41. Withering
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Withering
It took me a moment to take in his abrupt response. I opened and closed my mouth, at a loss for words.
Then anger swelled forth. He dared to tell me ‘no’.
“You are a moody, cruel bastard, Cassiel Draven.”
My words whipped through the chamber like a lash. His eyebrows shot up toward his forehead.
“After everything,” I began, setting the journal on the edge of the bed. I slowly approached. “You continue to decree?” I reached his side. “After all you have done to me?”
His lids slit open, fury angling at me.
“Angry?” I spat. “Well, in your weakened state, you cannot stop me.” I threw myself on top of him. His eyes widened. With a firm grip on his shoulders, I lowered my mouth to his skin.
His hand closed around my neck, and he pulled me back with a forceful yank. I hovered a finger’s length from his mouth. I panted, my knees digging into the mattress.
“No.”
His heated stare spat anger, yet his grip remained both firm and gentle. His arm stretched beside my cheek. I lunged to sink my teeth into his skin. Pinches stung my scalp as Cassiel wound his hand into my unbound hair.
“Damned redblood, listen!” I fixed him with a hard look, hovering on the verge of discomfort.
“No,” I bit out.
His lips twitched down at the corners. Panic filled his face. It shuttered over quickly, and his expression smoothed.
“I will have to make you then,” he leaned close and captured my lips in a kiss.
His tongue swept into my mouth, plunging with force.
I placed my palms on his chest and my thumb collided with the thick liquid dripping from his sternum.
Desire always hovered on the surface with us, but I could not let his mouth confuse me.
I was unsure if biting his tongue would complete the bond, but it was worth a try.
My tongue barely managed to graze his when he pulled back, his fang slicing my bottom lip. Red tinted his mouth.
He deflected with cruelty or with his body—whichever kept him from having to speak. He’d done both in the span of heartbeats.
I do not know how to express what I feel . . .
His words from the fog came to mind. All of his behavior clearly showed how inept he was with feelings.
We stared into each other’s eyes. My mind raced with understanding. His mother had abandoned him as a boy. Then he was found by Vaner in whatever body he wore, and he had honed Cassiel into who and what he was.
For someone who valued strength, could he blame me for his deterioration? Was that why he refused?
“You will not use your tactics to change the conversation,” I said, a bit breathless from the kiss. “Tell me the truth. How long have you seen the effects of the withering?”
A beat of silence, then, “A while.”
“And you said nothing?” I scoffed. He refused to look at me. “Do you resent me for how I have weakened you?”
He drew back as if I had struck him. “You foolish girl.” He glanced away, and he exhaled in a harsh gust. “It is . . .” he trailed off and cleared his throat. His hand fell off my shoulder and rested on my waist. His nostrils flared with an exhale.
I remained silent, watching him expectantly.
“Do you care for me?” he asked abruptly.
The breath in my throat halted. I focused on the pulsing where the red and gold met in his eyes as I closed my mouth to try to speak again, but nothing came out. My chest felt tight and my face stiff. I did not know how to respond.
“I . . .”
His lips curled with distaste. “Do you believe I love you?”
This question stunned me even more. Love? When had I considered love? I had loved few things in my life, and every single one I had lost. My family, Miriam, Piper . . .
My mind raced as I deflated, sitting back on his thigh. What were these questions? I swallowed and let out a steadying breath.
“It is not that I doubt your care for me,” I said carefully. But love?
He nodded as if his point had been proven, but I was terribly confused.
“I will not have you claim me. Not until I have your forgiveness.”
“You said it did not matter to you.” I shook my head, so lost. “You knew what this was.”
A cord in his neck drew tight with the lift of his chin.
“I want you to greet me how Archer’s woman greets him. To speak to me as you speak to all.” He glanced away, his eyebrows furrowed, then met my eyes before turning from me again. “I am encountering this jealousy writhing inside me. Searing, agonizing jealousy.” The muscle in his cheek jumped.
His words left me mute and so terribly confused by the turn in the conversation. He had said himself that he did not care for what I felt for him.
“I do not know what to say.” For once, I struggled to articulate my thoughts because I did not know what to think.
“As for those distraction ‘tactics’ you mentioned. I would rather fuck you than speak,” he said harshly. I flinched, but he took hold of my chin, forcing my head up. “Because it is the only time I do not feel your loathing,” he choked out. “So, no,” he snarled. “You will not claim me.”
“Wh-what do you mean feel?” I whispered.
“Exactly what I said.”
“Y-you feel my emotions?” He continued to just stare at me grimly. “That is not possible.” Blood drained from my face.
Piper received brief flares of my stronger emotions, but I had not even considered it was something Cassiel also felt.
My focus trailed to where I placed the grimoire.
I had only read up to where it told me how to complete the Elysian bond.
If he felt my emotions, it had to be some odd effect of him taking my wraithling’s place. To him tethering me to life.
Panic had a hold on my throat. The blackened flesh at his breastbone oozed, as if ink had been dribbled upon it. His declaration had awed me, but with his illness within view, guilt remained.
His lids slowly fell, and he groaned, leaning his head back. I could not allow him to sit in pain. I leaned forward, intent on sinking my teeth into his shoulder. Before I bit, he caught me by the neck.
“You never listen,” he hissed. Gritting his teeth, he lifted. More black liquid leaked from the cleave at his chest.
“What are you doing?”
He pushed me onto my back. I fell with a gasp. Before I could move, he pinned me. With the effort he made, his chest only leaked more as he straddled my waist.
“Cassiel! Get off.”
He was already a pale man, but he had become alabaster, and still he did not retreat. He reached for the edge of the cotton sheet under us. A loud tearing sound echoed.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t leave me wondering for long. He forced the piece of cotton around my wrists, fastening them tightly together.
“What are you—Cassiel!”
He stretched over my head, forcing my arms to follow. I yanked at the bindings, but he had bound it tight, and his grip didn’t allow it to give. He stretched further. With quick yanks, he knotted the other end through the metal slat of the bed frame. I eyed the intricate knot.
“You are ignoring a vital part, Cassiel, if you continue to be in this state, if it progresses enough to kill you, I will follow because of the wraithling bond.”
He grunted, not slowing, obviously having thought of that.
“We will discuss this at a later time with clearer minds. Do not attempt anything. I will feel you move.” He pushed up, hovering over me.
His strained features softening. “You always aim to save everyone. This time, you will not save me. I am your bondmate, and I will protect you. Even from myself.” He left me breathing in his sweet breath.
He pushed up with grunts and groans as he positioned himself at the head of the bed, hissing as he favored his side. “I just need rest.” He reached over and grabbed my ankle, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles.
As I tried to move, the bed squealed. With little scoots, I dragged myself closer to the knot. No matter how I touched and moved it, I could not slide my finger into it. I toiled for a long while until exhaustion from holding my arms over my head burned my limbs.
I stopped trying.
Cassiel’s soft chuckle left me seething and a mess, reeling over the trembling in my belly.