Chapter 24 #2
She rounded the end of the bed and spread her pile in front of the fire. “Will that be enough, Herr R?viel?” she asked the Issaraeth.
“Aye, thank you,” he replied.
The female approached me then, lifting my tray from my lap. “I’ll have breakfast for you bright and early so you can get going. I know you have a long journey ahead.”
“Goodnight,” the Issraeth said by way of dismissal. She shot me a wink before disappearing the way she’d come.
I shifted on the bed. “Is that where you are going to sleep?”
My mate regarded me, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. The predatory look made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Would you prefer me to lie beside you?”
“No,” I said in a rush. “I just didn’t think the head of House R?viel would deign to sleep on the floor.”
He gulped down the last of his wine, then poured himself another measure. “I slept on little more than a bedroll beneath a canvas tarp while hunting you. A real roof over my head is an upgrade, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” I said, fingers tightening in the sheets. “Can I use the privy before we go to sleep? I’m assuming there’s not one in here.”
“There’s not.”
Which meant he would have to carry me down those stairs again.
“Do you need to go now?”
I nodded and shuffled to the edge of the bed so lifting me would be easier. The Issaraeth’s powerful frame ducked down and scooped me up like I weighed nothing. Like when he’d carried me earlier, my skin burned at every point of contact.
Each muscle was tense, and not from fear that he’d drop me.
The wine had relaxed me enough that each jostling step was nothing more than a drop of pain in the back of my mind. Instead, I was wholly consumed by my mate.
I hated myself for it.
The bathing chamber turned out to be a shared space between all rooms. It was blissfully empty when we entered. The Issaraeth placed me gently on my feet between the wall and the privy, giving me a place to balance myself so as not to put weight on my bad leg.
“I’ll be right outside,” he promised, though all threat had evaporated from his tone.
“Okay,” I replied, waiting until he had shut the door behind him to start tugging on my waistband to lower my leggings.
After a few awkward hops, I managed to seat myself. Tucking my tunic up, I ensured I’d be clean by the time I finished. Yet when I tried to rise, I struggled and failed, collapsing back onto the seat with a curse.
“Everything okay in there?” the Issaraeth asked through the door.
Embarrassment tinged my cheeks. “Fine!” The last thing I wanted was for him to enter and find me helpless like this.
Gritting my teeth, I dove into my well of light and tugged.
White dripped around me, and I wound it around my body, then yanked myself upright.
Suspended by my magic, I wriggled my leggings back up my thighs and straightened my tunic.
When I was appropriately dressed, I used the wall for additional support and hobbled to the door.
The Issaraeth stood, his back to me, staring down the hall like he’d stab anyone who came close. He turned as the wood creaked. Without a word, he scooped me up again, and I released my hold over my power.
We didn’t converse as he carried me back to the attic room. Yet a thousand unspoken words tumbled through my mind. Was his racing just the same? I didn’t dare lower my barricade and check.
The fire had thoroughly warmed the room by the time we returned, chasing away any lingering chill. Or was it my body pressed against his that made it so hot?
My mate eased me onto the side of the bed with that same aching tenderness as before. Like he hadn’t threatened to shatter me as we dined. Like we were a normal couple.
“Can I change clothes before sleep?” After all, I had worn these for days now. While the rain had washed most of the blood out of my clothes, stains lingered. We were finally not sleeping in the dirt. And I desperately wanted to feel cleaner, even if I couldn’t necessarily bathe.
To my surprise, he fetched a new tunic for me without protest. Unfortunately, he offered nothing to cover my legs.
“Turn around,” I told him.
To my shock, he did. I tugged the dirty fabric over my head, replacing it with the fresh one immediately. I couldn’t risk him seeing the vial of virelthorn still secreted away in the bind around my breasts.
I tossed the dirty tunic at him. He caught it without looking.
Lifting my hips, I shimmied the leggings down, thankful that my shirt was long enough to conceal the tops of my thighs. I paused to work the wrap off my knee, hissing as I pressed a little too firmly against one of the massive bruises.
“Need assistance?” he asked, his voice all velvet. But that hard edge remained.
My teeth dug into my bottom lip. Unfortunately, despite my flexibility, the strain on my hamstrings and tension in my quadriceps was pulling my kneecap into a bad position.
“Yes,” I relented, loathing that I was asking my captor for help yet again.
Not a single emotion flickered across his face as he bent over my legs. His fingers hooked into the fabric, brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he peeled them the rest of the way off.
After placing my discarded clothes atop his bag, he returned with a fresh wrap for my knee.
