28. An Understanding
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
An Understanding
Another dawnlight had passed, and I sat atop the iron bed in the second chamber I claimed for my own. Cassiel had remained in the neighboring one where I had left him the eve before. After all the physical exertion, I almost had no strength to drag myself away.
I stared down at the ribbons carefully laid within the velvet case. Made of beautiful silk that was stained a faint ivory and had carefully sewn edges. It was the finest silk I had ever owned.
It was not his first gift to me.
He’d given me the journal with the flower penned inside.
That bloom—the one his first kindness had planted—pushed its way through the weight that had fallen over it.
As frustratingly oafish as the Warlord was, I could not deny the sweet actions. He had given this gift to me with lovely words.
I fell onto my back with a huff.
Maddening Warlord. I pressed my hand to my pounding heart. I had yet to thank him for it. Did he deserve gratitude?
Groaning, I shut my eyes.
Saints take me. Swinging my legs to the side, I scooted off the bed. I left my slippers off and shuffled out of my chamber. The door to his chamber was ajar. I poked my head in, in time to watch Cassiel slap a book shut and shove it under the pillow.
The act stunned me. What did he hide?
“What was that?”
He feigned confusion. “Amara?”
I continued forth until I reached the side of the bed he had hidden the book. He snatched it from under the pillow.
“Why are you hiding your book?” I asked. A smile teased my lips. “Is it an improper one?”
He seemed taken even more off guard. “No.”
I lunged forward, reaching across the bed. He yanked back, but I fell over him, pinning his legs which did not allow him a retreat. I plucked the book from his grip.
How to Court a Lady.
I raised an eyebrow. “Some light reading?” I mused.
“Yes,” he murmured gruffly. I pulled the book away before he took it, backing away with laughter slipping free. “I found it during my run to the village at a shop.”
I flipped to the introduction.
“Gentlemen, the matters of the heart are not to be trifled with,” I said in an exaggerated tone. “Show her with small, meaningful moments how you value her . . .” I trailed off, reading the passage.
Hereforth there are women that must be valued. Many call it sentimental folly, but if you, a man, are desirous of a woman and you are keen on winning her regard, you must humble yourself.
The small acts herein will aid you. But be warned, gentle sir, you must persist.
Only when you show what your words claim will she know and see your love.
The book was snatched from my hand.
“Enough of that.” He cleared his throat.
A pink flush worked up his neck, stretching to encompass his face. I continued to laugh even as I retreated in the face of his ire. Cassiel kept forward until my back hit the wall.
“Find me quite humorous?” he groused, so close that my back was flush to the wall.
I clamped my hand over my mouth, but the sounds kept coming.
Cassiel leaned down so his face hovered over mine.
The blush had not left his face. He seemed almost sheepish over it, still he did not back away, gaze scanning my face.
The corner of his mouth twitched up in a semi-sneer and exposed his fangs.
“You rubbing my feet makes much more sense,” I said between my guffaws. Tears dampened my eyes from humor. He watched me, his face having softened.
“Another passage claims you would enjoy stolen kisses.”
The intensity with which he stared at me and his soft voice cut me right off. His reaction to being caught was rather sweet. I did not doubt his truthfulness.
His lips were still curved up. Tenderness filled me upon looking at his soft expression. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his in a quick kiss.
He inhaled sharply, wide eyes still on mine.
We stared at each other. One breath, two, then his lips were flush against mine. He claimed my mouth with passion, grasping me to his chest hard until my back arched and breasts pressed against him.
I met the clash of his tongue with the same fervor. He took my mouth so wholly, licking and coaxing my tongue to tangle with his. Cassiel dragged one hand lower until he gripped my bottom, pressing my hips higher. My leg rested against his thigh.
I ran my hand up his shoulder until I touched the tips of his hair. I curled my fingers around the soft strands.
Cassiel slowly withdrew, swiping his tongue across my lower lip.
I panted, face a hair’s breadth away from his.
“You want to court me?” I breathed. “Or is all this effort for someone else?” I remarked, a small, and foolish, bite of jealousy in my tone.
“No other exists beyond you.”
I exhaled, opening my mouth to speak, and quickly clamped it shut. He pierced me with his intensity.
“In truth, I cannot promise I will be able to forgive you,” I whispered.
He moved his jaw from side to side. “I do not need it. I only need you.”
“That has always been the issue. You do not acknowledge how you’ve hurt me.” Frustration seeped into my tone.
He let out a slow breath, seemingly at a loss for words.
“I suppose I do not have a choice,” I breathed against his lips.
He stilled, and his head whipped to the side toward the door. The laughter died in my throat at the sound of breaking wood. With a few strides, he reached the exit. Just as quickly, he turned back toward me.
“Cassiel,” I hissed.
“Shh.” Cassiel blew out the candles near the door. He whipped around and strode back to me, one hand going to the side of my face. “I will not have you in danger.” The way he looked at me teetered on the edge of worry.
“Wh—” His palm pressed over my mouth.
“Silence,” he whispered against my ear.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the wall toward the wardrobe.
He pulled it open and jerked his head toward it.
I glared and shook my head. His expression hardened, and he forced me inside.
My foot slipped, but I caught myself and pressed within the coats hanging inside.
Cassiel closed the wardrobe, but I pressed my face against the door, peering through the slit.
I squeezed my damp hands into fists.
