Chapter 13
I’d always labeled Marsik as a drunk. Now, I knew that only applied to one version of him.
The other version, the one I’d never seen before in my life, was a skilled warrior with survival instincts that hadn’t faded with age. It was that version that brought him and Merelda to the Citadel.
As they ate their meal, they told me the tale, one I wouldn’t have believed if they weren’t right before me.
Not long after I was taken, armed men came to our village, asking for Merelda.
Our neighbors warned them, and they snuck away unnoticed.
In Marsik’s words, which he’d delivered with a smirk, young soldiers always underestimate us old dogs.
From there, they moved further into Second Territory, relying on Marsik’s acquaintances from his army days to house them.
Two weeks into their flight, they saw a scroll posted to a village wall asking for their whereabouts, signed with Princeps Theo’s royal seal.
That same night, as they dined in the corner of a tavern, their hoods pulled high, they overheard rumors of the magvis, a young woman with gold and violet eyes in Princeps Harthon’s possession.
Merelda claimed it was motherly instinct, and they came, evading Koerlyn’s patrols in Third and even Harthon’s in Fourth until they arrived.
The battle had made it easier, distracting both Princepes’ forces so they could slip through unnoticed, even at their slow pace.
I’d stared at Marsik when they finished, a new image of him forming in my mind. It helped that he hadn’t requested wine with his meal.
After hearing their story, I explained how I came to be in the Citadel, the events of the past few weeks, and what I was going to do.
I hid no truths. But I also didn’t get very detailed about, well, the feelings and betrayals part of what’d happened.
That wasn’t a conversation I was about to have in front of Marsik.
Merelda gave me a knowing smile as she patted my leg, saying, “There is much more to talk about, I’d imagine. But we have tomorrow, and it would be wise for us to rest.”
I wanted to tell her to share the bed with me, but that would be selfish. After all they’d been through, she needed to bathe and have the comfort of her own space.
I retrieved Harthon from the hallway, who personally escorted us to their guest quarters. Once more, stairs were involved, and he saved Merelda the pain of taking them herself. And once more, she nearly swooned, much to my embarrassment.
After a hug I never wanted to end, I stood in the hallway with Harthon, unable to turn away from her closed door.
All this time, I’d thought I might feel some semblance of peace when we were reunited.
It was all I’d wanted. But now that she was actually here, I couldn’t stop myself from worrying.
About her leg, or whether the next person who threatened me would target her, or the state of her health after she’d spent weeks journeying through the Territories.
I might as well have spoken my thoughts out loud, because Harthon reassured, “Their rooms will be guarded, and the healer is already on his way.”
I nodded, but I still couldn’t pull myself away.
Fingers slid beneath my chin and guided it away from the door. His thumb smoothed across my jaw as our eyes met. “There’s nothing you can do for her right now. She’s safe. And you need rest.”
There were no more noises coming from the Conquering Day celebration. The event had started late to begin with, and hours had passed since we left. It felt like I’d lived another entire day since Merelda arrived.
Harthon must have sensed my acceptance, because his hand skated to my back and nudged me alongside him. I stole a glance at him as we climbed the stairs, considering all he’d just done for Merelda. For me.
He’d left his celebration to take care of us. Skies, he’d stood in my hallway, staring at the wall for hours while we’d talked, the celebration continuing without him.
I struggled to find the right words.
I couldn’t find them, but I needed to express them, so as we halted outside my room, words became impulse. My hands landed on his shoulders, and I went to my toes, bringing my lips to his.
He met me halfway. Just like after my attack, it was a simple brush of lips, a short and tender gesture.
But unlike before, there was a tightening in my belly when it ended.
Because now I was remembering our dance.
Remembering that I was feeling, and that all my prior excuses were no longer relevant.
Harthon stilled as he read the message in my eyes. One I wasn’t trying at all to hide.
No, I wanted him to see it.
I wanted him to do something about it.
His arm snaked around me to open the door, the knob in his throat bobbing. “Let me help you with the crown. It can get snared easily.”
Always taking care of me.
As he followed me inside, I was aware of every movement he made, his presence like a physical caress along my back.
I stopped before the mirror, entranced as he came up behind me, leashed power in every step.
