13. From the Shadows
~ GRACE ~
I hated myself because I couldn’t stand to have Vane out of sight. I’d told him to wash first, because he’d had no chance throughout these awful days. But the moment he disappeared into the shadows, panic lit in my chest.
Before I knew it, I’d crept through the trees after him.
I went slowly to give him time, but the pinch in my chest didn’t ease until I’d squatted below the level of some bushes, twenty feet from the creek, and inched up to peer at him over the top of them, where my hair would be in shadow.
My first glimpse was shocking.
I’d expected to see Vane at the water’s edge, washing as I would, hunched over the stream. But to my shock, he stood with his back to me, knee deep in the water, fully stripped, one arm crossed over his body—the unseen hand cupping his privates, I assumed.
The morning sun gleamed on muscles, gilding his shoulders and striking blue sparks from his midnight-black hair, which was stringy with sweat and dirt.
Yet, in this light, he was a gleaming raven.
And his skin… Despite dirt, sweat, scars, and scrapes, the skin on his torso was warmed by suntan, even at this time of year.
The shocking part was the startlingly white buttocks and thighs. A distinct line circled his waist, and each of his legs, a few inches above the knee. Between those sun-dark lines, his skin was nearly as pale as mine.
It was a strange juxtaposition—the muscles and obvious strength set off by scars and minor injuries from the past few days. But the unmarred skin of his buttocks and thighs seemed vulnerable. An intimacy.
I watched, fascinated, as he must have changed his mind about the water, because he didn’t step in deeper. He let go of himself and squatted.
Thickly muscled thighs flexed as he lowered himself, the lines on his back rippled when he leaned forward to scoop water with both hands.
But it was the startling appearance of a dangling sack of flesh between his legs that was all at once, so utterly primal, and so shockingly vulnerable, that made my heart leap into my throat.
His testicles swung. Like the little leather pouches the farriers wore at their waists full of nails for shoeing horses. Yet, they were a part of him.
Everything in me went still at the sight.
I knew I should look away, shouldn’t violate his privacy in this way. But I couldn’t tear my gaze from that soft flesh.
I tried to tell myself I was an adult. Reminded myself that I’d seen the stallions, and the dogs my entire life.
Even aided my father in the breeding on our estate as I’d grown older.
There was no true mystery about this piece of male anatomy.
And yet, the skin was much redder than his buttocks and thighs.
I couldn’t have said why that fascinated me, except that pink, soft flesh seemed so at odds with his cold, abrasive manner.
A vulnerability in truth.
Then he began splashing water over his arms and chest and scrubbing with hands—we didn’t have soap—to loosen the dirt and sweat. And his testicles swayed in little circles against the movement of his torso.
A few moments later he straightened and my view was blocked by his muscular thighs.
I was distracted by his surprising grace as he dove into the water, and came up hissing and cursing against the cold.
Inhaling deeply, he dropped under the surface, and it roiled as he scrubbed at his hair for a time, coming up to take new breaths, then sinking under again.
The sight of his arms bent up, his biceps thick and lined, his shoulders creased with muscle, dried my mouth.
I was so taken with the sight of him, that pulse began behind my navel again.
I swallowed to wet the roof of my mouth as he dropped under the water once more. But this time he didn’t come up quickly.
He didn’t come up at all.
I frowned.
The morning sun glinted on the water’s surface there so I couldn’t see under it. But those roils and ripples when he’d been scrubbing were gone.
I inched higher slowly, frowning harder. Was it possible he’d gotten a foot caught on the bottom of the pool? Or was he just playing one of those stupid games boys seemed to like, trying to suffocate himself until the last possible moment he needed to breathe?
But he’d had such a difficult few days. He might underestimate his capacity and—
He rose from the water in a rippling splash, gasping at the air. I swallowed a yelp and ducked back behind the bushes, praying his eyes had been too full of water to see my shape in the darkness under the trees.
Heart pounding, I scuttled out of there like an insect avoiding the eyes of a bird. But my cheeks warmed. And I couldn’t go too far away, because my chest began to pinch. So, I placed myself in the clearing, with my back to the trees, and waited for him to return.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about his body.
His vulnerable flesh.
