Chapter 18
Serafina
“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit.” My steps are quick as I move through the hidden passageways, heading straight for my room.
“You already said that,” Theo mumbles from behind me.
I turn around, glaring at him with everything I have. “Quit following me.” My hands ignite, flames licking at my skin and the air above.
His eyes widen briefly before that infuriating smirk of his returns.
“I would not be the gentleman that I am if I did not make sure you made it back to your room safely.” He grins, and I want to scream, scoff, and slap him all at the same time. “Plus, I’m more than a little curious to watch my cousin’s reaction to your little excursion.”
And there it is. The real reason he’ll see me back to my room because Theo Bray does not care about my safety.
“You’re insufferable. Has anyone ever told you that?” I clench my jaw before breaking into a sprint.
“You realize there’s no point in rushing , right?” he calls after me, his heavy footsteps not far behind. “You know he’s already there. Waiting.”
Fuck.
He’s right.
What am I trying to do? Beat him there?
I’m so screwed.
Finally, I reach the wall with the hidden door, the place where this adventure began.
What am I going to say to him?
What is he going to say to me?
I push the wall open and bolt to my room.
And freaking Theo is right behind me.
Holding my breath, I enter. And just as Theo predicted, Jax is already there.
His broad shoulders rise and fall far too fast, and shadows pour from his fingers, flooding the room, reaching every corner, every crevice, but Theo doesn’t so much as blink, which tells me he knows exactly who—or what—Jax is.
I, on the other hand, can barely swallow at the sight of his shadows taking on a life of their own. Bending and twisting, snaking across the ground before climbing the walls.
Jax’s eyes flick to me, then Theo, and I swear, if looks could kill, Theo would be dead right now.
“What the fuck, Theo?” Ryjax is on him in a second, fists curled in his shirt, forcing his cousin’s back to slam against the wall. “I told you to stay the fuck away from her.”
It takes my brain a moment to catch up, too stunned that Jax’s fury isn’t directed at me.
But I know that won’t last long.
“It’s not his fault.” I force the words out because even though Theo is just as infuriating as his cousin often proves to be, he doesn’t deserve this. “Let him go, Jax.” It’s a demand I have no business making.
Not to him, the prince.
The prince who I disobeyed.
But Jax doesn’t let him go, though I can’t really blame him. Especially with Theo smirking at him like he has a death wish.
“Relax, Cousin,” Theo drawls, holding his arms by his head. “I found your little Pyroflame hidden in the passages. The same passages I can only assume were revealed to her by you.”
Realization crosses Jax’s face, and he releases him. His fingers find his hair, pushing it from his forehead before he turns to me.
“You promised.” There’s pain in his voice, a sound that pierces my ears in such an abrupt and heart-wrenching way.
But it’s more than just pain.
It’s fear. Undeniable, unrelenting fear, and part of me wants to soothe his pain, wash away his fear, but now that he’s finally here, after days of being away, I just want to scream at him. Because he left me.
“And you weren’t here,” I say, and I hate that my voice somehow matches his, low and hoarse, because why do I care so much that he’s been gone?
My words linger between us, and I wish I hadn’t said them, but I did, so I might as well say them again, so he hears me, really hears me. “You weren’t here, Jax.”
He purses his lips, studying me, his chest still heaving like he can’t catch his breath. And with the way he’s looking at me, neither can I.
“I had business elsewhere,” he finally says, and the lack of explanation makes my heart sink.
“And you couldn’t have said goodbye before you left? It’s been six days. Would it have killed you to let me know?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d care.”
I whip my head to the side as if he’d slapped me. Gods, I truly am a fool. The biggest fool.
He didn’t think I’d care…because if roles were reversed and I had left without a word, he wouldn’t give a flying fuck.
“If it makes you feel any better, Little Flame,” Theo says from behind me, and for the first time, I welcome the sound of his voice, the distraction from my stinging eyes and shaking hands. “He didn’t say goodbye to me, either. And exactly where have you been, Cousin?”
Jax looks at Theo. The shift is slow, but I’m glad he’s no longer looking at me. “Bragunda.”
Theo stiffens. It’s subtle, but I see it.
“I thought I’d be back sooner. I misjudged how long it would take to find what I was looking for.”
