Chapter 13 #3
The gap between us closes until our bodies are flush.
His scent envelops me like a warm blanket, filling the air with the aroma of a cool breeze rushing off the raging seas, freshly squeezed citrus, and masculinity.
My mouth waters, my body betraying me, the undeniable need between my thighs pulsing like a heartbeat of its own.
I passed on my Nakata corset again, so my full breasts brush against the soft material, hardening my nipples.
The air is alive with our Bond, the vibrant hues almost palpable, the room a kaleidoscope of colors that dance around us, making my heart beat in perfect rhythm.
“You can’t save me from everyone,” I say harshly.
“Then stop making it look so damn tempting.”
My heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. He leans in close enough that I can feel the rough scrape of his stubbled chin lightly brush against my cheek, sending another wave of shivers through my overly sensitized body.
His voice is a soft whisper, the air brushing my ear intimately.
“And do not think for a single second you don’t need to know how to fight a guy off.
” His nose drags along my cheek as he stands to his full height, his sapphire eyes settling on me again.
“The least of your worries is your Bond at this point.”
I look down at my gown, brushing my hands down the material. “Do you see what I’m wearing? I can’t do anything in this dress,” I argue back, gesturing to my gown, but it falls flat, my voice softer and breathless and nothing like mine.
He smirks knowingly, his gaze relaying just how happy he is about my clothing.
He sucks in his bottom lip, his gaze snagging on my breasts.
I let my eyes wander, taking in all of him, including his tattoo peeking over the collar of his shirt, and a presence that demands every last bit of my attention.
“You need to learn to defend yourself, even dressed like this,” he instructs, his tone shifting to sober. “Fight me off, Raea.”
Before I can process what he’s saying, his arms wrap around me.
The warmth of his body engulfs me at the exact moment a burst of energy explodes between us.
The Bond kindles a storm of confusion, excitement, vulnerability, and something more profound, almost primal.
He must sense it as he pauses. We both stand there, chests heaving, breaths mingling, all while the world fades away.
Despite my mental alarms ringing, there’s an undeniable rightness to being in his arms. For a brief moment, I feel weightless, as if gravity no longer exists, as I lean into his hold. His arms gently embrace me as if he, too, has forgotten what we’re doing.
After a few seconds, minutes, hours, who knows, the shock begins to settle, and clarity returns, reality slamming into me like a slap to the face. With resolve, I attempt to push him away, focusing on the goal and not the fact that I miss the tenderness with which he held me.
He snaps out of whatever moment we just had, and his arms grip me tighter. “C’mon, Raea,” he taunts, clicking his tongue. “Stop playing.”
Any lingering emotions dissolve instantly. My training rushes back to me. I hear Ezra’s voice in my head, repeating instructions from a similar lesson. I had been on the training mats on the palace grounds, and a member of our royal guard had agreed to train with me for this specific exercise.
“Don’t let them get their arms around you,” Ezra had said. “But if they do, bring your knee up...hard. Don’t hesitate, Raea.” The memory fades as I struggle with Anders’ arms still wrapped around me. Knee him where it hurts.
I force back a giggle and wrap my arms around his neck, toying with his hair. When he’s distracted, his eyes studying me, I bring up my knee while pulling myself up on his neck, needing to use him for leverage.
Shock flashes across his features before he chuckles, brushing my knee away just in time. My leg hooks around him, causing him to stumble as I throw myself back, pulling him off balance.
He grunts at the sudden shift, throwing out his arms to catch our fall, easing my body to the ground beneath him with surprising gentleness. I half expected to be crushed under his weight.
He grins, glancing between us, studying how I’ve managed to pin myself beneath him. Embarrassment floods my body as I cover my face with my hands.
I’ve read enough romance novels to fill my head with sinful thoughts, and boy, are those visions flashing through my mind right now. His weight settles between my legs, my skirts sliding up my thighs, making me gasp as I shift my hips.
I gently place my hands on his shoulders, trying to create some space, though I’m not entirely sure if I want to push him away or draw him closer.
“Come on, Raea. It feels like you’re inviting me to take it from you. Set your defenses now,” he asserts.
I close my eyes, going to my mental shield.
In my mind, I visualize a tall, white iron gate closing off the source of our Bond.
With Anders, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that a gate isn’t going to hold back our Bond.
An iridescent light radiates from him on one side and from me on the other, flowing along the winding path through the lush forest of my thoughts.
It’s a reminder of just how strong our Bond really is.
He chuckles darkly, and dammit, if that doesn’t turn my core molten.
“That’s a sorry excuse for a shield,” he throws back.
