Sixteen
Liam
In the stillness of the night, I stood firm against the infirmary wall, keeping watch. It was the only thing I could do to feel useful.
My father had stopped in earlier then vanished, tending to the aftermath of the ambush. He’d come by to inform us they discovered why our posted guards hadn’t heard the invaders. The reason made my skin crawl.
The enemy had brought an Anuban witch.
Though rare in the Torrach Realm, there were a known handful of the dark practitioners. To my knowledge, however, none of them were known to reside anywhere on this continent.
Luckily, they hadn’t killed anyone. The witch had used a powerful spell to trap each guard inside a nightmare in their own mind. The spell died when the enemies fled.
It appeared they knew better than to kill a Duersian, but they weren’t smart enough to realize our father would never let the attack go.
The door creaked open. Gunnar's tall frame filled the entryway, his shadow spilling into the room like dark mead from an overturned chalice. The scent of iron and earth clung to him, remnants of battle that seemed out of place in the sanctuary of the infirmary.
"Make way, little brother," Gunnar grumbled, though his eyes softened upon seeing Mirrelle's still form. "I'll stand guard over her."
My chest tightened, wariness clashing with reluctant gratitude. It wasn't often Gunnar offered peace, let alone help.
But there he was, gaze lingering on Mirrelle with something close to affection. A warrior with a heart, then. Who would have thought the answer to softening him towards us was a little bloodshed?
"Raina," Gunnar called to her, his voice surprisingly gentle for a male more accustomed to barking orders. "Go. Clean up and rest. Liam will escort you. I've got Mirrelle."
Raina looked up, rubbing her sleepy eyes. A sharp inhale came when she noticed the flakes of dried blood coming off her hands.
She nodded once, a silent surrender to necessity.
"Thank you, Gunnar," she whispered.
As she passed by, I could see the tremble in her hands, the crimson stains on her skin and clothes. Knowing it wasn’t hers didn’t make it much easier to stomach.
Gunnar met my gaze through the dim light. There was no mistaking the intent behind that look. It was a silent plea to mend fences long broken, perhaps even a chance for redemption.
"Take care of her, Liam," he murmured, his tone brooking no argument. "She needs more than just a clean slate."
I nodded, not able to find words, unprepared for the shift in his demeanor. My brother slapped me on the shoulder and gave me a little push.
“Thank you. Asshole,” I grinned.
A grunt was his only reply before he took up position beside Mirrelle. I turned away, my thoughts a whirlwind of the past and the present.
What was to be my future? I honestly hadn’t given serious thought to it after Raina and I had parted ways. Not, at least, in terms of building a life with someone.
She was waiting for me at the main door, eyes drooping and still red. I twisted the handle and held it open for her, then did the same when we reached the guest house.
I led her up to her rooms, heading straight to her shower and turning knobs.
“What are you doing?” she asked from the doorway.
“Taking care of you.”
“Liam.”
“Don’t make it a big deal, flower.”
She gasped at my use of the nickname and I ignored her shock.
“You look like you’re going to pass out so I’m helping. Deal with it.”
The steam from the shower filled the small space as adjusted the temperature to a soothing warmth.
"Take your time," I told her.
Raina nodded, her purple eyes dim from the day's horrors. I left her there, enveloped in the mist that seemed to offer more comfort than I could.
I hustled back to my quarters, to my own shower, a quick, mechanical affair. The water sluiced over me, but it couldn't wash away my emotions.
By the time I returned to her room, the sound of the running water had ceased. My heart hammered against my ribs, a drum calling me to battle—a battle against my own desires.
The door to the bathroom opened and there she stood, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her hair damp and clinging to her face and neck. She was the image of vulnerability, and yet she bore an inner strength that shone through the mist like a beacon.
"Liam," she breathed, her voice soft.
She was a vision. A goddess. She deserved to be worshiped, to never look so lost again.
“Raina.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I closed the distance between us and captured her lips with mine. It wasn't gentle. It was the kiss of a male starved, of a beast claiming its mate.
Her initial puff of surprise melted into a moan that fueled my desire. My hands, traitorous and bold, found the sash of her robe and undid it with a swift tug. The fabric parted, revealing the curves and lines of her body, a landscape I'd once known intimately.
There was no stopping the primal urge that drove me to slide my hand down, to feel the heat of her, the slick promise of her desire. She arched into my touch, her body responding as if it remembered me, as if it craved my touch as much as I craved hers.
I broke away from her lips, trailing a line of kisses down her neck and collarbone as she let out a soft moan. I could feel her hands gripping onto my shoulders, holding on for dear life.
"Raina," I groaned her name again, this time as a prayer.
My fingers played with her folds then rose to her breast, spreading her sweet essence on a hardened peak. Her breath hitched as I lightly circled her nipple with my tongue, savoring the flavor of her arousal.
Gods she was so exquisite. I could spend days feasting between her legs.
