Chapter 9
“ W hat were you thinking?” Destan hisses at me when we leave the Unseelie dining room with food in our bellies and my invitation to the bastet game the next day still standing.
“That we have a job to do, and that we weren’t getting anywhere with any of your suggestions.”
“So your only option was to throw yourself into some brawling match you know nothing about?”
“It’s a ball game, not a brawl.”
Destan looks around, checking for eavesdroppers.
“Where the Unseelie are concerned, it seems to be the same thing,” he says darkly. “You heard what Lord Jasand said about his teammate.”
“I’ll just have to go prepared, then,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel. “And when I win, I’ll have a seat on the council. Can you imagine how helpful that will be? It’s the perfect shortcut to getting Lisinder to reconsider supporting Ruskin.”
“Or it could be a shortcut to splattering your brains all over the ground. How do you think Ruskin would deal with that?”
“You won’t have to find out, because I’ll be fine.”
Destan huffs in frustration. “How can you be so sure of winning? You’ve never even played the game before!”
“I’ll figure it out.”
We reach our chambers and I stop in front of my door.
“So, are you going to tell Ruskin on me?” I ask defiantly. “Will you say I didn’t follow your instructions and made a mess of things?”
Destan shakes his head. “Oh no, you can tell him yourself what you’ve gotten yourself into. Good luck.”
I shake his warnings off as he flounces away to his own room.
When I start to open the door and catch a glimpse of the bedroom inside, I give off a strangled cry.
Ruskin is there, his claws out, pupils contracted into narrow slits. A swirl of shadowy magic dances around him as he growls like a wild animal. My blood races as I wonder what’s happening to him—there is almost no trace of Ruskin on his face, instead I’m hit with a wave of feral energy down the bond. My fear spikes, but so does a deep need to help him. I can’t lose this version of Ruskin too. I shove the door open wider and see Maidar standing a few feet from him, a book open in his hands as he chants words in a language I don’t understand.
“What are you doing?” I shout, running forward a few paces and then pulling myself up short. Ruskin’s head swings towards me, his teeth bared, but he doesn’t move. In fact, he seems stuck in place except for the dramatic rise and fall of his chest. He’s panting like he’s run for miles.
Maidar registers me, and when he looks back to Ruskin, he stops chanting, closing the book in his hands. The dark swirl of magic dissipates, and Ruskin nearly falls to the floor, dropping down onto one knee, while his shoulders spasm with effort.
“Ruskin,” I say, anguished, but I resist the urge to dart forward, waiting for him to lift his head. When he does, I see the wildness in his eyes fading and his pupils returning to their normal size. He slowly stands, straightening his clothes.
“Why did you stop?” he asks Maidar, sounding slightly hoarse from his ordeal.
“That’s enough for tonight, Stiltskin. We must be careful not to push you too hard.”
“Push him too hard?” I repeat, appalled. “What was that?”
Maidar looks at me calculatingly, as if trying to decide if I can handle it.
“We are attempting to immerse Ruskin in the darker parts of his subconscious,” he says eventually. “In case his memories were hidden there by the forces of Interra. It so happens that much of his Unseelie side resides there too. The more extreme parts of it can be…provoked, while we’re delving into his subconscious.” He strides over to the chaise scattered with papers and he gathers up scrolls. “Now I’ll leave you to rest,” he says to Ruskin.
“Wait,” Ruskin says. “Let’s try again. I’m not done.”
“Absolutely not,” I say, grabbing the rest of Maidar’s things and helping him out the door. As the old Unseelie steps out into the corridor I catch his arm.
“Promise me he’ll be all right?” I say quietly.
Maidar gives me a reassuring look. “The spell is ended, Eleanor. It will not cause him any more strain, and he’ll be fine with some sleep.”
When I close the door and turn to face Ruskin, he’s glowering at me.
“Don’t give me that look,” I snap, before he can start arguing. “Even Maidar said you shouldn’t be pushing yourself too much.”
“I have to push myself if I’m going to get these memories back. The magic of Interra won’t be easily undone, and wherever my memories have gone, it would be foolish to think it won’t take sacrifice to retrieve them.”
I bristle at his implication that I’m being foolish. “Earlier today you were acting like you didn’t even want them back all that much,” I point out. “You said it wasn’t the priority.”
“That was before,” he says.
“Before what?”
