24. Chapter Twenty-Four Rhea
Chapter Twenty-Four: Rhea
T he sun reaches its highest point in the sky when Flynn knocks. I take one last look down at my light purple dress, the built-in corset traveling around my subtle curves and flowing out into a long skirt that nearly touches the tops of my feet. The sleeves are billowy and land just above my elbow. The dress is delicate and pretty and so out of place for me to wear in a stone prison. Tucking my unbound hair behind my ears, I take a deep breath and walk to the door.
There is a slight creak as it opens and reveals Flynn standing on the landing. My next inhale gets stuck in my throat, my heart pounding like a drum as I take him in. He isn’t wearing his guard uniform today—though he did opt for black trousers tucked into brown boots that go to his calf. A form-fitting dark green tunic draws my gaze, the golden tan pigment of his skin glowing against the rich color. The laces of the tunic at his neck are loosened enough that the skin of his chest peeks through. My mouth dries and swallowing becomes momentarily difficult as I tilt my head the rest of the way up to look at him. I watch as his gaze traces a searing line down my body. The survey is quick, his eyes back to mine in a flash, but the heat left in the wake of his perusal burns me from the inside out.
“You look beautiful, Rhea,” he says, his deep voice rasping.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I dip my chin in thanks. I nearly respond with so do you but luckily stop myself in time. He extends a hand out to me that I hadn’t realized was behind his back, a single flower in his grasp. The beautiful rose is perfectly bloomed, its petals a perfect pink and stem the most vibrant green.
“Thank you,” I say shyly, taken aback by his kindness and… well, just him . Our fingers brush in a whisper of contact when he passes me the flower. Those incredibly soft-looking lips of his beam back at me, his handsome face lighting up with the movement. I nearly feel disoriented as I step back and let him in.
“Did you miss me?” As usual, his steps are graceful, his body laden with power as he walks through the threshold and into the tower. For someone as broad and tall as he is, he moves like a man half the size. It reminds me of the warriors I’ve read about and how they’ve honed their bodies to be perfect weapons.
I bite back a smile, rolling my eyes as he watches. “Did I miss you prattling on about how handsome you are? Hmm, I’m not sure.” I tap my chin, feigning indecision.
“Notice you said how handsome I am, are you confirming what we both know?” His raven hair touches the tops of his brows, and I wonder for a moment if those few rebellious strands represent a side to Flynn that I have yet to see fully. It’s physically torturous to stop my hand from ruffling through his locks as I walk to grab a small glass jar by the sink for my rose.
“You may pull from that whatever you need to hear,” I remark with my back to him as I set my gifted flower on the tea table. His chuckle is luxurious, a heady sound that promises fantasies I have no business entertaining. He is forbidden in every way, I remind myself.
“So, what have you planned for us?” he asks, thankfully changing the subject. Bella walks over to him and leans her head in on his lower stomach, searching for pets while I stare at Flynn.
“What?” I squeak out, my heart picking up speed as panic sets in. I was supposed to plan something? Did I misunderstand what he had meant in the letter? Stars above, am I expected to have this whole day planned out? What can we even do here?
Flynn’s laugh draws me from my thoughts as he steps forward. “Your cheeks are so red right now,” he teases with a smirk. He rubs Bella’s head before his affectionate eyes find mine. “I was just hoping we could read together.”
Was that vulnerability in his voice? It is impossible for me to believe that this usually confident and magnetic man would feel self-conscious about anything . Let alone wondering if a woman stuck in a tower wants to read with him. Not just a regular girl. His words repeat in my mind. Huffing out a sigh of relief, I playfully roll my eyes to hide my embarrassment. Still, my nerves are simmering beneath the surface. Above all else, I really want Flynn to like me, and that leaves me feeling even more anxious than before.
“Do you want the official tour?” I question, waving my hand towards the room. His lips widen into a full smile, one that I find completely unfair. It’s unfair to be that handsome and kind and funny and— Get it together, Rhea.
“Lead the way, Sunshine.”
“We really need to talk about that nickname.”
“Do you not like it?” he questions, studying me as we walk, his gaze burning into the side of my face.
