Chapter 18 #2
“And move quicker than any woman I’ve seen,” Jorius added. “You’re full of surprises.”
Color rose to her cheeks again beneath the praise. “It’s nothing,” she said, ducking her head. “Just… things I’ve picked up.”
But as I watched her, something in her expression didn’t sit right.
First Jorius with his warnings. Now this.
Doubt pressed in, unwelcome but insistent.
I’d given Jorius my biggest secret, handed it over like it meant nothing—and still both of them kept parts of themselves just out of reach.
The realization settled heavily, leaving me… alone. More than I’d been in days.
But I couldn’t afford to doubt them. Not now. Not when they were all I had. I wouldn’t survive here without them.
I shook off the thought as we entered the courtyard, leaving Livia behind. Wind tugged at my clothes, lifting sand that prickled my nose. I rubbed at it as Jorius veered off toward Rhenik and Ilyth, wishing me luck—particularly in keeping my hands to myself. I rolled my eyes and continued on alone.
The other Bondwards drifted through the entrance beside me, their voices dropping into low murmurs. Likely discussing us running out. I couldn’t care less. At least I was still alive.
For now.
Kharos was already awake when I reached his enclosure, his familiar green eyes finding mine.
The sight of him calmed me. I’d started to trust him—fully, more than I’d expected—and I sensed, somehow, that he trusted me too.
Thanor stood with him, bare-chested, sweat glistening along his skin.
I looked away as his gaze found me, already aware of my presence before I’d made a sound.
“You’re late.”
I sighed. Some days began by testing my restraint before I’d even gathered it.
Telling him about the attempt on my life wasn’t an option. He already thought I needed watching—hovering, intervening. Admitting a simple breakfast had nearly done me in would only prove his point. And the last thing I needed… was more of him.
“We’ve been training since before dawn,” he said evenly. “He took a hard blow to his leg. Nothing feels broken, but the muscle along his hind leg is tight.”
His eyes flicked to my hands.
“I want you to work it loose. Slow and deep.” A faint smirk touched his mouth. “If you can.”
Warmth rose to my cheeks. This man kept me in a constant state of awareness—of him, of myself. Refusing to rise to the bait, I gave him a simple nod.
I kept a measured distance from him and shifted toward Kharos.
His tail flicked once, slowly, before he padded toward me.
Thanor was watching both of us, his tension settling into something unreadable.
“You’ll remain here until you’re finished,” he said without looking at me.
“I’ll return for you afterward. We’re expected by the medicus. Don’t treat the muscle too harshly.”
As if anticipating my resistance, he turned, his stance widening.
This time, I gave him none.
“Alright. I’ll work him loose. Don’t worry. I know when a gentler approach is required.”
“Gentle,” he echoed as his mouth curved. “That doesn’t seem to be your preference… Not when I can still feel the sting of you on my tongue.”
Stunned that he would speak of it so openly, I remained quiet as my mind drifted toward the feel of his tongue in my mouth. Forcing it down, I studied Kharos—watched the steady rise and fall of his breath as the memory of the market drifted away again.
“You’re right,” I said after a moment. “But it did teach me something.”
When I looked back at him, my voice held no challenge. “Some things respond better when they aren’t forced.”
His hands twitched at his sides. For a moment, he didn’t look away. Then his eyes snapped to my ear. “Begin,” he said at last. Before he strode off without another word, his control carried with him like something held too tightly in check.
A slow breath left me as I bent toward Kharos.
His breathing remained deep and steady as I laid my hands along his leg, testing the muscle beneath my fingers.
It was tight—drawn from strain—but warm and responsive.
I worked slowly, pressing with measured pressure, following the line of tension rather than forcing it to release.
When I found a shallow scratch along his flank, I applied the last of my salve, working it in until the skin smoothed beneath my touch. I stayed with him until the sun rose high, until the rigidity eased and the mark faded from sight. After feeding and washing him, I motioned for him to move again.
He obeyed, pacing the enclosure in a slow circuit. I watched closely as he moved—his stride smooth and even now, no hesitation left behind, the stiffness gone, replaced by the easy, controlled power he carried when his body worked as it should.
