Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Warm golden light spreads across my lids, pulling me out of slumber. I roll onto my side, opening my eyes to the sunlight coming in through the window. Blinking, I rub away the sleep from around my eyes, then sit up quickly.
Oh Fates. Is that the setting sun? I sure hope so, otherwise we have to leave immediately.
“Hello, beautiful.” Mikael sits at the table in the corner, taking a bite of the meal laid out before him.
“What time is it?” I ask in a rush, jumping out of the bed.
“Whoa, it’s only sunset.” Mikael adds food to a plate and puts it in front of the empty seat across from him. “Come, eat. We need to replenish our energy before the next trial. Coffee?”
I nod, and he pours me a cup. My racing heart and nerves settle now that I know I didn’t sleep the whole day and night. He’s bathed, and any trace of what happened to us has disappeared from his bare chest. At least he’s wearing pants—new ones from the look of them.
Mikael’s gaze doesn’t meet mine; instead it’s resting lower. “Your neck is still bruised.”
“It’ll go away soon enough.” The bruises from the female vampire’s bite will last for days, bearing the marks of the attack. Now I know for certain, it’s the curse that’s causing my healing to slow. Not that there was anything major, just the normal cuts and bruises from training or bar fights.
“You haven’t been healing? Since the curse activated?” he asks, concern dripping from his tongue like the honey on the bread he’s holding. It’s sweet, but sticky. Answering will only lead to more questions, and I am quite hungry at the moment.
I respond with a short and clipped, “I’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head in frustration. “That’s not the point.”
I slide into the wooden seat and look at the spread of food.
Bread, sausages, and various fruits are piled onto a large platter in the middle of the table.
Mikael added my favorite berries and two pieces of sausages along with a roll onto my plate.
Just like I used to order when we’d visit other cities together.
When I look up, he’s watching me, waiting for my reaction. Instead of wasting time with more conversation, I enjoy the still-warm food.
Josef must have known that we’d sleep for a while. He’s always been perceptive, and today I’m extra grateful for it. I bite into the roll. It’s warm and fluffy, and I moan in enjoyment.
“Mmh.” Mikael stabs his fork into a berry and waves it around between us. “I can’t wait until I’m the reason you make that sound.”
I roll my eyes, lean forward, and take the berry from his fork with my mouth. “You’ll never stop waiting then. So, this next clue; has it appeared anywhere on your body?”
“Nope. You?” Mikael stares at me for a moment before stabbing another berry, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the utensil.
“No.”
Mikael sits back and enjoys the rest of his food while I do the same.
When I finish the last of my meal, I take a sip of coffee and say, “I need to send a missive to Peylin. Ask her to check for any new vampires in the city. I’m going to have them quarantined until I can verify they aren’t your king’s assassins.
Speaking of, what did they mean by ‘his last words’? ”
He stills, and his voice turns icy. “King Ignatus is dead.”
“Dead?” I almost choke on my coffee. Hearing him say the words spreads a chill along my spine.
“Yes.” His eyes flick up to mine, and there’s a raging conflict within them.
“Care to tell me more?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Your new clothes are in the bathing chamber,” is his only response.
I know by his stiff tones and defensive body language that he’s closed himself off.
I’ll save my questions for another time, sure that he won’t answer any more right now.
I nod, lips tight, and get up. I knew it could never be the same between us.
We’ve spent too much time apart. We both have too many new secrets neither wants the other to know.
I stop at the desk to write my note to Peylin, then fold and seal it with wax. Handing it to Mikael, I say, “Keep a low profile. Only give it to Josef, then come right back.”
He looks up at me. “Thank you.”
I know he’s referring to me not asking him more questions, but it wasn’t out of goodwill for him. It was because I knew he wouldn’t tell me, and I’d get more annoyed—even angry, if I tried to push the matter.
Mikael reaches out and grabs both the paper and my hand. He gently kisses the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist. I’m about to yank my hand back when black tendrils of ink spawn along the inside of my wrist and circle it, weaving around my arm.
I pull my hand away, and when his lips are no longer on my skin, the ink disappears. I groan and turn in a circle, running my hands through my hair.
What. Is. This. Curse’s. Problem.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, working through why it would escalate from touch to intimacy.
The curse is tied to my soul, which in turn is linked to my bond with Mikael. If this curse is placed on someone you love, then it must try to force the persons involved to have some reconciliation before death, or in breaking the curse.
I’d love to find whoever created this curse and let them know exactly what I think about the way it wants me to reconcile with him.
“The next riddle…” He stands and grips my shoulders.
I shove him toward the door. “Please send the missive. I’ll be dressed when you get back.”
Turning away from him, I enter the bathing chamber and slam the door closed, sliding down the back of it. When I hear the outer door shut, my chest heaves, and I break into a sob. Tears stream down my face as I let it all out.
How badly his betrayal hurt.
How the breaking of my heart had nearly killed me. How being in his presence again is as comforting as it is infuriating. I don’t want to be with him again. But I miss the way we loved each other. How deeply someone had cared for me.
Giving us up took everything. Even after the betrayal, I had to twist every moment we had into a dark and horrid narrative so I’d stop loving him.
And now a kiss activates the next riddle.
I’m not sure what I did to deserve this curse. Why did his king have to hate me so much?
I inhale, expanding my lungs to their capacity, and slowly exhale. I get up and wash my face, letting the cold water shock me back into the hardened version of myself.
I lean over the wash basin and look up into the mirror. The vampire’s bite bruised my neck, and it’s still green and yellow. Mikael would heal me if I asked, but I won’t do it. I never have.