“I just don’t understand it. Why ‘Sunshine’?” We enter the library through the arched doorway, and any response that may have been on the tip of his tongue vanishes as he gawks at the space. A strange feeling of pride bubbles inside of me while I watch him walk along the edges of the crescent-shaped room, eyeing the different titles that line the shelves. Bella curls up in a sunny spot on the floor in front of the bench and rests her head on her crossed paws.
“Can you even reach the ones up here?” He stretches an arm overhead and grabs a book from the very top shelf. That constricting feeling in my throat returns as I watch him. I’m feeling both flushed and somewhat jealous.
“No, but I always viewed it as a sort of prize to be won. Like once I finish all the books I can reach, the top rows are my consolation,” I say as I take a seat on the bench by the window. The light and heat of the sun bathes the room in a beautiful brilliance, no nook or cranny left untouched by its rays.
“You can’t be anywhere close to reading all the books here, can you?” he asks, looking around.
I shrug, leaning back and placing my hands behind me. “I used to think I’d never read all the books in here before I died. But reading is often the only thing that distracts me for a long time, and it’s all I really have to do besides cleaning and exercising.” I don’t mean to babble, but my nervousness at having him here in this space outweighs my logic. “Anyway, do you like to read?”
He nods, hands clasped behind him as he browses the different titles. “I do. The library back home is massive and one of my favorite places to be when I’m able to get back there to visit.”
“When was the last time you went home?”
He picks a book off the shelf, a small smile curving his lips as he flips through the pages. “About a year ago.”
My eyes widen at the admission. That is such a long time to go without seeing family. “What made you decide to join the King’s Guard?”
“This should count as part of our question game since I already owe you three,” he says, still holding onto the book and coming to take a seat next to me. I bump his shoulder with mine, a movement he chuckles at before leaning back to mirror my position. “I love my family and would do anything for them. Joining the King’s Guard was something I did for them, to help.” His head leans back to look at the ceiling as he takes a deep breath, the longer top strands of his dark hair shifting with the movement.
I can’t help but trace his face with my eyes, moving down to the strong column of his throat and then to his chest. My fingers grip the fabric of the bench as my heart pounds a little faster. He peers at me from the corner of his eye, making me stop my visual assault and instead reach for the book he chose. I flip it over and groan when I read the title.
“Are you kidding me?” I deadpan, letting it dangle from my hand like I find it offensive.
“What?” he questions, sitting up and running a hand through his hair to move the strands back in place.
What is it about his hair that I can’t ignore? What a weird thing to constantly notice. “This book. It’s one Bella picked out for me to read once. Then she promptly fell asleep from how boring it was.” I turn to the first page of The History Of The Five Realms and snort again, the memory of Bella snoring away while I read playing in my mind.
“One, how did Bella pick a book out? Two, are you not a fan of history tomes?” His decadent laugh coaxes warm feelings from inside me as he takes the book back and lays it on his lap.
“She sort of tapped it with her nose,” I reply, smiling at the memory. “And I’m more of a romance reader.” Reaching back farther on the bench, I grab my current romance read before handing it to him.
“ Three Roses In the Wind ,” he reads out slowly, before giving me a skeptical look.
“What? I get lonely up here and these books make me feel less so. I enjoy reading about how lovers meet and what they do together and—” Flynn starts coughing, a fist coming to his mouth as he turns away from me. “Are you okay?” I ask, leaning forward slightly to see him. When he regains his composure, he looks at me with that heated sort of gaze he had from the other night. The type of gaze I have definitely read about in a romance book. It makes my toes curl.
“Yep. Yes, I’m fine. Tell me more about these books.”
My eyes narrow as I watch him smile a little too innocently at me. I yank the book from his hand—his laughter filling the library—and grab the book Tienne and Erica gave me instead. “I’ve also been reading this one, and while it does have a little romance in it, it’s mostly quests and battles.” He hesitates for a moment before taking the book from me and tracing the lettering on the cover. I recognize it as an intimate touch I’ve always done with certain books that are my favorite.
“Do you like this one?” he asks quietly, looking over at me. His tone stirs something within me, like it’s telling me this book might be important to him—meaningful in a way I don’t quite understand.
“I do,” I answer, leaning in a little closer. “Have you read it?”
