Chapter Twenty-Seven
My eyes flutter open, and my breathing stops.
As unfamiliar surroundings come into focus, my muscles tighten.
I’m tucked into a bed in a bedroom that isn’t mine, enveloped in Ryc’s scent. This is not the white marbled, white furniture filled room I’ve claimed for the last two weeks.
No.
This is a finely decorated room featuring a polished four-post bed, black blankets, and a series of floor-to-ceiling windows. The early morning sun spills into the room through the drawn sheer white curtains.
The events of last night crash into my mind like a tidal wave and I bury my face in my hands. The caustic sting of shame spreads faster than I can brace myself. The things I did, what I said—none of it would have been as horrifying had they not been honest reflections of my innermost thoughts.
I’ve exposed myself to Ryc in a way that can’t be hidden again.
A slight shift in movement beside me snaps my attention to my left. It’s Ryc, sleeping peacefully on his stomach. His arms buried under his pillow, his face angled toward me, his hair a dark mess.
I will never not find him beautiful.
Letting my eyes linger longer than I should, he shifts, his hair sliding to the side, revealing more of his back.
My eyes widen.
There, upon his skin, an identical strand of Malbolge runes run along his spine.
Watching him sign, seeing the demon mark on my skin, even the unexpected opening of the channel—all had reaffirmed the knowledge Ryc is bound to me.
But seeing the demon mark on his pristine skin, it rattles me in a way I cannot explain.
This is impossible.
We’re impossible.
I need to leave. I need to return to the temple.
Yet like all the times I’ve stolen a few moments to stare in awe at the night sky, I find myself staring in awe at Ryc.
A smile curls on his face and my breath hitches in my throat.
His arm snakes out from beneath his pillow and draws me closer by my waist with little effort.
I lay frozen, heart thundering. My chest heaving with shallow breaths.
His eyes open.
Bright molten gold.
“Good morning, little demon.”
Light take me.
The way he says the words—his soft, sleep-laden voice. I’m seeing a version of this fae not many get to see. And yet here he is, with me. It’s too intimate, too familiar. And it threatens to reignite the desire I’d felt last night.
“How are you feeling?” He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with a hand.
The ability to speak in common tongue has left me and I stammer. His genuine concern for my well-being is unexpected. Or is it because I’m too easily swayed by pretty eyes set in a handsome face?
He chuckles, as if he could read my thoughts.
Lifting the arm he left draped over my waist, he sweeps away my silver hair. “Well, it seems I was able to get the venom out of your system.” He flashes me a lazy smile. “You can thank me by not throwing yourself at vamps in the future.”
Indignation and irritation spike in my chest. “I didn’t seek them out,” I retort heatedly and he laughs.
“No?” he counters with his signature teasing smirk. “Did they pull you from the temple? Make you wander through the city at night alone?”
I loose a bitter, disbelieving scoff. “They hunted me, you ass.”
Ryc laughs, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I could have you thrown in a cell for the way you speak to me,” he teases, his voice low. “You’re brave to insult a Sovereign King to his face.”
Unable to keep the smile from my face, I scoff a dry laugh. “If you’re going to imprison me, I’d like to add a few more points. One, you’re beautiful until you—”
Ryc roars with laughter, throwing his head back, and falling backward.
Taking the opportunity to pull myself from him, I seek the edge of the bed.
He reaches out, drawing me back in and rolling me onto my side.
In less time than it takes for my heart to beat, I’m locked pressed against him once again.
“Oh no,” he says, shaking his head. “We need to discuss how we work—how this works. But first, please tell me more about how you think I’m beautiful.”
I groan and roll my eyes. “You’re further proving my point.” I push against him, but his arm doesn’t budge. “As for how we work, there is no we. You are contracted to serve me.”
Whether panic-induced or elated, my heart leaps into my throat. This is not how I imagined starting my morning. In fact, waking to find myself sharing the Sovereign King’s bed is not how I imagined any morning. I press my hands against his chest, a weak attempt to retain space between us.
Good gods, the feel of his bare chest under my hands has me questioning if the vampire venom had any actual effect upon me. I shove the devolving thoughts aside and steel myself.
“Is there no we?” he asks, challenging me with his stare.
“No,” I answer firmly. But I want him as flustered as I am. “Perhaps there could have been,” his brows raise, a smile parting his lips as he waits for me to continue, “if you had just been Ryc.”