Screams ripped through my memory. The sounds of Hollows feeding on my family—
Cassiel’s retreating steps strengthened my resolve. I opened the wardrobe since I refused to stay put. I managed a peek at the back of his head as he descended. My slipperless feet padded silently, leaving me to follow without sound.
Scuffling and grunts stopped me near the bottom of the stairs. Then a loud crash of wood splintering. I peered to find a body flying through the air and landing on the settee.
Cassiel reached for the dull sword hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. The blade slid across the brick. Dust flaked off the wall as he removed the weapon.
“Amara!”
That was not Cassiel’s voice. I lunged past the final step, hurtling into the hall leading to the parlor.
Cassiel swung his dull blade, and a loud clang echoed from their swords meeting.
I followed the path to the man holding the blade.
A rugged, familiar face, broad shoulders, and a tapered waist. Archer swiped his blade up in a parry.
Sweat glistened on Cassiel’s forehead. Moonlight beamed through the iron-framed windows. His arm trembled the slightest bit. The curled lip and the strength he feigned could not mask the weakness dragging him.
Me.
He was still weakened by me and how he was keeping me alive. For all the strength he had regained, I remained his burden. Cassiel pulled his sword back, causing Archer’s blade to slam into the floor. As Cassiel was about to drive the blade through Archer’s stomach, I screamed, “Stop!”
Cassiel continued the drive of the sword in a downward arc. Archer’s arms trembled. I threw myself to Cassiel’s side, grabbing his arm. The movement forced them both to look at me, but Cassiel’s skill and strength allowed him to drive the blade out of Archer’s hand.
“Amara,” Liadan breathed, coming out from the shadowed corner. He had a bow and arrow that were no longer notched. “Thank Saints, I thought we were done for.”
Cassiel snarled and stepped forward. I pressed a palm against his stomach.
“This is Liadan.” I pushed in front of Cassiel. “A friend,” I insisted. Then turned back to the slim man I had met at the brothel. “I did not think I would see you again.”
“Nor I. After you disappeared, I was left scrambling. I would have discovered your absence sooner if I had not been hiding from the Guard.” Liadan kept peering at Cassiel.
I swung to look at Archer. “Where is Tabby?”
A man stepped out of the shadows, distracting me from my question.
“Amara, this is Morak. He leads the Resistance,” Liadan explained.
“May I speak to you, Liadan?” the man he introduced said. His swarthy complexion and the lines at his eyes placed him near forty annums.
Liadan inclined his head and retreated. Morak watched Cassiel with obvious distrust. They backed away, stepping outside.
“Tabby is safely tucked away,” Archer rumbled in his deep voice, bringing my attention over to him.
“I thought you said you were not involved with the Resistance.”
“I was not,” Archer admitted. “But after His Highness,” Archer gave Cassiel another sneer, “discovered us, I could not count on my gift to keep my people hidden.”
Cassiel was much too quiet. I noted the angle of his head and his focused glare toward where the other two men exited.
“What are they saying?” I whispered.
Cassiel pressed his finger to my lips. I didn’t miss how Archer put his hand on the grip hanging from his waist as if preparing to fight. I slightly shook my head at Archer. His mouth flattened, and he turned his back to us.
“You are being oafish,” I reproached.
Cassiel’s lips twitched.
“The Resistance leader does not want to bring me.” He chuckled. “Saints help him if he attempts to take you from me.” His smile was too vicious. As if he wanted the man to try. The warning was as much for him as it was for me.
“Will you behave?” I began and lowered my voice. “This is the Resistance. We will need their help to get into the House of Lords again.”
Cassiel drew straighter, a smirk crossing his lips. I hated when he became this arrogant beast. One that saw no reason.
Footsteps cut me off as Morak and Liadan entered. Both looked irate.
I did not miss how Liadan, Archer, and Morak continued to eye Cassiel. Though Cassiel was not doing himself any favors.
“Come with me,” I muttered and tugged Cassiel’s sleeve. He followed my bidding, but continued to palm the hilt. The ease with which he swung it was an obvious threat.
“Give us a moment. Wait for us in the parlor.” I smiled at Archer and Liadan. They shared a glance. I did not bother staying to explain more to them, just grabbed hold of Cassiel’s arm and yanked until he followed me down the hall to the study.
“You cannot allow your frustrating Warlord pride to cause a rift. We will work with them,” I warned, shutting the door behind us.
“Oh, will I?” His brows twitched upward.
“Yes.” I lifted my chin and approached him. “Because I said so.” I poked him right in the middle of his chest.
His fangs flashed in his wide smile. “Hmm,” he hummed. “I need no one’s help to regain what has been mine for centuries.”
“Yes, you do,” I retorted bluntly. “Unless you want to get me killed.”
He stilled, anger rippling over his features. The grinding of his teeth sounded again like gravel scraping against each other.
“I beg you, do not battle with them.” I pointedly looked at Cassiel.
He grunted and crossed his arms.
“You expect me to accept working with the mortals that caused me such strife?” He cocked his head. “I hunted these people. If I had found them beforehand, I would have slaughtered every last one.”
I wrung my hands together.
“We will have allies, and for any plan to work, we cannot do it alone. Especially because you are not . . .”
“I am aware,” he said stiffly. “I am weakened.”
“Then you should know this is in our favor.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. Those analytical eyes flicking down to my lips, then returning to my eyes.
“I will do as you command.” He leaned closer until his lips hovered over mine. “But you must do one thing for me.”
I frowned, waiting. Nerves sat in my stomach. He did not leave me wondering for long.
“Wed me.”
My mouth fell open with a gasp.