I didn’t dare move as his hands ghosted over my bare skin again to secure it in place.
Once he finished, he rose, head ducked so he didn’t smack it on the beams overhead.
Our bond protested, sending a twinge between my ribs. A grimace crossed his severe, serious features, and he paused, sucking in a sharp breath.
“What is it?” I asked, resisting the urge to rub my chest.
“Nothing,” he muttered, taking a step back like it pained him to do so. He raked a hand over his iron-gray hair, pulling more strands loose from the leather tie he used to keep it out of his face. “We should get some sleep.”
“Yes we should,” I said, giving myself a mental shake. What had come over me? Suddenly a male steps in to protect me from harm and I’m a quivering mess?
You hate him, Sylaira. Remember all the horrible things he’s done. The other people he’s killed.
I swept my long locks over my shoulder and plaited them loosely so as to keep it from becoming a wild tangle overnight.
When I sank onto my back, I let out a long sigh. The mattress wasn’t too firm, but it was firmer than what I would prefer. Still far better than sleeping on the ground or in the cart. And unfortunately, I had to sleep on my back regardless.
I flicked my attention to my mate, still standing a few feet away. When our eyes collided, he held my gaze, something unreadable hiding among the ice.
“Goodnight,” I said, the word half-dismissal, half-reflex. I’d always said it to my friends and family in hopes that we would indeed have one, and that we wouldn’t wake up to the hunters busting down our doors.
The irony of being locked behind one with the male who systemically slaughtered Elessarum wasn’t lost on me.
Finally, he stepped toward the washbasin.
My lungs expanded again when he turned his back. Yet I was too wired to fall asleep immediately. Instead, I stared at the ceiling as he poured water into the bowl. The sound of sloshing liquid filled the silence, along with the wringing of a cloth as he cleaned himself.
I stole a glance at him, unable to help myself.
Big mistake.
He’d removed his tunic, revealing the perfect circle between his shoulder blades.
His mate mark. The one that matched mine.
Yet around it, other ink decorated his skin.
The art was immaculate, feathers that looked real enough to touch falling across his back.
And at the top of his spine, a moon, pocked and full, shone over all the shattered shards among the dark vanes.
Text wrapped around his ribs, disappearing into the dim light.
I found myself wanting to get closer, to read the runes etched into his flesh. To see what waited on the front of his torso.
The backs of his arms too were decorated. Birds, swords, and storms wrapped an intricate design all the way to his wrists.
He turned, and a faint gasp tumbled past my lips.
The carved muscle was even more apparent from the front.
Strong pectorals sat above abdominals that made my center heat.
But as I traced each line, my attention snagged on something carved over his heart.
But the marks…they weren’t tattoos. Instead, jagged Angelic letters, raised and white like scars, conveyed a message.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
Somehow, I knew that he hadn’t placed the words there himself.
“Admiring the view?” His voice was all velvet and sin. Long fingers twitched toward his chest but landed on his shoulder instead.
My cheeks flushed as I forced myself to look him in the eye. “It’s fine.”
A low chuckle echoed off the overhead beams and pebbled my skin. “The bond tells me it’s more than fine.”
“Exactly. It’s just the bond,” I said, my protest weaker than I had aimed for.
Each step he took toward his pallet bunched and flexed the stacks of muscle. Yet instead of sitting back, he spun and faced me. Hands splayed across the foot of the bed, and he leaned closer, sucking all air from my lungs.
The fire cast an eerie halo around him, shrouding his face in darkness. But what was unmistakable was the thick outline in his pants.
“Goodnight, Sylaira.” The way my name rolled across his tongue was downright unholy.
He lingered for a moment longer, whether to tease me with the body that promised to ruin me, or to drink me in like he was a male dying of thirst, I wasn’t sure.
I only knew that the rope between us burned as he settled into his place to sleep for the night. Begged me to let him join me. To allow him close enough to touch.
To claim.
My mind conjured images of me raking nails down each square on his stomach, toward the delicious cuts that disappeared into his pants.
I wasn’t overly experienced in the ways of seduction and sex, but I knew that a body like his promised pleasure unlike I’d ever had before.
My thighs dampened despite my best efforts to shut out the lustful thoughts and seek sleep.
At this point, I welcomed the oblivion if only to escape the madness that was outside of my control.
Outside, an owl hooted, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
The Issaraeth huffed a laugh but said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
Not when this same raging desire flooded our connection from his side too.
It was going to be a long night.
Because I didn’t know what terrified me more…
The thought of him sleeping mere feet from me.
Or the thought that I might want him closer.