Chapter 37 – Raelyn
Chapter Thirty-Seven
RAELYN
I’m on an island. Wind whips through my hair, tangling my skirts around my legs. The briny air makes my eyes sting, and sand squishes beneath my feet. How did I get here?
A low growl has the hair on my neck standing at attention, and I spin around, spying the largest lion I could possibly imagine prowling toward me.
This is just a dream. This has to be a dream. Why does it feel so real?
I take a step back, wanting to flee but somehow knowing it’s completely useless. This beast would catch me before I made it two feet.
I stop, daring to stare into the lion’s golden eyes. I vaguely remember my father asking me about dreams . . .
The lion continues prowling menacingly toward me, and I sink to my knees in the sand, bowing before, who I hope, is the sun god—my ancestor?
Warm breath blows across my head, sending more chills skittering down my spine.
A soft nudge, and I look up, my heart nearly stopping at the massive creature before me.
While I am terrified, a part of me feels safe, which might be completely insane on my part .
. . and yet, I remind myself again, this is only a dream. Can he hurt me in a dream?
The lion chuffs, almost as if he can hear the thoughts racing through my head. Wait, can he? If he’s controlling my dream, then of course he can. He’s in my head.
I think the lion snorts in amusement, and I reach out a hand, hesitating before petting his head. He nuzzles my hand, and a feeling of warmth encompasses me.
“Hi,” I murmur. “Can you understand me?”
The lion chuffs again.
“Why am I here?” I ask, wishing he could somehow speak.
The lion nudges me again and motions his head toward the jungle.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
The lion grunts once, and I slowly rise, brushing the sand off my skirts. The visceral nature of the dream is almost shocking; it feels far too real for my comfort.
The lion turns and prowls toward the tree line, and I follow.
Our path is lit by the soft moonlight and twinkling stars, and I mark their position in the sky. I can’t help but wonder where I am and whether or not it’s a real place.
When we finally make it into the jungle, the darkness fills me with a sense of unease.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, though why I’m talking to a lion who can’t talk back is beyond me.
The lion chuffs what sounds like a laugh again, and I shake my head as he leads me deeper into the woods.
The moonlight barely reaches in through the trees, and my eyes are having trouble adjusting to the dark.
The lion comes up alongside me, and I put my hand on his silky back, allowing him to guide me, trying not to trip over roots or get smacked in the face by the low-hanging branches.
The trickling sound of water gets louder and louder until we finally reach the roar of a waterfall.
The lion stops, pointing his nose toward it, and I shiver.
The howls of a man in pain reach my ears, and my heart collapses in on itself.
The pain is overwhelming, all-consuming.
“Is this where you are? Are you trapped?” I gasp.
A growl comes from the lion, but when I look down, he’s gone. I’m stranded alone on this island, the spray of the waterfall chilling me to my core. The howling cries awaken a deep terror within me, and then I’m screaming.
“Raelyn!” A rough voice breaks through the haze of my dream turned nightmare. My arms thrash as I feel hands on me. Why can’t I wake up?
Light sparks, and I blink furiously as I sit up in bed. Concerned stormy eyes peer into mine.
“Raelyn,” Kian repeats, cupping my cheek with his rough hand. “Are you all right? You were screaming.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath and shake my head. “Water,” I rasp. “Please . . .”
Kian drops his hand and rushes out of the room, quickly returning with a glass of water, holding it up to my mouth for me to drink.
I shakily clasp my hands around the glass, and the tepid liquid slides down my throat, bringing with it a little more clarity.
“What happened?” Kian asks. “Was it a nightmare?”
“I dreamed of the lion,” I say with a shudder. “I think you were right . . . It’s him, the sun god.”
Kian blinks in surprise, and all of a sudden, I really see him. He is clad head-to-toe in black leather, and there is blood seeping out of a gash on his forehead. My mouth immediately salivates at the sight and scent of it, but I chastise myself. This is not the time, Rae.
“You’re hurt,” I state.
Kian blinks again, his hand going to his forehead, and he shakes his head. “Just a scratch, love. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Where were you?” I demand, sitting up taller in bed. “Why are you dressed like that?”
Kian avoids my gaze and heads toward the washroom, ignoring my questions.
Jumping out of bed, I follow him, anger at yet another man in my life withholding information pulsing through me.
“Are you going to answer me or not?” I demand.
“I need to get cleaned up, love, so unless you want to see me naked, I’d advise leaving the washroom.” He starts peeling his leathers off, and my face immediately flushes in embarrassment . . . yet my curiosity is high.
I whirl around before I can see something I shouldn’t, but I stay in the room, listening to the sound of clothes hitting the floor and the thud of boots being thrown into the corner. “I . . . uhh . . . I expect an answer out of you, husband.”
Kian snorts a laugh. “So now I’m your husband, eh?”
I hold up my bare arm, flashing the mark at him, even though I don’t know if he’s looking. “That’s what this says!”
