Chapter 17 #2
Arawn forced his gaze to remain calm and collected, as cool as the icy wind beyond the wall of windows, but he knew Ezer caught the aggression in them.
Help me, Vivorr.
Give me strength.
“I think it’s all the time spent in the outside, with our dear Raphonminder,” Kinlear said. For a moment, Arawn forgot what he’d even said aloud. He forgot where he was, forgot everything but the feeling of her eyes on him. “She has been quite healing for me, in more ways than one.”
Arawn felt his own gaze drop to Ezer’s lips, and he wondered...
But of course, Kinlear wouldn’t have made a move yet...would he?
Of course he would.
Kinlear had a long list of lovers, and the gods only knew how far he’d gone with each one of them. He cared not for penance.
Not when he was dying.
Not when he would never be Matched to anyone again. That hope had died with Soraya.
Ezer swallowed, as if there were something stuck in her throat.
And that distant, raging fire, the one that had remained unkindled for so many months now, began to burn deep in Arawn’s belly...until he had to shift his feet to try and clear away the ache of it.
“Not quite so healing for her,” Arawn said, as he noted a bruise upon Ezer’s delicate neck. Rage poked his insides like thorns. How dare his brother place her in danger? How dare the raphon mar her like the shadow wolves did? “What with the brutal injuries that Alaris must fix, time and again.”
Because even now, he knew she was covered with more bruises he could not see. The raphon was not gentle, and as it grew, the injuries and accidents would get worse.
He’d had a war eagle fledgling, once. He’d had every part of him broken, too.
...and because of that knowledge, he’d asked Alaris for every report about Ezer.
He’d paced in the halls when he knew she was inside the raphon’s cage...praying, begging the gods not to let the beast harm her.
Ezer was strong.
She did not need saving, not from him or any other man.
So why did every part of Arawn still want to keep her safe?
“The Raphonminder is strong,” Kinlear replied, as if he knew the thoughts brewing in Arawn’s mind.
Their eyes locked. Twin gazes, twin flames of rage.
An image of Soraya flashed in Arawn’s mind, and he shoved it deep down into that white castle again, where he locked up all his past pains. “She can handle it.”
That heat flared again in Arawn’s gut. It moved upwards, into his chest, into his heart where the core of his magic resided. Barely even a seed these days, and yet, when it came to her...
“May I remind you,” Arawn added, as he stepped a bit closer, not missing the way his brother’s hand tightened on Ezer’s arm, “that after she is done with you, she trains here, in the darkness, with me.”
Gods, why had he mentioned the darkness?
It felt sensual.
It felt like he was admitting how much he longed for her body against his in those silent moments. How every part of him was set ablaze.
Kinlear’s eyes flashed with carefully controlled rage. “Learning how to protect herself better than the last you took beneath your wing, I hope.”
Arawn couldn’t help himself.
His hand curled into a fist.
How dare he speak of that day. He hadn’t lived it. He hadn’t felt it. Not in Arawn’s way.
He was about to say that aloud, or perhaps let his fist speak for him, when Ezer stepped forward, releasing her grip on Kinlear’s arm.
And suddenly Arawn could breathe again.
“She,” Ezer said, “is standing right here. Between two brothers who refuse to forgive one another for a past that is neither of their faults. That lies with Soraya alone.”
Her name.
The sound of her name on Ezer’s tongue...
It broke something loose inside of him. The walls of his castle crumbled...he quickly built them back up again as he shifted, his gaze no longer on Kinlear.
“It’s the truth,” Ezer said. “And telling it is what Sacred do.”
“Forgive me,” Arawn said, clearing his throat. This was like war, indeed. A careful dance. A balance of knowing when to stifle the rage...and when to release it. “I...don’t know what came over me.”
Kinlear, to his credit, sighed in the very dramatic way he always did, and reached out as a servant skirted past. His gloved hands curled over two goblets. One for himself, and one for Ezer...
Who did not know the power of such a drink.
Who did not know how it could make even a careful, controlled Crown Prince feel weak in the knees.
Or perhaps that was entirely her, as her eyes landed back upon him.
“It’s the winterwine,” Kinlear said. “It takes the limits off. Makes the walls we usually have...come crumbling down.” He looked to Ezer, and something in his features shifted, when he realized she was not looking at him.
No, her gaze was upon Arawn now.
He could feel it like a knife, boring into him.
He welcomed the pain.
He dared her to cut through the layers of hardened ice he’d stacked carefully around his heart...every piece of it already melting, because of her.
Gods, it felt so good when she looked at him.
No one ever had...not like this.
Kinlear sighed again. “I’ve suddenly discovered I have somewhere else to be. Anywhere, really.”
And because he was Kinlear Laroux, because he knew the way Arawn worked...
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ezer’s cheek. She sucked in a breath, as if she were surprised at his touch.
It doesn’t matter, Arawn told himself. She isn’t yours.
But it was Absolution.
And maybe, just for tonight...
She could be.
They danced.
And he decided he’d never loved dancing more.
He held her in his arms.
And he decided he’d never held anything so sweet.
Every part of him was nearly set ablaze, a match ready to strike. The tension, the pressure that built inside of him...
Arawn was a dam, ready to burst.
The longer they danced, the further he fell. Into her gaze, into her scent, into the shape of her body against his. She fit perfectly, like she was made for him, designed not only to pleasure him but to torture him, day after day and night after night.
The winterwine did nothing to help as he drowned in her. As they spun across the dance floor, and the world beyond the windows, the war and the shadowstorm, the Sacred and the darksouls...they all melted away.
There was nothing but her.
Nothing but him.
Nothing but this moment and this dance.
Arawn spun her, taking charge the way he’d done so many times in this very training room. But this felt different.
This felt like she was giving him permission to hold her. Like there was no one else that mattered to her but him.
Like she wanted him to drink her in until he drowned.
He could stay here for the rest of his life. He would happily be her prisoner, the way she had his heart wrapped up in chains.
But then he dipped her, and the song shifted, and in a flashing moment of silence, he saw Kinlear across the dance floor.
That gaze...a mirror to his own. A sobering reminder of the truth.
She was not his.
And she never would be.
He lowered her into a dip, holding her closely, desperate not to let this moment fade.
And then she was speaking to him again. “What will you do tonight, Firemage?”
He melted when she called him that.
“I...” He swallowed. He shouldn’t say it.
But the winterwine had made him brave like he once was.
So, he did. “I will stay up later than I should.” He lifted her, spinning her in his arms as the music changed.
“Most likely, I’ll send every lackluster thought I have towards you until I bore you to sleep, and the speaking stone goes cold. ”
Dangerous words.
They were the admitting kind.
She placed her hand on his chest, over his swiftly beating heart. His pulse hammered against her palm, and this was his chance, this was his opening, for she wanted him. He could feel it, suddenly. He could sense it in the way her own pulse was hammering, too, in how her gaze dropped to his lips.
She wanted him...right now.
He could kiss her.
He could let her claim him, let her taste him, let her show everyone in this godsdamned room that Arawn Laroux would happily bend a knee to her and worship her lips, her body, her—
Forbidden.
The word slammed into his skull like a warning.
This will end in nothing but pain.
Nothing but death.
“How is Six treating you?” He blurted, because his eyes were betraying him, too.
They were roving all across her skin, tasting her when his lips could not, and that hunger rose within him again, and it would not be sated with just one kiss.
He knew if he took the plunge...he wouldn’t be strong enough to stop it.
No, Ezer would claim him for an eternity if he dared take one more step.
So, he didn’t.
And it pained him more than any blade, any betrayal, ever could.