Theo isn’t breathing, but he takes a step toward Jax, and the prince shakes his head ever so slightly, like a silent conversation is passing between them.
Theo’s throat bobs, and his eyes turn glossy. This man, who always seems to be full of humor and witty remarks, looks like Jax has absolutely gutted him. Destroyed his heart, his soul, every damn part of him.
Then, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him, and I don’t have the faintest clue what happened, but then Jax’s gaze falls back to me.
He was in another country. That’s why he’s been away. But even so…
“I saw you,” I say, my throat feeling tight. “With those women. Didn’t really seem like you were taking meetings in Bragunda to me.”
His expression changes. Anger morphing into something else…and suddenly, I want to bury myself alive.
“Nova,” he says, his voice thick and gods-damned intoxicating. And for the first time, I curse the nickname he gave me and the way it makes my stomach flip and my chest ache. “Are you…jealous?” He raises a brow, stepping toward me, but I take two steps in the opposite direction.
“Of course not.” My words come out far harsher than I intended.
“Liar.” I suck in a breath, my eyes darting around the room because there’s that voice again. The same one that woke me up a few days ago, but after looking at Jax, it’s clear he didn’t hear it.
“You sure about that?” He takes another step toward me, but this time I don’t move, his proximity drawing my attention back to only him.
“You promised not to say stupid things anymore.” I cross my arms, refusing to meet his eyes, and he lets out a long sigh.
“And you promised not to leave this room,” he reminds me, and now I really feel like disappearing because he’s right.
I did promise that.
And I don’t have any right to be mad at him. He doesn’t owe me anything. Not his time or his explanations.
My shoulders sag, and the walls I had built up to make myself seem stronger start to crumble.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, and I do mean it. “I shouldn’t have left. I was just…” I cringe because I hate when people apologize only to follow it with an excuse. That’s not an apology, and in this particular instance, Jax deserves one.
“Lonely,” he finishes for me, his golden eyes holding mine in a way that makes me feel seen.
I nod, but then my nostrils flare because he may see me, but I don’t see him.
“You know me,” I say. “I’ve told you things, and now you know me. At least part of me. But I know nothing about you.”
“And you want to?” He tilts his head.
“I do.”
“Noted.”
Then, that’s it. He doesn’t say a thing, and neither do I. But we don’t stop staring at each other.
Finally, he clears his throat. “In order for this to work, you’re going to need to ask me some questions,” he points out, and my lips part because today has been nothing if not embarrassing and somehow it hasn’t stopped.
I search my brain, so many questions emerging all at once, but I need to be careful with what I choose to ask.
There are things he won’t tell me. Things he’ll continue to keep hidden, keep secret, like who gave him those scars.
But then finally, my mind lands on one thing I’ve been desperate to know.
“Why don’t you ever smile?”
His brows raise, both of them, as if surprised, but then he schools his features.
“Princes don’t get to wear smiles.” His tone is steady, his eyes reading mine.
“It’s a shame,” I say, pressing my lips together. “I quite like yours.”
That seems to do it, lift the weight that’s settled between us. The corner of his mouth tugs up, but the full smile doesn’t reveal itself, and I realize that I like that it’s hard to earn. That he won’t allow just anyone to see it.
“And the tattoo?” I ask next, worried it might be too personal, but he said he would let me know him, and I need to know if he meant it.
He clenches his jaw, and for a long while, he does only that, until finally, he releases a sigh and opens his mouth to speak, “I have a difficult time,” he begins, his words slow and aching, “letting people in, and I suppose, in a way, at least for me, the tattoo represents that.”
Thorns.
Long, sharp thorns, and if they were real—truly existing on the surface of his skin—every touch, every moment too close, would hurt. But they wouldn’t only hurt those who touched him, they would hurt him as well. And I wonder if that’s the way he wants it, the way he meant it to be.
Part of me wants to reach out and touch him, show him that letting people in doesn’t always lead to pain, but who am I to be the one to show him such a thing?
I decide to ask another question instead.
“How often do you train?” My mind flashes back to him in that room, wielding his sword like it truly was an extension of himself.
“Often.”
“But why? When you can command the shadows, guide the light, why bother practicing with a sword?” It’s a genuine question, one I truly want to know the answer to.
He drops his head.