He clenches his jaw as if biting back the answer. But it occurs to me anyway. He means before we kissed. Before I touched him like he was my Ruskin again, and let him touch me. Could it be that moment made him want to remember? That he got a glimpse then, of what we’d lost? My heart aches at the thought, and I want to go to him, wrap my arms around him, and fill him with that feeling all over again. But he’s already turned away, looking into the mirror by the dresser.
I sigh, trying to calm the storm of feelings inside me.
“Is it dangerous, this thing you’re doing with Maidar?”
“In some ways. We are delving into parts of myself it seems I was not familiar with even before I lost my memories. Dabbling with one’s identity will always be complicated.”
“You didn’t always accept your Unseelie side before,” I say with understanding. “It makes sense that you might have buried parts of it.”
He nods, seeming pleased I understand. “That’s what Maidar says. He remembers me as a boy, often struggling with how I was different to the other Seelie. I eventually learned to hide that discomfort. When we delved into my unconscious and found that side was brought out, he was encouraged. He seems to think that my memories could well be locked away with that part of me.”
I think about this. “I always thought you used your Unseelie side a bit like a mask. You tapped into it when you thought it would be useful, but I don’t think you ever truly embraced it. The last time we were here, you thought about it. You spoke of the kinship you felt with some of the Unseelie but…the attack I told you about changed your mind. After that, you said there was nothing for you here.”
“And that’s where I was wrong,” he says, turning back to me. “Even the Unseelie agree, the attack was not my fault. More than that, clearly it was na?ve of me to think I could cut off whole parts of myself, allowing them to surface only when convenient. It was a fool’s plan and for what purpose?”
“I don’t think the Seelie Court was an easy place for you to grow up,” I say, feeling defensive of the old Ruskin, now that the new one is judging his choices so harshly. “It’s understandable you’d use your Unseelie side as a shield, only to hide it away when you didn’t need it. I think you had to get good at hiding things to survive.”
He looks thoughtful. “That may be. But it was still an emotional choice, not a logical one. Now that I’m not blinded by my past and we’re among the Unseelie, it’s clear to me no one side of me is better than the other. I have no need to limit myself. I can see my Unseelie blood for the strength it has the potential to be.”
“I’m glad,” I say truthfully. “But are you sure this is the best route to your memories?”
He shrugs. “It’s only one theory Maidar has, but it’s a promising one. The suppressed parts of my Unseelie identity could be acting as a block to other elements of my subconscious, but we will learn more as we go.”
“All right,” I say. “I understand. Just please be careful.”
He doesn’t immediately agree, and that worries me, but he distracts me with his next question.
“How did dinner go?”
I sit down on the bed, thinking about how to explain as I ease my aching feet out of my shoes.
“They weren’t very talkative at first. At least, not to us. So I needed to think outside of the box.”
Ruskin hears the note of apprehension in my voice, enough that his expression turns wary.
“How?”
“I got myself invited to a different event, some kind of game. Bastet, it’s called.”
“Invited to play with the High Fae? And you accepted?” Now it’s his turn to sound appalled.
“Don’t tell me you remember bastet. Destan hadn’t even heard of it.”
“I don’t know it, but I do know that any sport the Unseelie play will not be safe for a human,” he says. He looks agitated. Suddenly full of energy with nowhere to put it.
“A regular human, maybe. Why does everyone keep forgetting that’s not me? Besides, you’re the one who sent Destan and me off on our mission to win them over. Well, this is it. If my team wins tomorrow, do you know what I get? A seat on Lisinder’s council. Imagine what we can do with that.”
I can tell he’s torn by the news. He settles for looking at me neutrally. “I’m glad you’re using your initiative, but you shouldn’t have felt so much pressure that you put yourself in danger.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I—” He stops, a smile spreading across his face that sends shivers down my spine. “Fair point.” He comes to sit down beside me. But I should know better to think that Ruskin—memories or not—would just agree I’m right and move on. Proving me correct, he turns towards me so that his breath caresses the shell of my ear.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, almost reflexively, distracted by the way he’s leaning against me. I’m suddenly back where we were before dinner, remembering being on the bed beneath him. We’d been interrupted then…but what if we hadn’t been? What if I’d let his kisses drift lower, allowed myself to give in? My hands twitch at the thought, eager to pull him closer.