He nods before opening up to the page I have bookmarked, smiling when he sees where I’m at in the story. “Would you want to read the rest together?” he offers.
The look he’s giving me and the tension surrounding us combines inside me, creating feelings I don’t know how to name or even what to do with. I don’t know why that question catches me so off guard either. I’ve never shared a book with anyone before, and it feels far more personal than I think it should. But reading is everything to me—it’s entertainment and escape and freedom through others’ stories. And sharing that with Flynn makes those butterflies reappear in my stomach. My magic warms and hums inside me, the feeling of it tingling down into my fingers and toes. I nod my head and scoot back on the bench until my back is leaning against the stone wall lining it. Flynn kicks off his boots and does the same on the other side.
Our eyes meet, time standing still for a moment as we study each other. I wish I could ask him why he looks at me as if I’m the reason the flowers bloom. My knees draw into my chest and my cheek rests on top as I listen to him start to read, the energy between us comfortable—sweet even. His voice is soothing, and I swear I feel it soften some of the jagged pieces that lay shattered within me. Another layer of that heavy, oppressive ice melts away inside me.
Flynn leaves a few hours later. We finished the book quickly, taking turns reading chapters and talking over our favorite moments and characters. It might have been the most fun I’ve ever had, and I find it unbelievable that it happened within the confines of the tower.
When I asked Flynn how he is able to come in and out of the tower without anyone noticing, he told me that, apparently, there is a door at the very bottom that opens out to the meadows below. He said that he can walk under the bridge undetected and right to that door. He also said there is a pathway that leads from the bridge to the front of the castle and from there to a road that leads to the city of Vitour. It’s a valuable piece of information, and I tuck it away in my mind, even if guilt flickers there for doing so.
The last thing Flynn said before leaving was that he had a surprise for me tomorrow night.
Candles line the tower floor, the flickering shadows of the flames on the stone walls sensuous in their motions. I’m standing in the middle of the living area when movement on the balcony catches my eye. I head towards the open doors, the night sky above filled with sparkling stars. The moon is completely full, its glow bathing the tall figure and causing his dark hair to shimmer in its silver light.
Flynn.
He turns around when I step out onto the balcony and leans back, his elbows resting on the railing as his eyes drag slowly down my body. I’m still for only a moment, letting his gaze paint over me in provocative strokes. My body then moves before I consciously command it to, my bare feet near silent as I step closer and closer. Flynn’s eyes burn like smoldering coals as our breaths fall in sync. He watches me with a hunger that tightens his body and makes my own become more loose. I want him. I want him so badly my mouth practically waters.
He stands up to his full height but keeps his hands gripped on the balcony railing. His black clothing and tan skin stand out against the white stone at his back; his fingers holding it so tightly I wonder if he’s trying to restrain himself. My hands come to his shoulders before I slide them down slowly over his chest, my fingers gripping his tunic there as I tilt my head up to look at him. He moves his chin down, his eyes only leaving mine to linger on my mouth. I lean fully into him, molding into each divot and plane perfectly. It is a fitting of two bodies in a way that feels like fate—like it was always meant to be. Rising onto my tiptoes, I hold him for balance and bring my face as close to his as possible.
Our breath becomes mingled, our noses barely touching, but he keeps his grip onto the railing. I’m done waiting, though, so I drag a hand up to his neck, fingertips gently pushing into his muscles, until I wrap them around the back of it. Feeling the tickle of his hair there, I curl my fingers, nails digging into his skin lightly. And I’m not sure who moves first, but our lips crash together in a sea of lushness and desire. He groans, the sound deep and intoxicating, as it unravels me from within. Our tongues meet, the feel of them sliding against each other heightening my arousal as I grow more slick between my legs, my body aflame with a yearning I’ve never felt before.
Finally, his hands leave the railing to come to my sides, yanking me even closer to him. They slide down my body slowly as we kiss, his taste and scent sending me into a frenzy as I grip onto him harder. When his own fingers graze the curve of my backside, I whimper, but Flynn doesn’t stop. He grips the flesh there as his mouth leaves mine to place desperate kisses down my jaw and neck. It feels like he is everywhere and still, I need more. I let go of his tunic and slide my hand down his chest, down his firm abdomen, past the waistband of his trousers, stopping when I reach the outline of his—
My eyes open suddenly, the dream fading away until all I see is the ceiling of my tower. I inhale deeply through my mouth, still feeling that intense yearning despite being completely awake. That was my first ever dream like that.
