Chapter 10 Guardian of Her Grief
GUARDIAN OF HER GRIEF
“To touch a heart without force is the true measure of strength. A male who cannot calm his storm will drown the very thing he was meant to protect.”
—Vládan of ávera, Warlord and Mate to ánya
Theron
Goddesses above, you blessed me, and I will forever be grateful for your decision.
I’ve spent centuries imagining this moment, but nothing could have prepared me for her. So fierce, so small, and so full of blue fire. It’s overwhelming, this need to know her, to understand the storm inside her . . . But I have to wait.
Her body trembled against mine just moments ago, her anger and grief pouring out in a way I hadn’t expected. And yet, beneath all of that, she had the strength to pull a weapon on me. Did she truly mean to hurt me, or was she just driven by emotion?
Either way, it didn’t matter.
She could have stabbed me a hundred times, and I wouldn’t have moved.
A wound like that wouldn’t kill a vólkin.
Not even close. If anything, I would’ve let her do it.
If it helped her find control in this chaos, I’d gladly bear the pain.
A sharp edge is nothing compared to the torment I see behind her dark eyes.
I can still feel her touch, the way her small human hands gripped my fur, pulling me down to her.
I’m glad she broke down, glad she let go of the burden she’s been carrying.
I won’t ask questions now. I won’t pry into her wounds.
She needs time to breathe, to let her spirit calm before she can even begin to share her story.
I’ll wait for her, no matter how long it takes.
But even as I want to focus on giving her what she needs, my body betrays me. The way she leaned against me, her lush figure pressed into my chest, her tears soaking into my fur . . .
My shaft throbs, heavy and hard, and I curse my body for its timing.
It’s inappropriate to feel this now, when she’s crying in my arms and tears stream down her face.
She doesn’t need me like that—at least not now.
She needs comfort. And as much as the beast inside me craves the moment he can fill her, I won’t let it happen like this.
That’s why I pulled her into my arms, holding her higher so the tip of my cock wouldn’t press into her belly.
I cradle her carefully and look at her. Small face with red cheeks and nose. How could anyone hurt her? How could anyone see someone so precious and try to take her freedom? Whoever has wronged her, whoever has put her in this state, goddesses, I swear, they will die.
But that’s not what she needs right now. Revenge can wait. For now, she simply needs to know she’s safe.
Her face is still tear streaked, her eyes shining and swollen, but she no longer looks at me with the same fiery defiance. Instead, she seems . . . tired. Her breathing is steadying, the harsh sobs beginning to quiet. She has me now. There’s no need to be on guard like that anymore.
The silence between us is finally gentle, no longer tense. I can almost hear the way her mind is working, spinning, still trying to figure out what’s going on.
“What is your name?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She hesitates, as if weighing whether or not to answer me. Then, finally, in a hushed voice, she says, “Noel.”
It’s a beautiful name. Strong and soft all at once, just like the female resting in my arms. “Noel,” I repeat. It fits her perfectly.
She doesn’t pull away any farther. She even looks up at me, her dark brown eyes searching mine as if trying to understand what she sees in them. We’re getting there. Slowly.
Noel. My Noel.
My eyes move over her face. Her hairline is refined, a delicate curve framing her forehead.
Unlike me, she has no fur, just the thinnest layer of small hairs across her skin.
How do humans stay warm without a pelt? How does her body survive the cold?
I understand now why she needs clothes, even though her sarafan is dirty and torn from her journey. And stained with blood from my chest.
I force myself not to grin in satisfaction. Not the time, Theron.
Her eyelashes are wet, clumped together with the tears that have yet to dry. Her pupils are wide, a bottomless black framed by the most mesmerizing dark brown irises. I study her lips, swollen and tender from crying. The exquisite pink of her mouth draws my attention. It looks so delicious.
Humans kiss with their lips, I know that much.
It’s considered an intimate act, something shared between lovers.
My mouth, though . . . it’s different from a human’s.
Would kissing her be awkward, strange? I can’t imagine pressing my lips to hers in the same way humans do.
It would be too clumsy. But I would kiss her in my own way, taste her, worship every part of her skin.
Still, I wonder if she’ll be disappointed that I can’t kiss her like a human male would.
Has she kissed anyone before? The thought sends a growl rumbling through my chest.
If any male dared to touch her, I’d r ip his jaw off.
