Chapter 25
An hour passed, and still, I was awake. So was the Issaraeth if the tension in that damn chain was any testament. A few times, I’d been on the verge of dozing off when he shifted on the floor. It wasn’t even like he was trying to be quiet about it either.
So much for being used to sleeping in uncomfortable positions as he had claimed.
Irritation nipped at my nerves after he did it again.
Between the tumult of emotion about being the prisoner of the male who hunted me, the exhaustion of working my knee, and the heavy food and wine, I desperately wanted to rest. At least in the land of dreams, I had an escape—now that I no longer had nightmares of being captured by him.
Instead, I was living it.
He sighed, the sound like a thunderclap amid the silence.
My fingers tightened where they rested over my stomach. Maybe some of the purple poppy mix would help. “Issaraeth?” I asked.
He said nothing, but I knew he had heard me.
I huffed. “Vaeron?”
His reply whispered over the walls, rolling a shiver of desire down my spine. “Yes, little fugitive?”
Of course, he wanted me to use his real name. “Can I have a potion for the pain?”
He rose, the fire licking over his muscles in a way that made venomous green hiss inside me. I shoved it down.
Just the bond.
But the way he shuffled across the room gave me pause. Was he injured from the fight? I hadn’t noticed anything in the day that had passed since.
From his bag, he pulled out a vial of milky white.
“Not that one. The other.”
He rummaged again, his movements stiff. A minute passed before he found the potion I sought. With a powerful tug, he pulled the stopper free. Leaning across the bed, he handed it to me. I shuffled onto my elbows and accepted the vial.
Ignoring the way he stared at me, I threw it back, holding my breath against the sickly taste. He offered me a glass of water, and I gladly accepted it to wash out my mouth. When I was finished, he retreated, a hand braced on his lower back.
“Are you okay?” I asked him before my brain caught up with my mouth.
“Why? Do you suddenly find yourself capable of caring for a monster?” he replied, ice in his tone.
My teeth clicked shut. I stuck my tongue in the side of my cheek. No, I shouldn’t be asking the male responsible for the death of my parents and others I loved if he was okay. I shouldn’t care if he was in pain too.
I didn’t care.
“I was merely asking so I could gauge if I was going to continue to have issues falling asleep.” The statement emerged with the appropriate amount of bite.
“One of the robbers landed a solid strike to my back,” was his cool reply. I scoured our connection, slithering beneath his barrier and absorbing the ache like it was my own. “Not that you would care. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
He shuffled to his pallet on the floor while guilt nibbled at my gut. He’d hidden this pain from me—carrying me up the stairs multiple times, driving the wagon, helping with my knee. After he’d ensured no harm would come to me. Other than from him, of course.
He winced again, and shame reared inside me, uncomfortable and unwelcome. I smacked it away, but mere moments before he eased himself down, I blurted, “Do you want to sleep up here?”
Goddess, what the fuck am I doing?
Offering the predator a spot next to the prey. I kicked myself for even mentioning it. But if it would get him to hush so I could rest, I’d do it.
A dark brow lifted. “Are you inviting me into your bed, little fugitive?”
“Not like that.” Ungrateful prick.
He stepped closer, and the way our bond leaped like it was executing a starburst in Vaela? told me my offer was far more dangerous than I had initially considered.
“If you insist,” he purred, grabbing a pillow from his pallet.
“I didn’t, I offered.” The defense rushed out of me like a waterfall.
He rounded the bed, and I scooted to the edge of the mattress, putting as much distance between us as possible. Even wedged a pillow in the center like it could ward off any further empathy for him.
His added bulk caused the firm surface to dip.
I closed my eyes, every muscle pulled taut and pulse dancing wildly at my throat.
A low groan vibrated in his chest as he turned onto his side. Unfortunately, I thought he was facing me. Stealing a glance, I found, in fact, he was.
This was so much worse than his tossing and turning on the floor. How was I supposed to sleep with him looking at me?
Stupid, stupid, Sylaira.
He adjusted himself, the heat of his body warming me more than the fire slowly dying into embers. And our skin wasn’t even flush.
