48. Creeper
~ VOSKI ~
I’d offered Kham to come to the solitude clearing with me, to rest as well.
And he did. Koa arrived just behind him.
I sat in the shade under the trees as the afternoon turned golden overhead, and for the first time, I just watched them.
There was no time constraint. No purpose.
I rested. And I watched. And I couldn’t help but feel my dragon’s joy in his mate.
He was immensely proud of her, preening her and calling, crooning. Flickering images appeared in my head now and then—his confidence in her when she’d dived after Grace. His certainty that she was both skilled and strong enough to catch her rider. His pride when she did so.
And his pride in Grace, as well.
I grimaced when his images began to include the golden-haired noblewoman, but I also knew that I had to grow accustomed to seeing her and dealing with her without losing my shit. She was here. And going to succeed. That was clear. She would be close for… well, forever.
I raked back my hair, reminding myself there would be no escape.
We couldn’t separate the dragons. That burning in my gullet whenever she was near was a natural response to feeling Kham’s attraction and delight in his mate.
Of course it created tension for me. But if I was good at anything, it was riding out tension.
Ronen was growing twitchy. If I didn’t get my shit together soon, he was going to press harder. And what excuse did I have?
The truth was, none. I knew I’d been hard on her. Sullen about duties that involved her. Unfair. Not a leader.
I hated knowing how it must look to those around me.
‘If you told them the truth, they would feel less disapproval,’ Kham offered.
I huffed. ‘And more desire to stick their noses where they don’t belong.’
Kham sent an image of two dogs, sniffing each other’s asses, and I actually laughed.
‘That’s not what I meant, but it’s also quite appropriate.’
‘Humans are strange.’
I grinned, but kept my eyes closed and breathed deeper, because I could feel Kham’s desire for his mate growing, and as much as I wanted him to be happy, I also didn’t want to get caught up in that.
“Why don’t you two go be alone,” I said through a forced smile.
‘What was it you said last time? Get a room?’
‘Yes. That.’
‘Very well,’ Kham sighed through the bond. ‘Should I return for you tonight? Will you stay in the Keep?’ Kham wasn’t enjoying me sleeping elsewhere. Usually he would join me here on the nights I stayed alone. But now, with Koa—who didn’t want to leave Grace—he was torn.
‘I’m sorry, old man, but no. I won’t be coming home. You can remain with your mate. Just don’t flaunt her in front of me.’
‘You know—’
‘Kham.’
He released a long, huffing groan, but lumbered over to where I sat and extended his head, nudging me with his snout, until I scratched his nose.
‘Rest, Voski,’ he said quietly. Worriedly. ‘You need it as surely as she does.’
I nodded and scratched him one more time, then watched as the two of them rubbed noses and necks, then launched into the air.
There was a small pang of panic when he flew off—feeling him grow more distant when I already felt torn and agitated. But I knew it was right. The further away he was, the less I’d feel of their heat. And I’d brought food. I would read until it grew dark. Then eat. Then sleep.
Tomorrow it would be easier.
I was still jumpy as a cat after her taking that fall—
“Where did they go?”
I almost leapt out of my skin at the soft voice, just feet away, off to my left.
“Holy shit!”
I launched myself to my feet and whirled to find a shocked, wide-eyed Grace standing just behind the next tree, a bundle under her elbow, her hair darker because it was wet, but now tightly, and somewhat erratically braided.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“What the fuck are you doing here?!”
She jerked back, shock and fear painted all over her pretty face. A warning sang in my head, and my chest panged. But I was irrationally furious at the fright and—
“Seriously, Grace, what the actual fuck!”
“I’m sorry!”
“How do you do that?! How did you even find me—”
Shit. She was at my solitude. She was here.
As she babbled excuses, her eyes welling, I looked left and right. I wasn’t under the treehouse. Hopefully, she hadn’t seen it. Hopefully she just thought I was out there to be alone and… how the hell did she find me?
“I came here to be alone—why the fuck are you following me?!”
Her forehead furrowed, then her brows pressed down in anger. “I wasn’t following you!” she snapped. “I came to find Koa because I could sense her here, but I was too late. I only wanted to bathe without men ogling me, it’s not my fault you chose the same place and—”
“Ogling?” I growled. “Who the fuck is ogling?” I stepped closer. She stepped back and finally, as if God Himself snapped fingers under my nose, I saw her.
Nose swollen, bruises rising under her eyes, which were wide and bloodshot with tears and anger. Ill-fitting leathers. Hair poorly braided, as if she wasn’t very practiced at it. Her voice high and shrill.