Now that she’s calm in my arms, her breathing even and her eyes fixed on me, I can finally let my attention shift to something I’ve been aware of for some time but had to set aside—the faint, delicious scent of her blood.
It’s been teasing my senses ever since I found her, stirring my cock even as I tried to calm it.
Vólkins are drawn to the scent of blood in a way that’s difficult to describe.
It calls to our instincts, but I was never hard because of it.
“You’re hurt,” I say, more of a statement than a question. Carefully, I lift her hand, examining the small cuts and bruises littering her skin.
“It’s nothing.” She attempts to pull her hand away, but I hold firm.
“Let me help,” I insist. “Our saliva has antiseptic properties. It will help heal your wounds.”
Noel watches me, her eyes fixated on my mouth as if she’s both curious and uncertain about what I’ll do next. Her cheeks turn the subtlest shade of pink. I’ve seen that color before . . . when she first caught sight of my cock. So that is definitely blushing.
“Really?” she asks, her voice betraying that tiny spark of wonder.
I nod, holding her gaze. “It does. We vólkins heal quickly, and we can help others heal too.”
Her eyes study me, and I can see the intrigue in them. This is good. She isn’t planning my death, for now.
“We have many abilities,” I continue, “beyond what you might expect. Our senses are heightened—we can see in the dark, hear even the faintest of sounds, and track scents over great distances. We can also speed up healing through a form of energy transfer.”
Her brow furrows as she processes what I’ve said. “Energy transfer?”
“By focusing our energy, we can help others heal more quickly. It’s a skill that takes time to master.”
She glances down at her hand where it still rests in mine before looking back up at me. “What else can you do?”
“Many things,” I say, “but let’s start with healing you first.”
I bring her hand to my mouth, eyes locked on hers, letting her know exactly what I’m about to do.
I trace my tongue over her cuts, slowly, and her fingers twitch.
Her skin is silken, warm, so real on my tongue.
The slightest taste of blood hits me, awakening the beast deep inside, but I push him down.
This isn’t about hunger. It’s about her.
About the way her body responds to me, the way I can feel her pulse under my touch.
Each stroke of my tongue feels like claiming a piece of her, and I can’t help myself.
The connection pulls tighter with every breath.
That hint of sweetness from her cunt is teasing me again. Yield, Theron.
Noel’s curious eyes follow my tongue, and they widen as the cuts heal before her.
After I’ve tended her hand, I trace my tongue over the tears that still cling to her cheeks, tasting the salt and sorrow they carry. She looks at me, startled. Will she pull away?
“Can you heal my soul too?”
“I wish I could, Noel.”
She shifts in my arms. Her plush lips part as she searches for the right words. “I wanted to wash myself in that stream,” she finally says, her voice quieter than before.
I nod. “Then we’ll go back.”
Keeping her secure in my arms, I turn around. It feels so natural to carry her like this, her small body fitting against me as if she belongs here. Because she does. I could get used to this, holding her, keeping her close. Even though I know she’ll protest eventually.
Right on cue, she shifts again, crossing her arms. “I can walk,”
A grin tugs at my lips. “I know.”
She rolls her eyes, and I chuckle, but I don’t stop walking.
As we move through the forest, I can feel every creature around us—bears lumbering farther into the brush, boars moving quietly, and smaller animals darting away.
None of them dare come close. They know better than to cross paths with their Lidé?en.
I wonder if Noel has noticed, if she’s aware of the power radiating from her, even in this state.
I glance down at her. “Have you seen any animals since you’ve been here?”
A hint of pride creeps into her voice as she says, “No. I was careful not to attract any predators.”
I suppress the urge to smile. She’s pleased with herself, and I’ll let her have this. She doesn’t need to know that no predator would have dared approach the leader from the prophecy, so I hold my tongue and keep walking.
But then she hesitates, a slight smirk crossing her lips. “Except for one.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Me?”
She nods, her gaze dropping to my chest. “I hurt you, and you didn’t even feel it.”
“I did,” I say. “I’d keep the mark as a gift, if I could, but I can’t help that my body heals itself.” My jokes aren’t nearly as good as Kael’s, but—
“Watch yourself, vólkin,” Noel warns, grabbing my mane. She narrows her eyes, leaning close to my snout. “If you think I’d fall to my knees and thank you for healing a few cuts, you’re delusional.”