I give myself a shake and quickly dress, throwing on the new black leather pants and white tunic. I leave the vest and socks for later, when we’re ready to leave, preferring comfort while we’re here—since I know it won’t last.
Okay. I pull in a deep breath and exhale. Kissing reveals the riddle. I can either hate this or enjoy it. What’s a kiss with an ex? Easy. Right? At this point, I’m just going to believe that.
When I open the door, Mikael’s sitting on his bed, brows furrowed in concentration.
He’s holding a brown leather notepad open against his thighs, sweeping a charcoal pencil across a page.
I tilt my head, watching him silently for a moment.
He’s using the same kind of notebook he always used to carry.
We’d stop anytime he saw something he wanted to capture so he could sketch it.
I’m surprised he still does it.
“What are you drawing?” I ask.
“You.” His eyes flick up to my face, then back down to his notebook.
“How many times have you sketched me over the past two hundred years?” I ask, intrigued.
“More than a few.” Mikael looks up and gives me a wry smile. He puts away his sketchbook and pats the spot on the mattress next to him. “Come here.”
Instead of sitting next to him, I straddle his lap and lean my head to the side. “Kiss where she bit me.”
“Gladly.” Instantly, his lips are on my skin.
Sure enough, black tendrils swirl up my arm, starting at my wrist and ending at my elbow. Words slowly form. “Mikael. Part of the riddle is on my arm.”
When he stops and looks at my arm, the ink doesn’t disappear. Interesting. Before, he kissed me without consent, and when I pulled my arm away, the ink disappeared. So, if I want his to appear, I’ll have to want to kiss him and with his permission. Well, the second part won’t be hard.
“Will you accept my kiss?”
“You never need to ask. The answer will always be yes. Even though I know this has to do with the riddle.” He leans back and runs a finger through strands of my hair, tucking them behind my ear. “The question, Bryn, is do you want to?”
I lean forward, pressing my chest against his bare skin. “Sometimes. And sometimes I still want to stab you.”
“I meant what I said when I first found you. I’d let you stab me every day if it meant you’d be mine again.” Mikael’s hands rest on the swell of my ass as he slides me forward, sealing our bodies together. The hardness of him presses against my pelvis.
“You shouldn’t make it that easy.” I rock my hips, creating friction between our clothed bodies.
“Why? I know what I want.” His arm slides around my waist as he rises and twists us around. He playfully drops me onto the bed, then hovers over me. “Kiss me, Bryn. Please.”
I slide my fingers into his blond hair and pull his head down, pressing his mouth to mine. My hands move to his shoulders, feeling every corded muscle as they roam down his arm, then up his chest.
I kiss him the way we did in the dream.
The way I used to.
Because I did enjoy it.
I wanted his touch, the pleasure he was willing to give me, even if it was a trick. That moment was a reminder of what it was like before everything happened. He lets me take the lead. Letting me explore while matching me stroke for stroke.
Oh, I’ve missed how he used to kiss me.
“Not that long ago you told me your lips would never grace mine again.” His voice is little more than a whisper against the corner of my mouth.
“Well, I did what I had to in order to get the clue.” I push against his chest, putting distance between us and shrug. Better to stop now than get lost in lust that I won’t be able to fight.
“How long are you going to deny how you feel?” Irritation laces his voice, his arms folding over his chest.
“Denying and avoiding are two different things. There is no point when you’re going to be gone after this is over,” I spit back, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
Mikael steps between my legs and leans down. His hands frame my body, forcing me onto my elbows. His voice gets lower, seductive even. “You wanted it in the pixie glen.”
“You told me you didn’t remember!” I put a hand to his chest and push, catching some of the words inked onto my arm—greed, slumbers, ice, secrets—but ignore the rest until we both get out whatever it is we need to say. “We’re too messy. Too much history and hurt to breeze past.”
Mikael throws his hands up with a rough growl escaping from his throat. “You are infuriating. I can hear your heartbeat. You try so hard to ignore how you really feel. The heart doesn’t lie.”
I quickly rise off the bed. In my best cold and calculated tone, I say, “Just because my body lusts for you doesn’t mean I want to love you again. To fully open myself to you. How do you not get that?”
I’m furious at this point, and I throw another insult before he can respond. “Fucking doesn’t mean loving. Do you want me to fuck you just so you can feel better about yourself? Get what you crave? Will that be enough?”
He blows out a breath, his head dropping in defeat. He turns from me, rises from the bed, and walks toward the door. One word of the riddle that’s appeared on his left arm stands out. Beast.
“I’ll be back.” I hardly hear his words as he grabs the doorknob.
“Mikael.” He ignores me when I call out to him, so I yell his name more sternly. “Mikael!”
“What?” he snaps, turning his head in my direction.
A wet sheen coats his beautiful gray eyes. He holds it well, but what I said hurt him. It wasn’t a lie, but I’m still grappling with how to feel about him.
This first trial made it clear to me that I still love him. That I was burying those feelings behind hatred, masking them with pain.
But I can’t let him in again.
I knew this would be the issue I’d face when having to spend time around him again. Especially if each challenge uncovers more of our bond tattoo.
“I think I know where we need to go next,” I say softly.
He’s halfway out the door when he responds. “Tell me when I return.”
“You don’t have a shirt on.” I toss one of the clean linens at him. He catches it and walks out.
The door gently clicks shut. The sound of it pulls at something within me. My words were harsh. I recognize that. But I have to protect my sanity.
My heart.