And when I stepped toward her, she backed away.
Afraid, that little voice whispered. Inwardly, I flinched. I didn’t want to, but as I assessed her, I became aware of those sensations in my chest that were always stronger when she was near.
She was in pain. She was exhausted. She’d been looking for reassurance. And now she was afraid. Of me.
Dear God, I’d been an ass.
I locked eyes with her and her expression turned wary.
Worse.
I’d been awful. A bully. Erratic. Raging.
I swallowed hard as she began to babble again, tripping over herself to explain—and accuse. The bundle she carried dropped to the ground, and she shook her hands as she shrilled at me.
“…never did anything to you, but you are convinced that I’m a villain, and I am not! I am not! I want to succeed. I will listen, and I will try. But I do not know this world and all I want is to be shown the way—”
“Grace,” I said softly.
But she’d screwed her eyes tightly shut and her hands were balled in frustration. “It was so frightening today, and so wonderful—and I would have failed worse if you hadn’t taught me—”
“You didn’t fail—”
“—And I was grateful. But you growl at me as if I have come to steal from you, and I haven’t! I didn’t ask for this, Voski, but I want it. And I won’t let you steal it from me! I won’t!”
She stopped then, blinking away tears, panting, her chest rising and falling under the clean cotton of her shirt because she’d left the leather jacket open.
She flinched when I lifted a hand to push my hair out of my eyes and I cursed.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
She blinked again and a V appeared between her brows. “Excuse me?”
I swallowed and raised my chin. Because she was right. And it wasn’t her fault. “I said, I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. That isn’t your fault. I truly didn’t trust you when we met,” I said hurriedly. “But I know, you’re going to be an excellent Furyknight.”
The look in her eyes was so deeply confused, and shining with such tremulous hope, I wanted to growl.
I’d always refused to be the man who controlled others through shame and cruelty. And here I was, staring into the eyes of someone who saw me as precisely that. And she had reason to.
All Kham’s warnings came swimming back to mind.
Shit.
“I don’t understand,” she said softly.
I huffed humorlessly. “I know. I don’t either, honestly. But it’s the truth. I am reacting in ways that I am not proud of. For reasons that are out of your control. So, I’m sorry.”
She looked aside like she thought someone might jump out into the open and turn this into a prank. Then her throat bobbed. “Sorry for what?” she asked quietly.
“For being an ass.”
A tiny snort broke in her throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth, staring at me over her hand for a moment, before lowering it again and raising her chin. “Yes. You have been… that,” she said uncertainly.
I had to fight not to smile.
She didn’t swear.
Ever.
I gave it a month, tops, once my brothers noticed.
“Please, accept my apology,” I said through my teeth—because I was angry at myself. “I’ve been… not a gentleman. And you don’t deserve the brunt of my anger.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We stared at each other for a moment and that space in my chest that was Kham, and Koa, and this thing that remained between us, swelled. I started to sweat.
“I regret my actions,” I said as humbly as I was able. “I regret frightening you. I wouldn’t ever have stopped you flying. You’ve already proven yourself, Grace. I am an ass, but I am not a sadist.”
Her brow puckered and I guessed she didn’t know what that word meant, but I also vowed not to be the one who sullied her innocent mind.
“I’m not asking for special treatment,” she insisted. “When I ask questions, it’s because I want to learn. Not force others to work for me.”
I nodded. “You proved that today. You are rash, and reckless, and very courageous. You were amazing. I have no doubt that you will attain the pin. It’s only a matter of time.”
Her face brightened. “You truly believe that?”
“I do.”
But to my surprise her expression darkened. “You’ve said that before. And then you get angry again. Are you just trying to—”
I put my hands up in surrender. “This isn’t how I usually deal with a Flameborne, Grace. You can ask Bren. Koa’s heat really shook me. But I should have recovered with more aplomb. It shouldn’t have cost you. I accept responsibility for that.”
She took a deep breath as I stepped closer, watching me warily. Did her mind trip back to that first night in the forest, as mine did? That kiss? The mating of the dragons, and that torturous heat?
She licked her lips, and my chest panged. I stopped moving closer to her and fisted my hands so tightly my nails threatened to cut my palms.
“Why?” she breathed.
“Why what?”
“Why do you warm to me, then pull away? Why do you show kindness one moment, then act as if I’ve tricked you or…”
Raking a hand through my hair, I deeply wished I could turn away, but her expression was so pleading, her eyes so large and yearning, it stopped my breath.