There’s a splash as water starts to fill the tub, and I tap my foot impatiently. Kian hasn’t lit any lamps, so the only illumination in the room comes from the moonlight faintly streaming in from the small window overhead.
I chance a glance over my shoulder, and my mouth waters for an entirely different reason. Kian’s back is to me, and the firm globes of his ass are on display. My eyes take in the muscled masterpiece, and I swallow audibly.
Kian looks over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second before I immediately turn away, embarrassed at being caught staring.
“Like what you see, love?” Kian’s voice is a caress down my skin, and I remember I’m only wearing a light shift that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
Another splash of water alerts me to the fact that he is now in the tub, followed by a soft groan and hiss.
I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to hide the hardened peaks of my nipples as I turn back to look at him. “Now, are you going to tell me where that ‘scratch’ came from?” I ask, daring to take a few steps closer.
Kian turns his head, observing my cautious approach, a sly smirk crossing his face. “I’m touched you’re so concerned for me.”
I shake my head in annoyance. “If you’re just going to make jokes, I’ll leave and call for the healer.”
“Wait, stop,” Kian says, his tone changing.
I tap my foot again impatiently. “You have no idea how much I hate when people lie to me or withhold truths, even when I directly ask. If you won’t tell me what’s going on, I—”
“What do you mean?” Kian interjects. “Did something happen?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “My father showed up.”
Kian uses a cloth to carefully clean himself, and I draw a little closer, realizing he’s covered in bruises.
“Shit, Kian. What have you been doing? Brawling?” I stop before I get any closer, not wanting to tempt myself to look any further. Besides, this is completely inappropriate, me getting turned on by an injured man.
Kian winces again, and I throw up my hands before grabbing the cloth from him, pulling a small stool over, and gently cleaning the area on his back he was unable to reach. I’m behind him, so I can’t see . . . much.
“Thanks,” he mutters. “I’m not used to someone taking care of me.”
I shrug, but then remember his back is to me. “It’s the least I can do. I am your wife after all.”
He chuckles.
I grab a pitcher and dunk it into the water, gently tilting his head back and soaking his dark locks.
“That feels nice,” he groans, and it sends a bolt of heat straight to my core.
I pour some soap into my hands and gently massage his scalp, careful not to get anywhere near the cut on his forehead.
Another quiet moan from Kian has me clenching my thighs together.
“Thank you, love.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice comes out all breathy. Shit. What is happening?
“So, your father was here?” Kian asks.
I continue rubbing the soap through his hair, wondering how much I want to share, and grateful for the distraction. “I tried to ask him questions about . . . everything . . . He just kept deflecting.” I frown. “Kind of like what you’ve been doing.”
“I’m sorry, Rae,” Kian rasps. “I just don’t want to say anything that will put you in danger.”
I turn the pitcher of water over onto his head with no warning, and he starts spluttering, trying to wipe his hair out of his face.
“Hells! What was that for?”
“I’m so sick and tired of men telling me they’re lying to me for my benefit!” I rise, knocking the small stool over, the clatter rattling through the space.
Kian stands from the bath, turning to glare at me, and my eyes drink in the magnificent sight of him, completely naked. I grab a towel and thrust it at him, needing him to be covered up because I can’t think—can’t breathe—with him in front of me like that.
“Why are you mad?” I spit out.
Kian huffs a dark laugh as he wraps the towel around his hips and grabs another to dry his hair. “I don’t get you, Rae. What do you want from me? As far as we’re concerned, this isn’t a real marriage. I don’t owe you anything.”
I take a breath. He’s right.
“I’m sorry . . . I just . . . I really wanted answers from my father, and he gave me practically nothing.
” I shrug, even as the feelings from earlier flood back through me.
“He just kept saying he was doing it all to protect me but wouldn’t explain more than that .
. . And now you show up in the middle of the night, bleeding and hurt .
. . refusing to tell me where you’ve been because you want to protect me? ”
Kian squeezes his eyes shut for a second before taking a cautious step toward me. “I’m sorry, Rae. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I laugh almost hysterically. “You didn’t hurt me, not really.”
He steps closer, tilting my chin up to look at him. “Rae, I—I really want to be able to share with you, but it could mean your death.”
I freeze, taking in the seriousness in Kian’s eyes—his smoky, grey eyes—and the black leather . . . The puzzle pieces click into place, and I gasp, taking a step away from him in shock. How did I not see it? How could I have been so blind, so dumb?
“It’s you . . .” I whisper.
Kian stiffens, his hand dropping back to his side.
I back out of the room, my hand going to my throat.
“Don’t say it, Rae. You can’t unsay it if you do,” Kian almost growls. His eyes beg me to stop before I change everything.
“You’re him.”
I almost laugh again. What is my life? I’m married to a prince who is also enemy number one to the king, the vigilante known as the Shadow, who has been stealing goods for his people, doling out punishment to the king’s lords .
. . the same vigilante who tried stealing from my father all those weeks ago. It has always been him.