Chapter 24
Istared at the space Vaeron’s broad shoulders had disappeared until my heart ceased racing. The echo of the lock sliding into place had long since silenced. Yet my mind was a hive of activity, and wrapping understanding around the last half hour of my life was like trying to grasp a thundercloud.
The Issaraeth had snooped in my mind or I’d unknowingly projected my thoughts, and yet instead of dismissing it, he’d done something thoughtful with it. He’d asked, specifically, what he could do to return to me something I loved.
After he’d already taken so much.
The reminder didn’t have the teeth it used to. Not after he handled my broken knee with tenderness that didn’t belong to a merciless killer.
And that frightened me like nothing else ever had. That the male who had slit the throat of my attacker right in front of me could be achingly gentle.
Until I threw it in his face like scalding water, trying to cleanse us both of the sin.
My knee ached terribly, but knowing that I had a chance of dancing again…it was everything. It was worth the struggle to sleep that would undoubtedly come. The poppy helped, especially the purple mix that sent me straight into oblivion, but I didn’t want to be that unconscious tonight.
Because as I processed everything that had happened, I realized that this was the only room available, and that meant the Issaraeth would be sleeping in here.
With me.
I glanced at the bed, which I currently sat in the center of. But if I scooted one way or the other, there was enough space for my mate to join me.
Is that his plan?
Sweat broke out on my spine, and I shucked off the blanket, hands shaking. With the fire now roaring, and the possibility of my mate sleeping close enough to touch, it was far too hot in this room.
The bond purred like a predatory cat. I wanted to shake some sense into it. There was no way this was happening. Not when he had slaughtered an entire group of males with no remorse, right in front of me. Demonstrated his skill and violence in brutal strikes of his sword.
Not when that fleeting feeling of safety arose alongside the memories of their blood dotting my skin.
It had been impossible to think when his face was an inch from mine.
I hated it. So, so much.
The tumult of emotion made my head spin. I pressed my fingers into my temples, massaging there and trying to relieve some tension.
He was brutally handsome. That much was impossible to deny. And the magic of our connection was clearly forcing us together, then rewarding our proximity.
It was the only reason heat pooled low in my belly, my body betraying me with every pulse.
The door creaked open, accompanied by the heavy footfalls of my mate. Air ceased movement in my lungs as the chain between us tightened with his approach. My chest expanded again with the heavenly scent of roasted vegetables and a savory sauce.
The Issaraeth carried a tray to the bed, setting it over my lap much like he had when I awoke in the healer’s room.
To my shock, a bottle of white wine waited at the top corner.
Before I could assemble a single coherent thought, he plucked it and wrapped his fingers around the neck.
Light magic hugged the slim space between cork and glass, wedging it out.
He poured a healthy measure into two cups on the tray, then grabbed one for himself.
“Should help with the pain,” he grunted, not meeting my gaze.
I gaped at him, unable to smooth my expression.
He merely turned his back on me and moved like he was going to leave again. “Where are you going?” The words slipped past—too fast, too revealing.
He stopped, shoulders tensing beneath his dark tunic. His iron-gray hair was a mess atop his head, and the knot dropped as he released a heavy sigh. “To eat.”
“By yourself?” I clarified.
Why are you asking like you care, Sylaira?
The Issaraeth tipped his head over his shoulder, giving me a glimpse of a glacier. “Would you like me to dine with you instead?”
The tiniest tilt of his lips told me he was amused. And that was terrifying. This male was dangerous. Fire and ice. Rage and silence. A dichotomy I was only beginning to understand.
I swallowed down my drink, then put the glass at the top of the tray. “Tell me we’re not sharing.” I gestured to the steaming stew.
He lifted a brow. “I can fetch my own, but if you insist.”
A sound of disbelief slipped out of me as his mouth turned up at the corner. “I would never want to share a spoon with you. That’s disgusting.”
“We share a bond,” he pointed out, crossing his arms as he braced against the wall behind him in a move that was entirely too alluring.
“Doesn’t mean we have to share anything else,” I countered. Like this bed, though I didn’t say that part aloud for fear of speaking it into existence.
He sighed. “Is that a yes or a no?”
I wiggled the toes on my good leg while I considered.
On the one hand, I didn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary.
On the other, I didn’t want someone else to try to take me.
