Chapter 14 #2
I swallowed back the pain and tore through the trees. I let the battle haze take over and carry me through the winding paths until I heaved in the threshold and slammed the door shut. I only made it a few strides before I collapsed. My whole body shook, wracked with tremors.
A single glance at my wound and I upended my stomach. Fighting with the monster split it further, and my flesh hung open past my elbow. Though the wound was sticky and coagulated, the bleeding showed no sign of slowing, and consciousness slipped away like melting snow.
If I don’t do something, I’ll die.
I scanned the entry hall until I found the distant door.
The sheets. If I shred them, they might staunch the bleeding.
Though it was difficult, I rose with the aid of my remaining limb.
I hobbled to the chair. By the time my fingers brushed its cloth surface, the door exploded inward.
It banged against the thin frame and shredded the wood, hanging at an unnatural angle.
Even in his leathers and partial plate, I watched his chest rise and fall violently. “What’s happened to you?” Aelen shouted, his voice echoing across the small room.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I repeated with a trembling voice. But my knees wavered, and I collapsed to the ground.
He rushed to my side, lifting my arm but taking care not to graze the wound. “What did this?”
“The forest.”
It was a lie, but only slightly. Somehow closer to the truth than anything I’d ever told him.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes." But when I tried to wrench myself up, the room slipped further away, as if I fell into a sinkhole, the table stretching further and further from reach.
"Let me help you," he said, putting his arm beneath my shoulder and trying to hoist me up.
I swatted his hands away fruitlessly. "I'm fine," I managed barely above a whisper.
"You're stubborn and stupid is what you are," he snapped. "Stop fighting me before you bleed out.”
I loosed a trembling breath, the only response I could muster.
He forced me against his chest and lifted, his scent invading my mind. I lingered on the threshold between life and death; the world closer to a dream. But that nightmare smelled like an ancient forest, torn leaves, and cracking oak. Warmth. A familiar peace as he carried me.
He tugged my face into the crook of his neck as he rounded into the room.
I didn’t fight as he laid me onto the bed, his fingers lingering on my cheek. I couldn’t.
Though the room was dark, the shadows remained still. As still as I was, drawing in great, gasping breaths.
He went into a frenzy, grabbing sheets and a blade, but he neither strangled nor cut me.
The linen took the brunt of his anger. While he tore up the sheet, wan moonlight filtered through the pane and caught on his face.
He looked deadly, his sharp bone structure somewhere between a carving and a predator.
The rips broke the dreadful silence.
He wrapped the fabric around my upper arm and gave me a sad look before wrenching it down into a makeshift tourniquet. "I'm sorry," he whispered when I winced and groaned.
When the blood loss slowed to his liking, he turned his attention to my wounds.
His lips were leaden with sorrow as he affixed the flesh together ever so carefully.
His touch held the same tenderness when he wrapped and tied the sheets to pin them in place.
He could have prodded to bring pain, but he didn’t.
He worked and wrapped methodically, press, sheet, press, sheet, and every time he touched, it was done with gentleness and care.
And all I could do was wonder why.
“Why aren’t you hurting me?” I whispered.
The shadows roared to life, winding along the rafters with a fresh anger.
His brows creased, sharp lines that spilled a thousand truths. “Why would I injure you? When you’ve already been torn to pieces.”
I hated the earnestness that laced his voice. Like a vile poison he’d left to trap me—and I fell right into his web. My life only mattered to him because of the pact that tied me to his leader. I was nothing more than a pawn, and I couldn’t forget that.
I was nothing to him.
But causing me pain wouldn’t mean death. He could keep me alive, and still leave me in agony. Yet didn’t. I forced the thought away and focused on the shadows drifting along the walls. The way they caressed the ceiling.
“You could keep me alive. Stop me from dying. Poke and prod. Make it hurt.”
“I understand I should desire to reduce you to tears, but the truth of the matter is I don’t want to.” Silence settled across us as he shredded another sheet. “You would do the same if I were the one writhing about on death’s door.”
I pressed my nails into my palm. Anything to separate myself from this. “How did you find me?”
He sucked in a breath, and his fingers shook against my wound. “By the stars—it was the godsdamn blood trail!” The next time he wrapped the makeshift bandage, he had to restrain himself. “Where was the lantern?”
“I dropped it somewhere in the snow.”
“In the trees?”
I nodded.
My chest tightened, and I waited for the chastising to come. For him to scream at me for wandering in the forest, especially without him. But he merely sighed.
I was tempted to grab the knife tucked beneath me and drive it through the tension that lay between us.
But I didn’t, and enjoyed the lightning his touch sent up my arm.
I enjoyed it far too much when it ran down my body.
Or when it settled deep below, when his eyes found mine.
And the way the throbbing intensified every time he caressed my arm further than necessary.
Or dared to lay his hand across my cheek.
When he finished wrapping the wound, his palm grew bright. A glowing thread snaked its way up the gash. Slowly, wound it together, mending it. Yet it wasn’t painful, despite the magic weaving through my broken skin. No, there was only his warmth and the brush of his breath.