Satisfied, I stroked his fur. Something almost playful glinted in his eyes. He bumped his massive head lightly against my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance. I caught myself with a breathless laugh, steadying my footing as my gaze flicked toward the warriors sparring on the sand.
It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him like this. Not here. Not where he was meant to be a weapon.
He yawned widely, his jaws stretching open inches from my face, warm breath washing over me.
His teeth were enormous, nearly the size of my entire hand.
It was strange how a creature so magnificent could maim without effort if he chose to snap, and yet be capable of such playfulness when he trusted you.
“You look large and menacing,” I murmured, studying him as he loomed over me. “But deep down, you’re soft and kind, aren’t you?”
Affection tugged at my mouth. “All that muscle—and a heart of gold,” I whispered.
His eyes flashed, a mischievous spark flickering in their depths.
Unbidden, the thought surfaced, whether Thanor had ever been anything like this. Whether there was anything in him that didn’t sharpen toward control. Whether he had ever allowed anyone close enough to see it.
A shadow fell over us.
“I see you’re finished,” Thanor said coolly. “Come. The medicus is waiting.”
He stepped past me, his tone cold as he ordered Kharos back into the shade. He chastised him for the display, reminding him they were surrounded by enemies.
“He was only relaxing,” I said, unable to stop myself. “He meant no harm.”
“He should know better. This place doesn’t reward kindness. Showing it invites punishment.”
The weight of his words remained, heavier than the moment required. I wondered who they were truly meant for. He was right, of course. But the thought that Kharos couldn’t simply be himself didn’t sit well with me.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll clean up.”
He adjusted his bracers as he spoke, leather creaking under his grip, then dragged a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face where it clung damp with sweat. Muscle shifted beneath his skin, heat rolling from him in steady waves as he straightened.
I hadn’t meant to stare. But I did anyway. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The path of sweat tracing downward before disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. It all drew me in.
The pull tightened.
My pulse followed. My body remembered before my mind could stop it—his weight, the press of his thigh between my legs, the way he had pinned me against the wall without effort.
He caught me looking and inhaled slowly, his mouth tilting with knowing satisfaction.
Color crept up my neck. I clenched my fists at my sides. “It’s the heat,” I said quickly. “It affects everyone.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can smell you.”
“One word,” he continued, his voice lowering as dark green eyes dragged over my face, my mouth, pausing at my breasts. “I’ll give you what you need.”
An ache pulsed low, reawakening what he’d stirred in me the day before.
Would he ever truly see me? The loneliness from this morning stirred again before I pushed it down. I’d only be trading one cage for another.
“You don’t know what I need. And I won’t lose my position for a moment’s indulgence.”
“So principled,” he murmured. Then he straightened. “Stay.”
He strode toward the water trough without another glance. Only then did I release the breath I’d been holding, the air around me suddenly lighter, almost deceptively calm. Before the sharp reminder that I wasn’t his to command could settle—
Cold flared punishingly through my piercing. I ducked on instinct.
Steel hissed past where my head had been only a heartbeat before, biting into the sand.
I spun, my heart hammering.
Sevrak stepped toward me, pressing his boot over the dagger before retrieving it slowly. He twirled it in his hand, his ease with the weapon unmistakable.
The scars crossing his face in the shape of an X pulled taut as his face hardened, rigid with something wild, something unrestrained.
“This dagger...” He stepped closer. “Will end up here.” His finger struck my chest—hard—stopping over my heart. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut.”
I said nothing. Fear held me too still. The words stayed locked behind my ribs, where my breath should have been. This was the second time today I’d almost been killed.
A low growl rolled across the courtyard.
Kharos.
The sound carried through stone and sand alike, heavy with promise. It didn’t go unanswered. Across the sand, Sevrak’s saber Voryx lifted his head, his massive white-striped frame going still. Blue eyes locked onto Kharos as a low, answering growl rumbled from his chest.
Kharos’s growl deepened into a snarl as his massive frame slammed against the bars of his enclosure, metal rattling under the force. His fur stood on end, muscles straining as if he might tear free at any moment.
A chill ran up my spine. I had no doubt that if he ever broke free, there would be nothing left of Sevrak but blood and bone. And yet… he didn’t frighten me. Not truly. His violence wasn’t meant for me.