Raina’s hips rocked forward and I almost lost control, the beast within demanding I plunge my aching cock inside and fuck her so thoroughly she’d never want another.
Frantically seeking her mouth once more, I held her tight with one arm behind her so the other could return to the apex of her thighs.
Her body trembled as I teased and pressed, altering the pressure and rhythm.
Raina’s pleas turned into demanding pants. My fingers delved deeper into her wetness, pumping smoothly as my palm pressed into her hardened nub.
Lifting my head to meet her gaze, I found raw need. Without wasting another moment, I increased the speed and pressure, watching her pupils dilate.
“You’re going to come hard for me, aren’t you, flower?” I growled.
I reveled in the way she arched against me, seeking her pleasure. She cried out my name as I brought her to the precipice, holding her there for a precious moment, staring into her eyes.
The sound stirred something primal within me and I pushed her over the edge. And then she was shattering, her climax taking her in waves that crashed through her body.
Raina clutched onto me as if I were the only stable thing in a world spinning out of control. I held on tight, keeping her upright as she spasmed around my fingers until finally relaxing in my arms.
With a deft movement, I pushed the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of cloth. Her skin, pale and perfect, glowed in the dim light, and for a moment, I was lost in the sight of her, in the realization that I had never stopped wanting her—not truly.
But this moment was more than just lust to me. It was a raw convergence of past pain, present danger, and the undeniable connection that still tethered our souls together. A connection I was beginning to understand might never be severed, no matter how I tried to fight it.
Why was I still fighting it? She was the only female I’d ever wanted to call mine.
My hands, roughened from years of wielding steel, pressed Raina firmly against the cool wall of her room. The wooden slats behind her were in danger of igniting from the heat we generated between us, a fire that threatened to consume all reason.
Her breath hitched, eyes wide with an emotion I couldn't place. Was it fear, anticipation, or something far more dangerous?
Something like unquenchable desire.
"I want you so much," I admitted, my voice hoarse with longing as I leaned in, fully intent on claiming my frost nymph right there, against that wall, drowning out the memory of how the last time had ended.
But then she placed a hand against my chest, and like a ward against dark magic, it halted me dead.
“Liam, stop,” she beseeched, voice strained. “I—I can’t. I can’t be hate-fucked again.”
“That’s not what this is,” I replied in earnest.
“Please. I can’t.” Raina’s lip quivered and nearly undid me.
Her rejection–and why–sliced deeper than any wound I'd ever received in battle. I had come at her with all of my pent-up anger, resentment, and raw need before. Why would she think this was different?
Raina had deflected me with a mere touch, not because she lacked the desire. Oh, I could feel it radiating off her. She deflected me because of how I’d treated her.
I stepped back, speechless, knowing I needed to bridge the gap, but not knowing the words I needed to do it. The silence between us grew heavy, laden with words unsaid and deeds undone.
My mind raced back through the past two years, recalling the vile things I had said and done. Each word and action had been a dagger, and I had wielded them with merciless precision, aiming for her heart.
Now, standing before her, the self-loathing twisted inside me like a living thing.
"Raina, I …" The words caught in my throat, guilt and sorrow strangling them.
What could I say? That I was sorry? That I wanted her, not just her body, but her. Her laughter, her stubbornness, her quiet resilience?
Raina looked at me, and under her scrutiny, I felt the worst emotion of them all. Fear.
I knew I may have damaged us beyond repair. Not that she didn’t share any of the blame, but I was the one who had gone out of his way to inflict additional pain.
The air hung thick with the scent of jasmine from her bath, and the candlelight flickered along the walls as if to bear witness to our tumultuous history.
Raina stood there waiting for me to say something with her robe pooled around her feet, the soft white fabric a stark contrast to the dark maelstrom of emotions swirling within me.
The fact she hadn’t attempted to cover herself was not lost on me. It forced the fog out of my head and pointed me to the pinprick of light that I hoped was my future.
"Please," her voice whispered through the tension, a plea for space, for time, for something I didn’t want to give but would.
"Rest," I managed to say, entrusting her with a part of myself I'd locked away. "You’ve been through a lot.”
Her eyes darted down and away. “Yes, today was … hard.”
Squatting, I lifted the robe and helped her get her arms into it. As I tied the sash for her, I said, “I wasn’t just talking about today.”
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, flower. We'll speak again in the morning."
I turned and left the room, retreating to the guest quarters below hers. I had a new home here, but I’d never slept in it, nor did it feel right to return to my old rooms in Speirhaus.
The balcony beckoned, a small half circle jutting out into the night, big enough for two chairs and a small table between them. I went to the railing, inhaling the crisp air that whispered through the koyu trees.
I stood stock still as I grappled with the truth that I wanted more from Raina than the fiery collision of our bodies. Craved it. Craved the unguarded laughter and tender moments we shared before fate and familial duty had torn her away from me.
For now, Raina needed space, and I would grant her that. But come morning, I swore to the stars that I would find a way to mend what had been broken.