“Such flippancy,” he says, but his voice his low and enticing. “You will be fine, because I will make sure of it. There’s no way you’re going to that game without me, Eleanor.” I don’t know when he put his hand on my thigh, but it feels like the heat of it is burning through my skirts. “There’s no way I’ll let any harm come to you.”
I turn towards him and he reaches for my face. I know he wants to kiss me again—of course I want to kiss him too, desperately. But his words are so protective, so reminiscent of the old Ruskin, that I have to know what’s behind them. I pull back, resisting him drawing me in, though our faces remain inches apart. His breath ghosts across my face, warm and sweet, and I fight to focus. There’s something I need first, even more than his lips on mine again.
“Why?” I ask, searching his eyes for a sign of his feelings for me. “What do you care if I go out there tomorrow and get myself killed?” It’s deliberately provocative, but I want a straight answer.
I see a muscle in his jaw flex at the thought and—there it is. A flash of fear. He is afraid of losing me.
“Because you are my naminai . My soulmate. Mine .” The powerful possessiveness of his last words sends a jolt through me, like a lightning bolt striking. That’s what I want—even if it’s just the bond talking, even if he doesn’t remember it all—I need just a sense that he understands what we are to each other. It ignites that wild fire in me I’ve been trying to hold at bay. Now I want to let it burn freely.
I lean forward and capture his mouth with mine. His hand tightens on my thigh, but I push it away, twisting round and swinging my other leg over to straddle him. His hands automatically dip beneath the skirt fabric to cradle my ass, as he slips his tongue into my mouth, exploring—still eager, but less urgently this time. He knows this isn’t a fleeting thing, that we won’t allow ourselves to be interrupted this time. I feel a rumble of pleasure in his chest as his hands tug me in closer and he nips my bottom lip.
“Show me,” I say, my voice rough with mounting need. “Show me how I’m yours.”
I want him to claim me like he did in the throne room, announcing my place in his life to everyone, marking me out as his alone. The thought doesn’t just send thrills through me, it makes me less afraid. As long as he knows he is mine and I am his, then it doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t remember. Even Interra can’t take that away.
He makes a noise of approval, lifting me up and spinning me round to lay me out on the bed. He climbs on top of me, pushing my skirts up so I can feel the press of his cock through the thin fabric of my underwear. I gasp, every touch a balm on my scorched soul. And yet…
Part of me wants him so badly—wants to feel him inside of me, taking me completely, but there’s another voice nagging at the back of my mind that this isn’t the time. Not yet. I feel safe with him, ready for more, but not for everything. We can’t have everything, can we, when Ruskin still can’t remember the first time we met, or made love, or said I love you? It’s not so much the memories themselves, but what they mean. I love Ruskin, but while he knows he cares about me, and can feel that I belong to him, can he say the same? That’s the line that’s still there, beyond the undeniable trust I have in him and our bond, and I know I can’t bring myself to cross it tonight. I bite my lip, wondering if I spoke too soon with my invitation.
“Rus…” I say, as his hands roam along my sides, slipping between the fastenings of my dress. He stops when I say his name, his eyes burning into mine. In that moment, with his hands circling my hips, all I want in the world is to believe he still loves me, that we can join together here, our feelings fully equal. So it’s painful to say the next few words.
“Rus, I don’t know if I’m ready for everything,” I say, emphasizing the last part, hoping he’ll understand what I’m saying.
Without a word, he leans down to kiss me again. It’s a long, slow thing that makes me glad I’m already lying down, because my head’s spinning by the time he’s done. My body takes over for my brain, setting off sparks behind my eyes as his lips undo me. When he pulls away, my dazed expression must be written all over my face, because he gives a quiet chuckle.
“Don’t worry, Eleanor. I don’t need to take you like that to prove you’re mine.” My blood heats as he stares down into my eyes, that powerful fire within them held under tight control. “Although some day soon you will ask me to, and I will fuck you so well that you’ll be the one forgetting your own name.”
My whole body burns at the thought.
“But even without that, let’s make one thing clear…” He claims my lips in a kiss rougher than the last, then brushes the swollen skin tenderly with his thumb. “These are mine.”
He drops his head to my neck, licking a line along my collarbone, making me gasp.
“And this.”
Somehow his hands have been busy undoing the corset of my dress and he pushes the fabric open now, like unwrapping a present. His large hands cover my breasts.
“And these .” I let out a mewling noise, writhing beneath him.