The chain hummed, content for now with our proximity. I dragged in a breath, trying to focus on the rise and fall of my breath when my mate—who hadn’t claimed me yet—had ample opportunity to do so once the purple potion took hold.
No matter his immense, terrifying power, I knew, somehow, that he wouldn’t touch me like that without my permission.
He could Command me. He had on more than one occasion already.
He could restrain me with his magic. Break my will if he truly wanted.
But that moment where our bodies joined for the first time, never to be the same after?
That he wouldn’t take unless I was willing.
It was a strange comfort, acknowledging that. In that regard, I was safe with him too.
The poppy swam through my veins, tugging my eyelids down, down, down…
I shifted to my right. Something warm brushed my hip. A sigh slipped past my lips.
And then I eased into darkness.
Chirping birds stirred me from a deep slumber. Groggy, I rubbed the heels of my palms into my eyes. Through blurry vision, I took in my surroundings.
Wooden beams overhead. A small window filtering in early morning light. A mattress pressing into my back. An ache blooming in my knee.
And something hard draped across my stomach.
Not just something—a muscled, tattooed arm.
Vaeron’s arm.
Scorching breath ghosted across my shoulder.
Slowly, I turned my head, finding my mate’s face close enough to kiss should I lean ever so slightly forward.
His gray lashes brushed against his hard cheekbones.
The line between his brows was smooth. Lips slightly parted, he looked more at ease than I’d ever seen him.
My attention tracked down to the jagged letters carved over his heart.
My fingers itched to trace them, to discover if they really were scars.
Who had done it to him? They would have had to use a bronze blade to ensure they remained long after the final slice.
From the size of them, probably more than once.
You can’t feel sympathy for him, Sylaira.
They whispered stories I wasn’t ready to hear. I faced forward again and reminded myself of all the horrible things he’d done.
Hunted me. Commanded me. Killed those I loved.
That deep loathing returned too. Yet his harsh words split it wide open. Had I truly treated him so terribly, as he had pointed out?
The moments after our bond snapped into place emerged from the recesses of my mind.
The elation that had traveled down our new connection. The way he’d immediately tended to me, nearly panicked by my pain.
How I’d snapped at him.
How his demeanor had changed after.
A hand squeezed my stomach, and the Issaraeth sucked in a sharp breath. I remained steadfast in my staring contest with the roof as he awoke.
And jerked his hand back like he’d been burned.
“We need to get going,” he grumbled, rising instantly. His feet hit the floor with unnecessary force.
The chain linking our fates together protested with a harsh yank between my ribs.
“I need pants,” I stated. There was no way I was moving without them. But he’d have to remove the wrap first and secure it again after.
Fuck.
I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to maintain my composure when he touched me again.
He rounded to my side, and something light landed on my chest. Dragging in a breath, I shuffled backward until I was sitting up.
He’d put on a shirt.
Thank the Goddess.
Smoothing down my tunic, I removed the covers from my legs. The Issaraeth set to work on removing the bind. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as sore as I had been expecting. Whether it was the poppy lingering or that I was truly healing faster, I wasn’t sure. But glad for it either way.
When it was off, I stretched forward and positioned the leggings at my feet. The movement was easy after so many years of dancing. I was incredibly flexible. Yet the tightening of the muscles around my knee had me gritting my teeth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the Issaraeth’s hardness.
“Getting off on my pain, Issaraeth?” I taunted. Wriggling the fabric up, I managed to slide it all on my own.
My mate’s cold eyes held mine. “With how I like breaking people, how could I not?” he crooned, that velvet of his tone all mockery. “And somehow, I sense that you would like it too. With how you continue to bait me, it seems as though you are a glutton for punishment.”
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I refused to cower. To refute. To deny what he had already discerned. We glared at each other, silence crackling between us. He didn’t bother looking away as I lifted my hips to secure the leggings around my waist.
“You can wrap it again now,” I told him when I was settled.
He lifted his scarred brow. Stepped closer. My heart thumped a single wild beat as he lowered his voice. “Giving orders again? Did I not remind you last night who exactly is in control here?”
I stuck my tongue to the roof of my mouth, biting back a retort.
“If you want help,” he paused, attention raking over me in a way that made me want to squirm and part my legs at the same time, “ask me.”