I’d been petrified when one attacker had pinned my legs while he sawed off the rope tying me to the cart.
At least with the Issaraeth, I knew where I stood.
Those males?
Well, maybe my mate had been right and they would have hurt me before turning me in for a bounty.
So finally, I said, “If you can eat standing.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he grunted and shoved off the wall, setting his drink on a table.
The moment the door closed behind him, I unclenched every muscle holding me still. What was it today that had my soul lurching sideways?
I picked up the spoon and dug it into the stew.
Blowing on it for a moment, I waited for it to cool before taking a bite.
The seasoning was divine. Perfectly salted, with a hint of pepper among the other savory spices, the taste melted into my tongue.
Along with the tender vegetables. On my second bite, I encountered a hunk of gamey meat.
In this part of the forest, that likely meant a deer of some type.
I’d consumed half my bowl by the time the Issaraeth returned. He plopped another fluffy roll on my tray before retreating to the washbasin with his own meal. I kept my head down, eating until only broth remained, which I sopped up with the bread.
Afterward, I took a long drink of wine. Warmth spread through my limbs as the alcohol worked its way into my system. “Tell me, Issaraeth,” I said, draining the glass, “why you are being so kind to me. What do you want?”
He paused with the spoon halfway to his lips. Remained there as he stared at me. Finally, he dropped it back into the stew. “You are my mate.”
He said those four words like they meant something.
“So?” I pressed on, boldness sharpening my tongue. “You’re going to hand me over to your sister the moment we arrive in Sivy, are you not? So why squander what little kindness you possess on me?”
Something flashed in his eyes, and he looked away like the fire was suddenly infinitely more interesting than me.
“It’s your duty, Issaraeth,” I reminded him.
His gaze thundered back to meet mine. His chest rose—slow and dangerous—as he set his food aside. “Do you like when I am cruel, little fugitive?”
In three swift strides, he towered over me.
“Are you addicted to pain?” Two large hands framed my head. Sinewy muscle flexed as he edged in, his face inches from mine. “Because I can make this hurt. In fact, I might enjoy breaking you with how frequently you use that mouth for your own cruelty.”
“I am not–” I started to protest, only to cut myself off with a sharp click of my teeth.
I had been awful to him. I couldn’t deny the overtness of my hatred at all hours of the day.
But it was only because I was protecting myself.
He’d hurt so many people. He hunted me down. He was the reason my knee was broken.
And yet with him close enough to feel the brush of his stubble against my cheek, I couldn’t bring up those dark emotions.
Every nerve in my body was primed like a lightning strike for the moment he might touch me.
Our bond vibrated with the barest hint of restraint, like it was waiting for the moment to twist itself so tight we couldn’t possibly peel away.
“You will never break me.” The breath in my throat trembled, though the words did not.
A low, rumbling laugh raised the hairs on my arms. “We’ll see about that, little fugitive.”
Yet he didn’t retreat.
Because he wouldn’t? Or he couldn’t?
A jagged inhale filled my nostrils with his stormwood scent. It was so fresh, so cold, so very masculine. And so very him.
“Sylaira,” he crooned my name. My eyes fluttered closed.
“Yes?” I asked, the word trembling past my lips.
“I was never supposed to want anything.” The velvet of his voice enveloped me. His hot breath ghosted over my ear. “I have always been a weapon. A monster, as you have called me so often. And yet, I cannot help but want you. When they attacked us…”
I interrupted him before he could finish. “It’s just the bond.”
Heat retreated, and I looked up at my mate. The dark expression he wore robbed me of air. It was all cruel truth and barely restrained violence. “There is a difference between want and need, desire and duty. Remember that once we reach Thalvireth.”
He took a healthy step away and then turned his back on me. I blinked, trying to clear my head of him. The chain screeched as he put more space between us, his stride hitching before he leaned on the wall once again. Without looking at me, he returned to his meal.
A knock sounded on the door, and with an annoyed huff, he trotted down the spiraling steps and opened it. A feminine voice floated up to me, and moments later, a matron emerged from the depths, arms laden with a thick stack of blankets.
“Hello, dear,” she greeted me warmly. “Good to see you enjoyed my cooking.”
“It was delicious,” I told her in measured beats, wary of her friendliness.