And the voice in my head that wasn’t Koa, wouldn’t stop whispering… Mine.
~ VOSKI ~
I’d sensed her nearby. I couldn’t tell how far away, but I knew she was closer than she’d been when I left the clearing.
When I let myself sink to the bottom, I hoped she’d look for me if she was watching, and sure enough, as I broke the surface, gasping for air, I caught a flash of her wide eyes before she dropped behind the bushes again.
I chuckled quietly enough she wouldn’t hear it over my splashing as I pushed back up to the banks of the creek, but my amusement faded quickly.
Nothing was actually funny.
It was because Kham was amused by Koa, and his feelings bled into me.
‘Stay out of my head.’
‘If only the Creator were so merciful,’ he retorted dryly.
‘You aren’t funny. I’m angry at you. You humbled me. In front of both of them.’
‘You needed humbling. You were being stubborn.’
‘I was trying to do the right thing!’
‘You were treating your mate like a child and—’
‘She is not my mate! I have resisted the bond! Now we can go about our lives.’
Kham sighed and I hoped he was giving up, but a moment later he sent, in a tone so tight it appeared that pause had been to stop himself flying into a rage. ‘To resist a bond doesn’t erase its existence, Voski. To deny your mate is not to say you do not have one.’
My thoughts skittered away from that quickly, and focused on the task at hand. ‘My concern is valid,’ I pointed out. ‘She’s noble, she’ll have been missed. If they don’t learn she’s safe, it could cause war between our kingdoms!’
‘Then address the anxieties of your people—but do not ignore the wishes of your mate.’
‘She’s not my—’
‘I will not say this again, my brother. To deny the truth is not to remove it from existence. That is the nature of truth: it exists without need for your acceptance.’
I set my teeth. ‘I can’t have you referring to her as my mate—Koa will do the same and then she’ll hear about it and—’
‘And ask why you denied her? A valid question, and one you should answer. While you’re at it, tell her how to correctly refer to you.’
‘I’m not having this conversation right now.’
Kham growled in my head. ‘That’s your right. But don’t let yourself believe you’ll avoid it forever, Voski. You’re too grown up for that. Or at least, I thought so, until these past days.’
I hunched against his words and set to scrubbing my skin again, now that I’d been wet long enough to dislodge the dirt and grime. ‘You care about her feelings in this, but not mine?’
‘Of course I care for your feelings. What I will not entertain is your pride. It is a barrier for all of us. If you truly wish to keep them both safe, you’ll be the leader you are, and facilitate her return to Vosgaarde with us.
Koa has no ties here. She will fly to Vosgaarde to meet Kgosi and submit to him as Primarch of the herd. We will rejoin the herd as a pair.’
I went still. ‘But… if we do that… if she comes as Koa’s rider… Kham, Grace will be Flameborne! A noblewoman can’t train to be Furyknight!’
He snorted his disapproval of that. ‘Any human chosen by a dragonfury is Flameborne. And any Flameborne may become Furyknight—if she and Koa wish to train.’
‘But—’
‘Would you have allowed another to make that choice when I chose you, brother?’ Kham asked carefully.
I scowled. ‘Of course not. But I’m a man. Furyknights are men.’
‘Tell that to your squad-sister, Bren,’ he responded, sounding amused. ‘I’ll be certain to tell Kgosi that you have determined a woman he accepted is insufficient—’
‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it!’
‘Then do not aspire to speak to Grace’s choice. Females who hear the Creator’s call, and follow it, may do so, whether it is what you would choose for them, or not.’
‘But she’s clueless! She’s been served her whole life!
She wouldn’t know what she was getting into!
And Koa couldn’t tell her, because she’s never been part of a herd, or trained at the Keep either!
She isn’t even from Vosgaarde—Kham, they’re both Fyrehold females!
Koa can’t teach her anything about what it means to be a Furyknight! ’
There was a slow, smug sense from Kham that raised my hackles, as if he smiled at me down the bond—the kind of smile that said I’d fallen neatly into his trap.
‘Then, it sounds to me, as if the one Grace needs to hear from is you. A Furyknight and wing leader? I cannot imagine anyone better equipped to educate her. Can you?’
I muttered a curse and returned to my scrubbing without answering.
And the fucker laughed at me.