Chapter 38 #3
I opened my mouth to say something flippant.
Safe. Anything that wouldn’t expose the raw, desperate truth that I’d spent the last seven days hunting through the castle looking for him because I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands in my hair, his mouth on mine, the way my entire body had ignited under his touch before I’d frozen like a fucking coward and let him walk away.
“Maybe I wanted to—”
Fix it. Tell you I panicked. Feel your hands on me again without ghosts between us.
But the words wouldn’t come. So I circled him instead, let my body say what my mouth wouldn’t. Let my hips sway just slightly, let my fingers trail along my own collarbone in a gesture that could have been stretching but wasn’t.
Fuck it.
“Maybe I wanted to finish what we started.”
Varyth’s eyes went wide. Just for a heartbeat. Then something shuttered behind them, confusion bleeding into something I couldn’t understand.
“Isara—” He started, then stopped. His throat worked. “I don’t—what do you—”
I struck.
Not hard enough to hurt, just fast enough to test his reflexes. His hand came up instinctively, catching my wrist mid-strike with fingers that were strong and sure and far too gentle for combat. The contact burned. A brand of heat that raced up my arm and lodged somewhere in my chest.
“What are you doing?” His voice had gone rough, his grip tightening fractionally on my wrist.
“Hand to hand combat,” I said, twisting out of his grip and sweeping low, aiming for his legs. “Wasn’t that the agreement?”
He stepped back just in time, his movements fluid despite the tension riding his shoulders. I pressed forward, throwing a combination that he blocked easily.
I lunged again, this time managing to get inside his guard. For a heartbeat we were close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the way his pupils had blown wide, could watch his throat work as he swallowed.
“Isara.”
I didn’t step back.
Instead, I pressed closer. A deliberate shift that brought my body flush against his, close enough to feel the thunder of his pulse beneath my palm where I pressed it against his chest. His heart was racing. Absolutely hammering against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest.
Good.
“My name sounds different when you say it like that,” I murmured, tilting my head to look up at him. “Like a warning. Or a plea. I can’t quite decide which.”
His throat worked. Swallowed. His hands hovered at his sides like he couldn’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer, tension vibrating through every line of his body.
Then his fingers found my waist—tentative at first, like he was waiting for me to bolt. When I didn’t move, didn’t pull away, his grip tightened. Just enough to feel the heat of his palms burning through the thin fabric of my training clothes.
His jaw clenched so hard I heard teeth grind. “This isn’t—” He cut himself off, eyes searching mine with an intensity that should have been illegal.
Stars, he was flustered. Actually, genuinely flustered. This devastating bastard who could fold reality like paper was coming undone because I’d pressed against him and touched his chest.
How fucking delicious.
“This isn’t what?” I prompted, letting my fingers trace lower, following the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. “Combat? You’re right. This is far more interesting than combat.”
His breath hitched. His fingers tightened on my waist, enough pressure to bruise, to brand, to make my breath shudder. “You shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what?” I was enjoying this far too much. Watching him unravel. Watching that perfect control splinter like glass beneath my touch. “Touch you? But you’re touching me, Varyth. Seems only fair.”
“That’s not—” Another swallow. Another flex of those fingers at my waist. “I’m not—this isn’t—”
He could barely form complete sentences. Somehow, I’d reduced this articulate, infuriating man to broken words and ragged breathing just by standing close and putting my hands on him.
I should have felt triumphant. Victorious. Like I’d won.
But there was something else in his eyes. It looked almost like... pain.
“I can’t,” he said finally, the words wrenched from somewhere deep. “I can’t do this with you.”
“Can’t?” I pressed closer, defiant, refusing to let him retreat. “Or won’t?”
“Both.” His hands were on my waist, his grip desperate now. Like he was holding on and trying to push away at the same time. “Neither. I don’t—”
“You don’t what?” Frustration bled into my voice. “You don’t want this? Because your body is telling me something very different.”
His laugh was bitter, broken. “Of course I want—” He stopped, his gaze sliding away from mine. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” My palm was pressed against his chest, feeling that frantic heartbeat. “What’s stopping you?”
“You are.” The words were quiet. Devastating. “You’re what’s stopping me.”
I reeled back like he’d struck me. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means.” His jaw worked. “It means you’ve made your choice. And I’m trying to respect that. Even if it’s killing me.”
“What choice?” My voice rose, edged with confusion. “What are you even talking about?”
“Don’t.” The word was harsh. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“What choice? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“I really fucking don’t.” My hands were still on his chest, his heart hammering like it was trying to escape his ribcage. “So how about you use your words and actually tell me instead of speaking in cryptic bullshit?”
His hands tightened on my waist, hard enough to bruise. “You made it very clear where your interests lie. I’m respecting that. Even if watching it is—”
He stepped back. Put distance between us that felt like miles.
“But I can’t—” His hands flexed at his sides, mist curling around his fingers. “I can’t keep doing this.”
He turned.
And walked away.
I stood there, frozen, every muscle locked in place as that broad back retreated. The distance between us stretched and stretched until he rounded a corner and vanished completely.
The training yard was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat thundering against my ribs.
Then I turned.
Everyone was staring at me.
The amusement had drained from their faces like water from a broken cup. Shaelith’s eyes were shadowed with what looked like sympathy. Brynelle had gone very still against her wife’s chest. Linc’s smirk had vanished entirely. Fenric looked like he’d just watched someone die.
And Darian’s expression was devastated.
“Well,” he said quietly, his focus fixed on me. “That was heartbreaking.”
Something snapped.
“What the fuck?” I snapped. “What was that about?”
Nobody answered.
“Seriously.” I took a step toward them. Then another.
“You all clearly know something I don’t.
You’ve been watching us like it’s some kind of entertainment.
Grinning like idiots. And now—” I gestured wildly at the empty space where Varyth had been.
“Now you look like someone kicked a puppy. So what the fuck is his problem?”
Still nothing.
“Talk. One of you. Now.”
Darian exchanged a glance with Eilrys. She gave a tiny nod.
“Isara—” he started.
“Don’t.” I cut him off. “Don’t you dare try to manage me right now. Just tell me what the hell everyone seems to understand except me.”
“You need to talk to Varyth.” Darian sighed. “Actually talk to him.”
“Fine.”
The word came out flat. Hard. I was already turning, already moving toward where Varyth had disappeared.
“Isara.” Darian’s voice rose. “I didn’t mean right now.”
But I was done listening.
Done with cryptic conversations and half-truths and everyone dancing around what they actually meant. Done with guilt and confusion and feeling like I was drowning in the space between what I wanted and what I thought I should want.
“Let her go,” I heard Eilrys say behind me.
“But he’s—”
“I know what he’s doing.” Her tone was patient. “And she needs to catch him before he locks himself in his chambers for the next three days.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” Darian muttered.
Their voices faded as I stalked through the castle corridors, following the path Varyth had taken. My heart was a war drum in my chest. My hands were shaking with anger, or fear or something I didn’t have a name for.