“Yes, yours,” I gasp, as he swirls a tongue over my left nipple. I arch my back, so he takes me more fully in his mouth. Of course, he’s right. Even without his memories I couldn’t be anyone else’s. My body is his, utterly, and I let my pleasure mount as I give in to the idea. Submitting entirely to his touch. His claim.
His hand dips beneath the fabric of the dress’s bodice, where he traces my stomach, stroking a circle around my navel. “This too,” he says, sounding delighted at the uncontrollable noises I’m making.
“What else ?” I say, spreading my legs so that he’s under no illusions as to where I want him to go next. It’s unexpectedly healing, having him explore my body like this. He’s relearning its dips and curves, but for me it’s a homecoming, my body welcoming the return of him.
He positions himself over the apex of my thighs, licking a long line upwards over the already wet fabric of my underwear. The warm pressure of his tongue scraping over my clit sends me into a frenzy.
“This. This is mine, Eleanor.”
“Please,” I say, squirming for him to touch me more.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“It’s yours. All of it. Please.” I don’t care that I’m begging. Why hide how much I’ve been longing for him? He should know that this has been torture for me, waiting for this moment. And from the way he’s looking at me, I’m certain he’s about to make it up to me.
He slips his fingers under the band of my underwear and slides it down my legs, his gaze flaring bright as it reveals how wet and ready I am for him. He dips his head, exploring the grooves and folds of me with his tongue, and I release a moan that carries away all my anxiety with it. I let the ecstasy wash over me, my heart swelling with my pleasure.
Even if my head is conflicted about who Ruskin is right now, even if his mind is missing pieces of our puzzle, our bodies know who we are, and mine responds to him now with the same fire—burning as it always has for him.
The heat of his mouth is more intense now that there’s no barrier between us and I whimper, reaching down on impulse to wrap my hand around one of his horns. I tug gently on it, using it to steer his head closer against my clit, guiding him to devour me in just the way I need.
He laughs, the sound quickly cut off by the return of his lips to my skin, feasting on the most intimate part of me, driving me wild with the strong, firm strokes of his tongue until the building climax can’t be held back anymore.
I twist my hands into the sheets beneath me, quivering with the force of the orgasm, releasing a wild noise as it grips me in that perfect moment of bliss before it fades away. My vision, made hazy with pleasure, begins to sharpen again, and all I want to do is stretch this moment out forever.
“Rus,” I say, reaching out for him, aware of the erection straining against the fabric of his pants. I want to make him feel as good as he’s just made me, to give him the same level of closeness, but he gently takes my hands and clasps them to him.
“Not tonight,” he says, kissing me again, letting me know that it’s okay that this moment was just for me. I think we both know I needed it most, that I was going a little crazy cutting myself off from the man I love. Now he’s pulled me back from that edge, and I feel stronger and saner for it.
We get ready for bed, and I revel in the ability to lie beside Ruskin properly again, with the press of his warm body against my back and his arm beneath me. I could happily lie here forever, but even here reality comes creeping back in, as I consider what waits for me tomorrow.
“Ruskin…” I begin, wondering how to broach the topic.
He hums to tell me he’s listening, pressing a kiss to my shoulder that makes my skin tingle.
“You know you can’t be involved in this game, right? We said you need to keep your distance from the others until Maidar finds a way to help you.”
I feel his muscles tighten beside me. He doesn’t like that.
“No matter what you say, I will be there in some form, making sure you’re safe. I suggest you accept that.” He pulls me closer to him, enveloping me in his arms. “Because it’s not open for debate.”
I might feel a prickle of annoyance at his bossiness, but instead his words, and his arms around me, just make me feel secure and wanted.
“All right, but you’re not allowed to play, agreed? There’s too much risk of you slipping up about your memory.”
He groans, the sound of frustration sending vibrations through my body.
“It’s a crime, you know, letting all my talents go to waste because of one simple secret. Whatever this game involves, I’m sure I could show these Unseelie a thing or two.”
“There’ll be other times to show off,” I say with a grin. “And you have other talents.” I emphasize what I mean my wriggling against him, enjoying the way his body responds.
He groans again, more deeply this time.
“Behave yourself, Eleanor,” he orders. “Or I’ll be too distracted tomorrow to make sure you don’t die.”
I think he’s joking. I hope he is. Because it occurs to me that when it comes to the game tomorrow, I have no idea exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.