“Holy gods,” I whisper into the night as I squeeze my thighs together, surprise growing at the slickness between them. A burning desire to use my hand on myself to relieve the aching I still feel ignites within me, but then Bella’s soft snores by my side quickly douse that flame. Still, when I close my eyes, all I see is the heat in Flynn’s gaze. All I hear is the sound of his hungry groan. And all I feel are his hands gripping me in places no one ever has before. It takes a while for sleep to find me again.
Bella and I spent the morning watching the sun rise on the balcony. The sky paints the land in gold and light blue while the warm breeze brings the scent of the flowers at the base of the tower with it. When the sun fully crests the horizon I come inside to draw a bath, leaving Bella outside. I managed to get some sleep last night, but while I didn’t have another sensual dream, the desire still lingers on the edges of my mind, like an oath unfulfilled.
My fingers drag lazily across my abdomen, goosebumps rising in their wake under the water. Looking over the edge of the tub, I confirm that Bella hasn’t come upstairs before sliding further into the water, my hand moving closer to that aching spot at my core. When the tip of my finger reaches the bundle of nerves there, I gasp at how sensitive it already is. My thighs squeeze together as I begin to circle, a languid feeling unraveling and moving up from my toes. As my mind starts replaying moments of the dream, I am reminded of the way it felt to have Flynn’s body so close to mine. The way his mouth collided with my own as our tongues met in the middle. I bite down on my lower lip to stifle a moan, my hand moving quicker as I reach the brink of an orgasm faster than I ever have before. The memory of the dream morphs into my last visit with Flynn. It’s not overtly sexual—just him sitting across from me, looking with rapt interest as he usually does—but it’s enough. I gasp for breath as that tension builds and builds until it bursts open, my release barreling through me so intensely that I have to cover my mouth with my other hand. I keep my finger moving in those tight circles through the wave, my hips jerking in tandem.
I wait for that moment after an orgasm where my body feels sated and relaxed, but it doesn’t come. Instead, my finger keeps moving, and I slide my hand down from my mouth to gently circle over my nipple, causing it to peak under my touch. New fantasies flood my mind filled with images of him kneeling at the edge of the tub, replacing my delicate hands with his larger, calloused ones. A breathy moan, as quiet as I can keep it, leaves me as I bring myself back to that teetering edge again. All because of him—his hands and his mouth and that smirk and his hair. But it’s also his kindness and humor and the way he looks at me like I’m someone of value. Not just a regular girl. I shudder, the coiling tension finally releasing, leaving me feeling boneless.
I relax again into the tub, letting the feel of the warm water calm my quickened heart. My magic pushes on my stomach and at the base of my spine as its warmth travels through my arms and legs. I haven’t called on it since that fateful night, but the urge to do so now is nearly overwhelming. Lifting a hand out of the water, my palm facing up, I close my eyes and concentrate on directing the magic. Even with my lids closed, I can see the glowing white light there within seconds. I open my eyes and move my hand closer to me as I feel the staticky warmth tickling my fingers and palm. It lights up the gray stone around me, turning it into something completely different, something warm and bright.
I wonder if using my magic, even in this capacity, is something I should try to do more often. There is a sense of relief after using it, but I’m unsure if it’s my own feeling or the magic’s. Can magic even have feelings? It’s one of the many questions I have about this ability , if I can call it that. Where did it come from? What else can it do? Is it alive? Knowing? Sentient? Can it be honed into something more ? Which makes me wonder why I sometimes feel that ancient, dark coldness mixed in with the light. Is that magic as well? I think a part of me hopes that it is, if only to explain away why I sometimes feel so other when it curls and coils within me. And if it isn’t magic, is it the consequence of boxing up my feelings and shoving them down within me? Did I accidentally create something in the dark abyss of my grief and sadness that mirrored the way I felt? And if I did , how do I make it go away ?