My fingers dug into the blankets. What was with this male and vacillating attitude? The glimmers of kindness he offered me had to be a trap. I couldn’t let myself forget who he really was. The monster that waited beneath.
“Can you please,” I nearly choked on the word, “bandage my knee?”
A sardonic smirk rose. “That’s better.” His fingers skimmed the fabric, my flesh heating beneath his gentle touch as he bound my injury.
He could have prodded the bruises. Could have inflicted hints of pain.
But he didn’t.
And that was the most confusing thing of all.
Wordlessly, he handed me the crutches. I hobbled toward the top of the stairs while he gathered our belongings and stuffed them into the packs. Then, he hefted them onto his back.
“Are you going to protest as I carry you again?”
“Absolutely. So get it over with, Issaraeth,” I snapped, snaking white magic around my leg to keep it straight. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, and carried me down.
Yet as I pressed against his chest, I couldn’t help but return to the scars over his heart.
When we reached the tavern, he set me down like he couldn’t wait for me to be out of his hold.
I shoved the crutches under my arms and hobbled to a table in the center where two plates waited.
The female emerged from behind a counter and asked what I wanted to drink.
She fetched juice and settled it beside my plate.
My mate had already broken his fast, inhaling his food like it was the first time he’d eaten in months. I joined him, finishing minutes after he did.
Neither of us spoke. What really did we have to say to one another anyway? Despite the fact that he’d slept beside me last night, that I’d awoken with his hand on me…
I suppressed a shudder at the memory.
The reality didn’t change. I was his captive. He was duty-bound to deliver me to his sister. Our bond meant nothing.
The Issaraeth bid goodbye to the innkeeper as I donned my cloak and swung myself toward the door and into the early morning chill. A shiver wracked my frame as I approached the wagon. My mate jogged to catch up with me, meeting me at the lowered lip.
I tossed the crutches in, then shuffled around, preparing to fling myself into the wagon. Vaeron stepped forward, capturing my gaze and avoiding my injured leg. Without a word, his large hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me up. We lingered in that moment, the world around us melting away.
My tongue darted out and wet my lips. His attention flicked to the motion, watching with more hunger than he’d had with our meal.
“Herr R?viel, you forgot this,” the innkeeper said, emerging from the tavern carrying a bag of supplies.
The Issaraeth jerked away, and I wriggled backward until the wood supported my leg. “Thank you.” He snatched the bag and tossed it beside me. The female dipped into a curtsey and returned to her establishment.
But whatever moment we’d had was shattered.
“If we hurry along, we can reach the next town shortly after dark and sleep in a real bed again,” the Issaraeth noted, lifting the lip and securing the bolts on either side. Then he unslung his pack and settled it against the side, pinning my crutches in place.
My mate took one long look at me, like he was searing something into his memory. With a sigh, he was gone. The wagon shifted as he settled in at the front to steer the horses.
Despite the quiet, despite the lulling rocking of the cart, blissful slumber eluded me, the storm brewing inside me consuming every thought.
Why had I allowed him to rest beside me? I admonished myself for even permitting him that close. I was Elessarum. I’d be betraying my people by surrendering to the thrall of this magic.
And yet the Issaraeth’s desire for me was unmistakable.
Could I…
I shook my head, trying to banish the thought into the ether. But it returned, like an insistent knocking, refusing to move on until it was acknowledged.
Could I twist his desire into a weapon of my own? Could I somehow protect myself—and my remaining people—by allowing him to think I was letting him in?
I raked my teeth over my lower lip as I considered. But I hated him so much. I’d never been a great actress—just enough to convey the emotion of my dance.
Plus with our mental connection, it was possible he could see right through my act.
But was it a risk worth taking?
The question lingered even as we stopped at high sun.
By the time we reached the next inn, I’d made my decision. If he wanted to believe my defiance was disappearing, I could let him. Just enough to lower his guard. To get him to trust me. To make him vulnerable.
The thrill of having power over him was undeniable. It would get me one step closer to what I’d sworn during my flight toward the temple—that someday, I would be the storm they feared.
So I’d let him share my bed. But I certainly wouldn’t be sharing anything else—especially not my heart.
That, I’d make sure he never got close enough to break.