Chapter 13 #2
"Perhaps you should fuck off before I decide your continued breathing is optional," I snarl without lifting my head from Nesilhan's belly, my voice carrying enough venom to kill a horse.
I feel Nesilhan stiffen above me, her hand stilling in my hair. When I finally look up, her expression has shifted from soft wonder to sharp irritation.
"Don't," she says firmly, her eyes flashing with warning. "Don't speak to him like that."
"Why not?" I ask, rising slowly to my feet while keeping one hand possessively on her belly. "The pathetic little worm is interrupting a private moment with my fucking wife."
"I'm not your—" she begins, but I cut her off.
"Aren't you?" I ask with dark amusement, my thumb tracing a possessive pattern across her belly. "Tell me, zevciyem , do you remember what you whispered in my ear that night we created this miracle? Because I do. I remember every word."
Color floods her cheeks so rapidly, I'm genuinely concerned about her blood pressure. "You bastard," she hisses.
"That's not what you called me then," I point out helpfully, leaning closer so only she can hear my next words. "Though you seemed quite…attached to me then. Couldn't bear to let me leave your side, if memory serves."
"Stop," she whispers, but I can see the effect my words are having—the rapid pulse at her throat, the way her breathing has gone shallow and quick.
Sinan, bless his noble heart, apparently decides this is the moment to play hero. "You need to leave her alone," he says, rising from his chair with admirable courage and questionable sense of self-preservation. "She's told you she doesn't want this."
I turn my attention to him with the kind of smile that makes intelligent people make peace with their gods. "Has she? Because from where I'm standing, her body is telling quite a different story."
I take a step closer to him, letting my shadows writhe with enthusiastic menace. "Tell me, Sinan—may I call you Sinan?—what exactly do you think you're offering her? Safety? Protection? The thrilling prospect of mediocre conversation over breakfast for the rest of her natural life?"
"I'm offering her choice," he says firmly, though his voice wavers slightly. "Something she clearly doesn't have with you."
"Choice," I repeat thoughtfully. "How noble. How utterly, devastatingly boring." My voice drops to something deadly soft. "Tell me, what exactly do you think you know about her? About what she needs?"
Sinan's face flushes red. "I know enough?—"
"Oh, but you don't," I interrupt with razor-sharp precision. "You see her smile and think you understand her light. But do you know how that light burns when she's truly passionate? Do you know she talks to the baby when she thinks she's alone?"
I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that carries clearly in the morning air. "Did you know she calls out my name in her dreams?"
The explosion, when it comes, is magnificent.
Golden light erupts from Nesilhan's skin like a solar flare given physical form, so bright and sudden that both Sinan and I stumble backward with spots dancing across our vision. But this time, instead of destroying what's immediately around her, the power lances upward like a bolt of lightning.
The bronze statue in the center of the square—some long-dead mayor immortalized in metal—takes the full force of her uncontrolled magic.
The figure doesn't just melt; it explodes, bronze fragments raining down like metallic snow while thunder rolls across the clear morning sky.
I instinctively shield Nesilhan with my body as the cooled metal pieces patter harmlessly around us, my shadows forming a protective canopy above her head.
"Well," comes a familiar dry voice from behind us, "I see the morning entertainment has begun early today."
I turn to find Banu approaching with her characteristic swagger, surveying the smoking remains of civic property with obvious amusement.
"Really, Sinan," she continues, brushing bronze dust from her sleeve, "I thought you had better survival instincts than to flirt with a woman whose husband could turn you inside out without breaking a sweat. "
"Though I must say," adds another voice, rich with barely contained laughter, "watching you grovel at her feet like a lovesick puppy was quite the performance piece, Shadow Lord."
Elcin emerges from behind the fountain's remains, her golden hair catching the light with that otherworldly shimmer that makes her look almost ethereal. Her storm-gray eyes coolly assess the situation.
"Elcin," I say with resigned recognition. "I should have known you'd show up to witness my public humiliation. Did you bring refreshments to make it a proper spectacle?"
She offers a faint, wary smile. "You provide your own entertainment. I arrived in time for the aftermath."
Her gaze flicks between the destroyed statue and where I still have one possessive hand on Nesilhan's belly, taking in everything with a soldier's detachment.
