a heartbeat, he went perfectly still, listening.
"Unfortunate," he said quietly, scooping up the shards in one sweep of his hand and tucking them away. "Most unfortunate."
He gave a short bow and slipped through the door, gone as quickly and silently as he'd arrived. The latch clicked shut behind him.
Cassara stood frozen, staring at the empty space where the shards had been. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The room felt too small suddenly, the air too thin.
She'd been tempted. Gods, she'd been so tempted.
Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her thighs, trying to steady her breathing. The weight of what she'd just refused settled over her—not relief, not pride, just exhaustion.
The footsteps grew louder, closer, and her pulse spiked. Whoever was coming would find her here, alone, looking guilty. Would they know? Could they tell just by looking at her that she'd been offered a deal?
The door opened.
Auren stepped inside.
He moved with his usual quiet grace, but there was something different in the set of his shoulders, the careful way he closed the door behind him. His gaze swept the room once before finding hers, and she saw relief flicker across his features.
"There you are," he said, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her again. "I've been looking for you."
Cassara's heart hammered against her ribs. Did he know? Had he heard something? Seen someone leaving? Her mind raced through possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.
"I was just finishing up," she said, taking a step toward her things. "I should head back to the dormitory."
But Auren was already moving closer, concern creasing his brow.
"Hey.” He reached out to touch her arm. "Are you all right? You look—"
She jerked back from his touch like it burned, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm fine. I just need to go."
The words came out harsher than she meant for them to, and she saw him freeze, his hand still extended outward. His expression shifted, concern giving way to hurt, then something harder.
“Cassara.” His voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She moved toward the door, but he stepped sideways making it clear he wasn’t going to let her escape without an explanation. “Auren, please. Someone could see—”
“There’s no one here but us.” His eyes searched her face, and she could see him cataloging every detail, the way her hands shook, how she wouldn’t meet his gaze, the careful distance she kept between them. “The other training rooms are empty.”
“That doesn’t matter.” She hugged herself tighter, wishing she could disappear. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” The question was soft, but she heard the edge creeping in. “Having conversations? Because that’s all this is, Cassara. Two people talking.”
But they both knew it wasn’t that simple. Even now, with several feet separating them, she could feel the pull of him. The way her body wanted to lean toward his warmth, the way her pulse quickened just from being in the same room.
“You know it’s more than that,” she whispered.
“No, I don’t.” He took another step closer, and this time she had nowhere to retreat. “Because you won’t tell me what’s wrong. For days now, you’ve been treating me like a stranger. In public, I can understand. But here? Now? When it’s just us?”
His voice cracked slightly on the last words, and the vulnerability in it nearly undid her.
“I’m trying to protect us both,” she said desperately.
“From what?” He stepped closer. “Cassara, talk to me. Please.”
She wanted to. Gods, how she wanted to tell him everything. But the image of Julian’s satisfied smile, the way he’d touched her with such possessive confidence, it all crashed over her at once.
“I can’t,” she breathed.
Something snapped and Auren’s hands came up to frame her face, gentle but insistent, forcing her to look at him.
“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “Whatever it is, whatever’s frightening you this badly, you can tell me.”
The tenderness in his touch, the way he looked at her like she was something precious, broke through her defenses like a dam bursting.
“Julian knows,” she whispered.
Auren went very still, his thumbs tracing along her cheekbones. “Knows what?”
“Not about you. Not specifically. But he knows someone was with me that night. He’s been asking questions, making…
implications.” The words tumbled out in a rush, relief and terror warring in her chest. “He said he’d figure it out eventually.
That it doesn’t matter who I… that in the end I’ll still belong to him. ”
The change in Auren was immediate and frightening. The gentleness in his touch remained, but his eyes went cold, dangerous in a way she’d never seen before.
“The hell you will,” he said, voice low and deadly.
The possessive fury in his voice terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her. She could see the storm building behind his eyes, could practically feel the violence he was holding back.
“He can ruin everything, Auren. His family—he could destroy you.” She pressed her palms against his chest, feeling the rapid thunder of his heartbeat beneath her hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”
“Reckless?” His laugh was sharp, bitter. “You think confronting him would be reckless?”
“I think it would be stupid,” she said desperately. “And dangerous. If he even suspects you’re the one, he won’t need proof.”
“Then what?” His hands tightened slightly on her face, not painful but insistent. “You’ll just keep letting him terrorize you? Let him stake his claim while you suffer in silence?”
“I can handle Julian.”
“How?” The question cut through her protests like a blade. “By avoiding me? By pretending nothing happened between us? Because that strategy isn’t working, Cassara. He’s only getting bolder and I… I am tired of pretending.”
She opened her mouth to argue, to insist she had everything under control, but the words died in her throat. Because he was right. Julian was getting bolder. More possessive. More certain of his eventual victory.
“I’ll figure something out,” she said weakly.
“Will you?” Auren’s voice dropped to a whisper, his breath warm against her cheek. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re drowning. Avoiding me, avoiding this, isn’t going to save either of us.”
“Auren, please—”
His mouth crashed against hers with desperate hunger, swallowing her protests in a kiss that was raw and claiming. There was nothing gentle about it this time, it was need and frustration and days of forced restraint finally snapping.
Cassara melted into him despite herself, her hands curling in his shirt as she kissed him back with equal desperation. This was what she’d been denying herself, what she’d been pushing away out of fear. The heat, the connection, the way he made her feel like she was coming alive.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
“This,” he said roughly, his forehead pressed against hers, “is not something you can just handle or figure out and I’m not going to stand by and watch Julian destroy it.”
She stared up at him, seeing the fierce determination in his eyes, the way he looked at her like she was worth fighting for. When had anyone ever looked at her like that?
“I’m scared,” she whispered, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside her. “Of losing you.”
“Hey.” His thumbs brushed away tears she didn’t even realize had fallen. “You’re not going to lose me. Not to him. Not to anyone.”
The tenderness in his voice, the absolute certainty, was too much. All the fear and frustration and desperate longing she’d been holding back came rushing to the surface.
“I’ve missed you,” she breathed. “These past few days, pretending you meant nothing to me, it’s been killing me.”
His expression shifted, the anger giving way to something deeper, hungrier. “Show me,” he said quietly. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”
This time, she was the one who closed the distance between them, pouring weeks of suppressed longing into the kiss. His response was immediate and overwhelming, his hands sliding into her hair, angling her head to deepen the contact until she was drowning in the taste and heat of him.
“Cassara,” he groaned against her lips.
Her hands found the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling with urgent need. She needed to feel him, needed the reassurance of skin against skin and to prove to herself that this was real.
He helped her, shrugging out of the fabric before his hands found the hem of her training shirt. The question in his eyes was clear, and she answered by raising her arms, letting him lift the garment away.
The cool air of the chamber kissed her heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire in his gaze as he looked at her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, his hands skimming along her sides with reverent care. “So damn beautiful.”
His hands mapped the curve of her waist, fingers tracing patterns along her ribs that made her shiver. When his thumbs brushed just beneath the curve of her breasts, she gasped, arching into his touch.
“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, pressing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. “About touching you like this. Every night since the ruins.”