I was no weak, delicate woman, and with his capable form looming over me, I didn’t feel like one, either.
Rather, I felt powerful. And that power mingled with unchecked desire as he met my violet and gold eyes in our reflection.
Every nerve hummed in anticipation as he handled the crown. Deft fingers tugged hairs away from the metal, each gentle pull sending pleasant prickles across my scalp. He took longer than he needed to, long enough for me to imagine what those fingers might feel like ghosting over my skin.
When he reached past me to place the crown on the bureau, our gazes collided again. His hands reached for my shoulders.
Then they dropped. “You’ve had a long night.”
I was inexperienced, but not so much that I couldn’t tell how forced his statement was, or how his intense expression spoke a very different message from his mouth.
I turned to face him.
His jaw ticked as he rasped, “I still need to explain about Jonathan.”
“You do,” I agreed. But it didn’t need to be now.
We stared at each other, long enough for his pupils to expand.
I don’t know who moved first.
Our mouths clashed together, my back arching as he hauled me against him.
I gripped his chest as his tongue pushed past my lips.
There was no easing in, no cautious seeking.
It was a claiming, my body trapped in his arms, my mouth—my entire being—at his mercy as his tongue explored and sensation stole my breath.
He stepped forward, and the hard wood of the bureau met my lower back. A sound reverberated deep in his throat. I swallowed it. Reveled in it. Groaned as one of his hands slid to the nape of my neck, holding me there.
He bit my lip, holding it between his teeth for a second, and my belly jolted.
Then it turned molten when he soothed the spot with his tongue and skated his mouth across my cheek to my ear.
A sharp nip. Then he laved over that too, before coasting down my neck.
My lower belly throbbed as I waited for him to do it again, for another small sting to ratchet me higher.
Without warning, he pulled back. “If this doesn’t end now, it won’t end at all.” Crimson colored the tops of his cheekbones as heavy breaths flared his nostrils.
He was losing control. Because of me.
And I loved it.
“I don’t want this to end,” I breathed.
I went to lean forward, but he tightened his grip on my nape, holding me apart from him. “I hurt you once. I won’t allow myself to do it again.”
That reminder did nothing to cool the desire heating my veins. He’d betrayed me. I’d betrayed him. It was in the past. Whether or not it was prudent, I didn’t care anymore.
“Unless you have plans to harm Merelda, you cannot be hiding anything that would hurt me.” A reckless, confident statement. One driven by a need that was becoming painful.
His expression turned grave. “I would never harm her. This is not about secrets. This is about who I am and the night you’ve had.”
“Merelda is here. This is a wonderful night.” Now kiss me again.
A slight shake of his head. “Too many things have been thrown at you tonight. You’re vulnerable. Not thinking clearly. I won’t take advantage.”
For Domus’ sake. “You haven’t coddled me before. Don’t start now.”
He didn’t argue back. Just considered me, his fingers digging into my skin.
I bit my lip, bringing his attention back to where I wanted it.
“I do not deserve this,” he murmured. Then he lost whatever battle he’d been waging in his head.
His mouth landed on mine again, and he pressed his advantage, his grip on my neck all that kept me from bending too far under his force.
“Up.” He grabbed my hips, and I obeyed, wrapping my legs around him. Something thick and hard brushed against my center as he moved.
Maybe it should have scared me, but that throbbing only intensified.
He laid me on the bed with uncompromising tenderness. Then he kneeled at my feet and watched me, gaze tracing my neck to my breasts which heaved with every breath, the tight laces of my top feeling far too restrictive.
Slowly, he shrugged out of his jacket. In one smooth motion, he pulled the tunic over his head.
I greedily drank him in. His dusky nipples. The smattering of dark hair across his chest. The small white scars that peppered his brawn and strength. The reminder of the dark past he didn’t allow to swallow him.
I lifted to my elbows, needing to kiss him. One hand landed just below my collarbone and pushed me back down. “Not yet.”
Did he mean to torture me? Or perhaps himself? His length strained against his trousers, and while I didn’t know much, I knew that only happened if he wanted me in the way I wanted him.
“Eyes on mine, carella.” The deep command made my skin prick with awareness, the sensation only increasing when he came to kneel above my hips, his knees caging me in.