The soft shuffle of feet alerted me to Raina's presence on her balcony above. My heart thrummed a warning beat, urging caution, but I couldn't resist inching back into the shadowed confines of my room, leaving the doors ajar for the ghost of her to find its way in.
Through the sliver of space, I was displeased to hear Gunnar's deep timbre, and a visceral response gripped me—an urge to charge up there, to protect what was mine from even my brother's eyes.
My hands clenched into fists at the possibility of her standing there, clad only in a robe, within reach of my brother. If he made a move on her I’d portal up there and break his neck.
"Mirrelle will be safe. Brahm is on watch until dawn," Gunnar's voice carried, a hint of mirth beneath the seriousness. "He practically booted me out of the infirmary to stand guard."
A laugh bubbled up from Raina, light and carefree, a sound I hadn't heard very often. I would need to rectify that.
“Why are you here, Gunnar?” she asked the question I badly wanted to know.
"Why do you think I'm here?" Gunnar's voice was low, almost gentle, an odd tone for him to take, especially with her.
"Did Brahm send you to check on me?"
"Partly," he admitted. "Brahm has the guards on high alert, and he wanted me to make sure you and Liam get some rest. But, mostly, I wanted to ask if you were okay?"
There was a pause, long enough for my pulse to throb in my ears. "Physically? I have barely a bruise on me," Raina responded, and I could picture the shrug that likely accompanied her words.
"That's not what I’m asking."
Silence hugged the space between them, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting for her response.
"Am I okay?" Her voice was laced with a sadness that knotted my insides. "I haven't been okay since the day my mother told me I was no longer going to marry Liam, that she and Father had other plans for me."
My heart clenched at the raw honesty in her confession.
"It’s my biggest regret," she continued, the words seeming to pull from the depths of her soul. "I let my childlike fantasy, my drive to be worthy, to feel my parents' love, I let it ruin the only thing that had ever made me happy."
Then she laughed humorously. “I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”
As Gunnar remained silent, I was left hanging, desperate for more yet dreading it just as much.
When he finally spoke, his voice was probing and earnest. "If you had another chance with him, would you take it?"
I leaned closer to the gap, my breath held captive by the gravity of the question.
"There's no ability to travel back in time," Raina replied, a note of wistfulness threading her words.
"Raina," he pushed, patient yet insistent, "I meant now. If you had another chance now."
When she finally spoke, her voice was a low murmur of resignation. "It doesn't matter. It's too late."
Her defeat sliced through me.
Gunnar wasn't deterred, his next words spilling out like an accusation. “My brother, as annoying as I often find him to be, is one of the most important beings in my life. And I have had to watch for nearly two years as he has struggled to live with only half of his soul. It's why I've resented you so much. He needs you to be complete. As far as I can tell, the same holds true for you, Raina."
The truth in his voice was a punch to the gut. This was why he’d been such a dick?
Perceptive bastard.
I was starting to accept that Raina was the key to my happiness. She always had been. Hearing Gunnar say it aloud only emboldened the belief.
Feeling bad about eavesdropping, I retreated further into the room and pondered the choices that lay ahead. Forever and always was a huge commitment and I wondered if she was ready for what I would likely demand of her sooner rather than later.
Returning to the bathroom, I brushed my teeth, chewing on the conversation I’d overheard. As I finished, I heard the main door open slowly.
I set down my toothbrush and walked out, knowing without seeing exactly who’d come to pay a visit. Gunnar, clad in his battle-worn leathers, stepped into the room as if he owned the place.
He often did so, a remnant of our brotherly bond.
“Thank you for knocking. Yes, please come in.”
Gunnar grinned at my razzing, looking around the guest quarters, landing on the opened balcony doors. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
He lifted a palm and curled his fingers back. “Come on. Say whatever you’re dying to say.”
"Why?" I asked.
He knew what I was asking.
"Because," Gunnar sighed, "I was tired of your mopey ass and her head buried in the snow when you both know you are meant to be. Poking at you didn’t work so I’m trying something else. Deal with it."
The corners of his mouth twitched upward, a glimmer of mischief in his hazel eyes that hadn't been there for years. His words, so blunt and unfiltered, struck a chord.
"You seem to be in one piece so I’ll go. Get some rest, brother," Gunnar said, already at the door, his hand on the handle.
"Wait," I called out, and he paused, looking at me expectantly.
"Thank you," I said, the words felt like shards of ice melting on my tongue. "And I'm sorry … for staying away and not giving you time. Not like a family should."
He nodded, a silent acknowledgment heavy with the weight of unsaid things. Then he was gone.
The room felt smaller as I began snuffing out the flames of light. The cold breeze from the balcony left a trail of goosebumps on my arms and I went over to close the doors, sealing the night outside, before finally crawling into bed.
The night stretched on, and I remained awake, wrestling with the idea of laying my soul bare. It was a gamble, but perhaps, just perhaps, it would be worth the risk.