With a low rumbling chuckle, he leans close, whispering, “Am I not just Ryc?”
His thumb begins to trace lazy circles on the small of my back, above my tailbone, and every sense in my body hones in on the sensation. His touch clears my mind of anything else. He’s made it so that he is the only thing I can focus on.
A smirk tilts his lips. He knows it, too.
The fae is more demon than I am.
“No,” I say again, but this time my voice wavers, giving away my melting resolve. “You’re not,” I add, willing strength I don’t have into the words.
I need to leave.
I need to leave before I find myself entangled with a fae in ways I shouldn’t be—in ways I want. Ryc is an indulgence, and I am a selfish creature of the hells. He plays a dangerous game. On instinct alone, my hand rises from his chest to cup his face.
“I warned you it was getting harder to stay away from you,” he says, his voice low.
He searches my face, as if he’s taking in every detail of the moment. And for all I know, he is. Just as I’d laid and admired him before he woke.
Last night—it cannot happen again. Despite how right it felt. Going down this road, making this decision, it would do neither of us any favors. I would have a vulnerability Netharis could use against me, and he would become Netharis’ next target.
We’re doomed.
It’s safer for both of us to simply keep ourselves separate. But after last night, I fear I’m too late for that. Complicating things further is the last thing I need. I need, no, crave simplicity, quiet, safety.
“Fight harder,” I whisper, desperately battling against myself.
“No.” His whisper races down my spine.
Confused, disoriented, and consumed by a yearning that’s laid in wait for centuries, I force myself to listen to logic and nudge my innate gently.
Everything about this is a mistake.
Shadows swirl tightly around me, and Ryc vanishes, my innate ferrying me away from making yet another bad decision. I cover my face with my hands as I roll onto my back in my very empty bed. Slamming shadows over that gods damned window in my mind, I heave a sigh.
The courtyard lies between us.
It’s not enough distance.
The whole of Eldoterra could be between us and it wouldn’t be enough.
?????????????
Several hours and cold showers later, I sit across from Eve and her scrutinizing stare in the temple gardens. It’s another sunny day in Ollora and the late morning sun feels sinful on my skin. To take advantage, I’d rolled up the sleeves of my robes, wanting to soak up as much warmth as possible.
It’s not the same kind of warmth as Ryc’s skin against mine, but it’s close.
The garden, as expected, was packed with others who had the same idea. Tables filled with witches and acolytes enjoying the weather and lighthearted conversation. For a moment, I envied the simplicity of their lives. My life, by comparison, couldn’t be further from simple.
Having detailed the events of the last night to Eve—the vampire attack sans Ryc—she gives me a look that tells me she’s not impressed by my decisions. To be fair, neither am I. But not because I somehow managed to become the target of a pair of vampires.
“You have to be cursed. What have you done to earn such spite from the gods?” Eve says, breaking the small silence that had fallen between us. She shakes her head ruefully. “I’ve never met someone who has your kind of luck.”
Luck has nothing to do with me.
In fact, I’m pretty sure luck doesn’t glance twice at anyone with demonic blood in their veins. I laugh at the thought.
With a resigned hum, I say, “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Sipping the tea Cora had prepared for us, I curl into its flavor and comforting warmth. Despite the heat of the summer morning, my teeth had been a few degrees away from chattering thanks to the ice cold water I showered in to clear my mind of my particularly heated thoughts.
Lifting my gaze, I catch sight of Artemise across the gardens, her silver and black robes swirling about her as she moves in our direction, and my shoulders sag.
What now? I’m not sure I’m mentally capable of dealing with any more.
Her brown eyes lock with mine as she crosses the garden, her lips pressed into a fine line, fueling my dread.
Eve nudges me with an elbow. “Did Artemise find out about this?” she asks in a low whisper.
Tearing my gaze away from the High Priestess to stare at my mug, I shake my head. “No. Did she find out about you and Cora?”
I pick at a small chip in the lip of my mug with a nail.
“No,” she answers in the same hushed tones, folding her hands on the table. “Artemise was nowhere to be found after prayer last night. She was likely communing with Celesta.”
Artemise slides into the bench across the table and immediately folds her hands in her lap. A few faces turn in our direction, curiosity getting the better of them. Well, here’s to hoping whatever she’s about to say she doesn’t mind others hearing.
“Good morn, Eve. Ves,” she greets in reserved tones.