There were only a few feet between us now. I could take a step, reach for her, tip up her chin, lay my lips on hers, pull her close…
My mind wasted no time filling in the gaps for me of what would happen the moment I did. How swiftly I could have those leathers off her, revealing her alabaster skin to the sun. How sweet the softest of her skin would taste as I teased her nipple between teeth and tongue—
Grace swayed closer, exhaling heavily, and I only barely caught myself from doing the same.
Dear fucking God, what is wrong with me!?
“I’m sorry, Grace,” I said, stumbling back a step. “Truly sorry. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll do better. I vow it.”
Why did she look as if she might cry?
“You’ve said before that—”
“Sometimes I don’t realize when I’m hurting others.
I know that about myself. I have learned and grown—I’m sorry you haven’t benefited from that.
It’s something I’ve managed to stop in the past, but you’re…
I’ll… I’ll do better.” I swallowed hard as she gazed at me, confused and hurt and obviously sad.
She swallowed, and my chest ached. “Look, I’ll give you a signal.
If I lash out in future, if I’m hurting you, you use that to tell me, and I’ll listen. I’ll stop.”
“A signal?”
I nodded, scrambling, praying she wouldn’t ask me why I’d had reasons to use safe words in the past. “Yes, a word or phrase that is benign. But one we won’t use by accident. Something you can say to remind me. To tell me when I’m being harsh. And when you say it, I’ll remember to cool off.”
She swallowed, her eyes trailing off to the woods around her. “I… I’m not sure… it seems—”
The burn behind my navel surged, and I prayed for cool, clear mountain water to douse it. “Tell me the fire needs tending,” I blurted. “Remind me to douse the flame.”
Her brows pinched down over her nose. “The fire needs tending?”
“Yes, if I am being hot-headed. If I’m burning you, or others around me, remind me. Please. I’ll listen. You have my word.”
She looked down, still frowning, but shrugged. “Douse the fire? I suppose I can do that,” she said doubtfully. Then she lifted her head and locked eyes with me. “But, can I ask why?”
I frowned, confused. “Why what?”
“Why I make you angry? It’s something about me—it isn’t just you. It is men. This has always been the way—”
“No, no. God,” I dropped my face into both hands. “No, Grace, this isn’t about you. It’s me. I’m sorry. But, I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“You,” I breathed, sincerely. Honestly. Brokenly. But I rushed on because she flinched. “This is too much for me. It’s not your fault—”
“Then perhaps it isn’t yours,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“I know I speak without thought. And insert myself where I am not welcome. It has been a problem—that is to say, perhaps, while you must douse the flames, the fault isn’t entirely yours.”
“No, Grace—”
“You aren’t the only one. You can be certain of that. I hoped with the men here it might be different. I thought Furyknights were a different kind of man. But it seems there’s simply something about me that raises a man’s hackles.”
She smiled softly. And so sadly.
I felt sick. “Grace, that wasn’t what I meant.”
Her eyes welled, but she blinked rapidly and straightened her posture, raising her chin, but not meeting my eyes. “Not to worry!” she said, far too brightly.
“Grace—”
“Thank you for tending the fire. I will give you the signal. But I’m certain you will honor your words,” she said bowing her head. “I’ll leave you to…” She looked around the empty clearing and frowned, “…your solitude?”
“Wait, Grace—” I took a step closer as she bent to pick up her bundle, but she snatched it and scrambled back a few paces, eyes averted, but her posture tense.
“Please, Voski. I don’t need you to repeat it. I heard you. And I appreciate your honesty.”
“But you didn’t—”
“Yes. I did,” she said, a thread of steel entering her voice. I opened my mouth to insist, but then my dragon spoke in my head.
‘Sometimes a male must accept that he has defeated himself and simply do what is best for the other. Let her go, Voski. Koa will comfort her.’
‘But—’
‘Hear wisdom when it is given to you,’ Kham sent—not angrily, but with a resigned sigh.
I just stood there like an idiot as Grace gave a little nod, then darted away into the trees.
I prayed she’d find her dragon quickly, that Koa had already reached her mind as well.
‘She shouldn’t be alone,’ I sent.
‘No. She shouldn’t,’ he replied. I waited for his insight and instruction. But he didn’t send anything else. And suddenly the power of his disapproval weighed heavily—and only grew when, within a few minutes, I felt him drawing away with Koa and Grace.