"Kneeling in public squares, making grown men flee in terror, destroying civic property," she remarks lightly. "Is this how diplomacy is conducted in the Shadow Court?"
"Elcin," Nesilhan breathes, and there's recognition in her voice that makes my shadows coil with interest.
Elcin inclines her head slightly. "Hello, cousin." Her tone softens, just enough to suggest something familial. "I see you’re still attracting complicated men with strong convictions."
"I wasn't—" Nesilhan begins, but Elcin lifts a hand.
"Peace. I’m not here to interfere." She glances at me briefly. "Though I’ll admit, this one doesn’t match the usual mold."
Her tone is neutral, carefully noncommittal, but there’s a subtle edge of tension—not fear, but awareness. She's sizing me up. Taking my measure.
"Most women," I say conversationally, "aren't my wife."
"True," she replies evenly, her expression unreadable. "And most don’t have their marriages forgotten."
Before I can formulate a suitably cutting response, Emir materializes beside us with the harried expression of a man whose morning has taken several unexpected turns.
"My lord," he says carefully, "we have—" He stops mid-sentence as his gaze falls on Elcin, and I watch with interest as his usual composure cracks slightly. Banu notices his reaction and approaches with a knowing smile. Emir scoots closer to her, lowering his voice.
"She's still here?" he murmurs discreetly, his voice pitched low enough that only Banu should be able to hear. "The cousin from the Northern Reaches?"
Before Banu can answer, Elcin's voice cuts across the space between us, her tone polite but firm.
"Still very much present, yes."
She offers a slight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Whether it's keen hearing or practiced court awareness, she's made it clear she misses nothing.
Sinan, who has been standing frozen throughout this entire exchange, finally seems to find his voice.
"I think," he says carefully, backing away from our group with whatever dignity he can salvage, "I should leave you all to…discuss family matters privately."
He gives Nesilhan one last concerned look. "Elif, if you need anything..."
"She won't," I say flatly.
Sinan nods once and retreats with admirable speed, leaving us to our increasingly complicated morning.
Banu claps her hands together with false cheer.
"Right then, I think this calls for a more private discussion."
She loops her arm through Emir's and somehow manages to hook Elcin's as well, despite the taller woman's obvious reluctance.
"Come along, you two. Let's give the lovebirds a moment to process their impending doom in peace."
I watch as Banu successfully herds our unwanted audience away from the square, her voice fading as she guides them toward the inn.
Emir throws me one last warning look over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner, leaving the square blissfully empty except for scattered bronze fragments and the lingering scent of ozone.
When the radiance finally fades completely, Nesilhan sits in her chair with her chest heaving, her golden eyes blazing with enough heat to melt steel. She's never looked more beautiful or more dangerous, and I'm fairly certain I've never been more aroused in my entire existence.
Once we are alone at last, her gaze snaps to mine, and the fury there should terrify me. Instead, it makes me want to drag her somewhere private and show her exactly how much her display of power has affected me.
"You," she says, her voice shaking with barely controlled rage, "are insufferable and?—"
"Devastatingly handsome?" I suggest helpfully. "Irresistibly charming? Magnificently?—"
"You're horrible," she snaps, her eyes flashing with genuine anger. "Do you think this is amusing?"
"No," I say quietly, my flippant mask slipping for a moment as I settle into the chair Sinan has so recently vacated. "But watching another man touch you? That wasn't amusing at all."
She stares at me, some of the fire in her eyes flickering with confusion. "That doesn't give you the right to?—"
"To what?" I interrupt, leaning forward. "To remind everyone that you belong with me? To show you that no matter what name you're hiding behind, you're still mine?"
"I don't belong to anyone," she says, but her voice wavers slightly.
"Don't you?" I ask softly, watching as her breathing quickens. "Then why does your pulse race when I'm near? Why do you glow brighter when I touch you?"
She looks down at her hands, and I can see the faint golden shimmer still lingering on her skin from our earlier contact.
"Come," I say, standing and offering her my hand. "Let's continue this conversation somewhere with fewer combustible monuments."
For a moment, I think she'll refuse. Then she takes my hand, and the connection that blazes between us at the simple touch nearly brings me to my knees.
Whatever's building between us, it's growing stronger.
And judging by the way she's looking at me—half fury, half hunger—she feels it too.