“I’m meant to hate you,” I said.
His husky voice hung at the bottom of his throat. “Are you?” His gaze caught mine, ensnaring me against my will. “And why is that?” His fingers never left my arm, lingering on my skin.
“You’re not like us.”
And you hate me because I’m not like you.
“That’s what they had you believe, isn’t it?” A growl ripped through his chest, and he leaned ever closer, pinning me like prey. “Tell me, what’s the difference between us, besides my lengthy ears?”
“I—” I grappled for the words but found none. What was the difference? The only one I could put to words was his extensive and seemingly boundless deceit.
“You’re a liar. You hide everything from me. You’ve never once been yourself. Though we’ve spent weeks in each other’s company, I hardly know anything about you.”
He recoiled, as if I’d slapped him. But then, to my shock, he hung his head.
“I saw you. That day outside the tavern. You were fleeing, then disposed of coin because you thought I was hungry. Why did you do that? I thought the humans were selfish and self-seeking. And there you were. A princess gallivanting among peasants and sharing. It seems neither of us is what we seem, are we?”
He paused while the color drained from me. I tightened my legs as the throbbing warmth between them grew relentless.
“That’s what I thought.” He inched closer until his lips brushed my cheek. I shivered at the welcome touch. “You’re shaking. What are you afraid of?”
Was it him? Somewhere inside I knew he wouldn’t slit my throat. Not after he’d sat and stitched me back together. I wasn’t afraid of him. What was it then?
“The dark.”
He held out a hand toward the hearth. With a flick of his fingers, it roared to life, engulfing us in light and searing air.
His long fingers lifted to my cheek, cupping and grazing it. I couldn’t focus on anything but his touch and his hot breath along my face. I drank in each one of them, and my flesh begged for more.
His grip tightened, and he wouldn’t let my gaze wander from his. “There. Light. And yet you're still trembling. What are you really afraid of?"
"I—" I searched for the words but the deeper I fell his gaze, the further my thoughts went, until they were so far away I couldn't ever imagine touching them. Speaking them.
He inched closer, his lips lingering just before me. "You said you're afraid of the dark. I gave you light. If you want something, all you need is to ask." He exhaled, the warmth blooming along my cheeks. "Any. Other. Requests?”
Yes. Every ounce of me screamed yes, but I didn’t dare utter it out loud. I couldn’t make it real and tangible. Not here. Not now.
“No,” I breathed.
He pulled away, and I mourned the loss of his touch. I pressed my lids together from the sheer pain.
“Wait—” Before I finished, his lips met mine. He tasted of smoke, the forest, and ancient desire.
I should have pulled away. I should have pushed him off me, but I didn’t.
I wrapped my fingers around his chiseled cheeks and traced up to the long shell of his ear.
His tongue found mine where we tangled together, coming together in a way that could only be described as language.
A mutual understanding. He pressed harder, bruising my lips and I groaned into him.
It wasn't at all like my stolen kisses with the milkmaidens. It stole my goddamn breath, pulsated heat across me in ways I'd never known existed. In ways I didn't think it could.
I pressed further into him, reflexively lifting my hand to stroke his cheek—but pain shot across it, bright and searing.
I broke our embrace to gasp and wince. When I did, he lifted my arm across my chest, pinning my fingers into the leather.
His features were flushed and unreadable. An empty enigma that gave me nothing. “Keep this close while it heals. It should be sealed by first sun.”
He wanted to pretend that never happened. Good. I shouldn’t have done that.
We shouldn't have done that.
Before I could speak a single word, he jumped from the bed and propped himself against the wall’s rotted boards. He slammed his lids shut, despite his upright position.
“What are you doing?”
He cracked a single eye. “Making certain the shadows leave you be. With your lack of lantern, of course.”
“You could just get the lantern.”
“Would you like me to leave you alone in the dark while I disappear into the forest?”
I gulped and sank beneath the quilt without further protest. Someone might put up a fight, but it wouldn’t be me.
He smirked and ignored my silence. Cocky, as usual, but not unkind. It would be much easier to despise him if he’d return to being a bastard. But he’d saved my life again. I almost despised that more, yet still decided he deserved a sliver of the truth. “The forest didn’t—”
“I know. I’m all too aware it wasn’t the woods that split you in two. Tomorrow we’ll train. Do not approach a dragon without me there.” He clicked his tongue softly. “Clearly, in my absence, I cannot guarantee your safety. Rest well. You’ll need it.”
I matched his ease, settling into the bed with heavy lids, but my heart drummed in my ears. A beat that wouldn’t let me sleep. As the minutes ticked on, there was a shuffling—a scurry that made the hair on my clutched arm stand on end. But I didn’t dare look.
Familiar fingers brushed the back of my hand, and soft lips caressed it. It was so brief I questioned if it happened.
But it did. And when sleep finally took me, that small kiss haunted my dreams.