His breath tickles my neck. So many images of how I’d like his hands to run down my sides, the feel of his mouth on my neck, how he feels settled between my legs, the safety and comfort of his weight pinning me to the mat. It’s all too much and not enough.
Get control of yourself, I chide myself. Focus.
Taking a deep breath, I push again, yelling for him to get off me. He chuckles, wrapping his calloused hands around my wrists and pinning them above my head. He smirks, challenging me with a lifted brow.
“You got us into this mess. Get us out,” he responds with a devilish spark in his eyes as he leans back slightly, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.
My heart races between annoyance and determination.
My frustration is mainly directed at myself for letting us end up in this situation in the first place.
“And since we’re here,” he pauses. “I got us a pass to the Isles. We can go whenever.”
I stop fighting immediately. “What? How?”
He grins, his dimple making a very distracting appearance. “I have my ways. I’m very good at negotiating and getting what I want.” I swear I feel his hips shift. I gulp down the desire burning me alive.
With an exasperated sigh, I thrust my arms up as I wrap my legs around him, throwing my weight, attempting to get out from under him. His quiet chuckle fuels my frustration over this whole thing.
“What was the point of turning on my energy shield if you were just planning on lying on me?” I grumble, yanking on my wrists with another feeble attempt to break free.
“To protect you, but it seems like you prefer to distract your enemies...in other ways.” His eyes dip to my chest, where my gown has shifted, exposing the swells of my breasts.
The energy shields never help with slow attacks. They block fast and brutal attacks, but nothing about this is fast. I’m not even sure this is an attack or even training.
Whatever this is, it’s slow, and sensual, and dammit.
I struggle, wrapping my legs around his, attempting to buck under him, and gods, I can’t think.
Everything feels sexual, and the way the friction rubs at just the right spot has me curling my toes.
He groans when my legs wrap around his waist as I thrust up again, still pathetically telling myself we’re supposed to be training.
I’m breathless, and I’m hot, and quite frankly, way too turned on for this to actually work.
We both know that it’s all a front at this point.
Accepting the truth and defeat, I relax under him, my body going soft and pliant. “Nobody is getting this close. Not when I have you, remember?” I smile with all the practiced sweet patience possible. “I promised to be a good girl.”
He huffs, a groan hidden in his breath, muttering what sounds like a curse.
“Now be a good little prince and get off me.”
He chuckles and shifts over me, making me gasp when I feel his growing erection against my thigh. I let my legs fall to the side, the cool air of the gym informing me of how exposed I truly am.
He releases his grip on my wrists, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer as if he’s reluctant to let me go. Supporting himself on his forearms, he leans closer, whispering another challenge, “Make me.”
A soft huff of air leaves me as his gaze lingers on my lips.
We inch closer, the distance closing ever so slowly.
Every heartbeat is a challenge and a question lingering between us, urging us to close the distance, seeing who’s brave enough to move first. My tongue brushes over my bottom lip, wetting it in anticipation.
My head is screaming at me that he’s supposed to be my rival, but somewhere deep inside, my soul is screaming something else—my destiny.
The war between them feels like it’s tearing me apart.
For now, just for this moment, I silence everything and focus only on the present. Destiny can wait.
His hand gently glides down my arm, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps. My white locks cascade out around me, framing my face. He picks up a single strand of hair, allowing his fingers to brush through it tenderly. His touch travels down over my ribs and along my back, bringing us closer.
As we lean in, so close we’re sharing air, the world around us fades to a distant blur as if time itself has been suspended. Just as our mouths are about to meet, the sound of voices echoing in the hallway shatters the spell between us. My heart sinks.
I catch his gaze, both of us sharing a fleeting moment of unspoken longing before his jaw ticks, and his mask snaps back into place. In an instant, he pulls away, both physically and emotionally. He stands quickly, adjusting his clothes.
The swift shift sends a chill coursing through me, leaving me acutely aware of his absence, both his body and vulnerability. My breath whooshes out of me as tears threaten to spill over.
“Lesson over,” he states, his voice steady, yet tinged with an unnameable emotion, turning as he avoids my gaze. His body language suggests he’s struggling to walk away, but his mask of indifference is firmly in place, and behind it lurks the distant, arrogant prick.
“Don’t go,” I plead, my thoughts becoming words on my breath.
His eyes shudder closed, his fists clenching at his sides, before he shakes his head, walking away from me.
“I have to, Raea. Trysten will be training you from here on out.” His voice grows distant and cold.
“I’ll tell him to connect with you. Training starts tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow at breakfast.”
I watch him disappear, something in my heart cracking. The absence of his warmth is a sudden, sharp ache, leaving me trembling in the cavernous silence of the gym.