Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Iwake tangled in lavender-scented sheets, sunlight already streaming through the window. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.
Elvarstyne Keep.
The dreams are getting worse. Ever since Garrett hung me from those chains and dragged that humiliating release from my body, I can’t stop replaying the goddamn moment. I keep feeling the ghost of his touch and the way he wrapped his hand around my cock.
In my sleep, I’m back in his room, but this time I’m not chained. This time I’m the one pushing Garrett against the stone wall, biting that smug mouth until he bleeds, making him gasp my name instead of mocking me.
I wake hard and furious with myself.
What is happening to me? I have never found males attractive.
This is Garrett’s fault. He did this to me. Before that night, I was fine and focused. Now my thoughts spiral into weird places. It’s all because he decided to play his twisted games with me.
I drag myself out of bed and dress quickly, buckling on my weapons. The routine should center me, but it doesn’t. My mind keeps drifting back to the sound Garrett made when he came apart in my dream, the way his breath hitched.
Fuck.
I need to get my head straight. This distraction could get one of us killed. I refuse to fail another contract because I can’t keep my cock under control.
Morning light streams through my window. I’ve overslept by hours. Another failure to add to my growing list.
I splash water on my face from the basin, trying to wash away the lingering images from my dreams. It doesn’t work. Nothing works. Garrett has gotten under my skin like poison, and I don’t know how to cut him out.
When I finally make it outside, the sun is already climbing toward midday. I’m late. Garrett is in the training yard. I stop in the shadow of the keep’s eastern wall to watch him.
The ground is empty except for him. I can see every muscle shift beneath the fabric as he flows through sword forms. The blade in his hand sings with each arc and thrust. His hair has come loose from its tie, falling across his face in golden waves that make my fingers itch to brush them back.
I shouldn’t be thinking about his hair.
Or the way his throat works when he tilts his head back to catch his breath.
Or the flex of his forearms as he adjusts his grip on the sword hilt.
Or how it would feel to have those hands on me again.
My jaw clenches. This is exactly the problem. I can’t look at him without my thoughts turning filthy. I keep imagining what sounds he’d make if I pushed him against the wall and put my mouth on him.
I blame him for this. Fuck him for making me compromised, distracted, and useless. I have to look away before my body betrays me further.
A servant passes nearby, giving me a wide berth. They all do. I am a Grimsbane assassin from Tiamat.
I watch Garrett complete another form, this one faster and more aggressive. He’s testing himself, pushing his limits. There’s a precision to his movements that speaks of decades or centuries of training.
When I look again, he has stopped. He’s watching me, sword lowered. A knowing smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
Caught.
“Enjoying the show?” he calls out.
I step from the shadows, keeping my expression flat. “You’re predictable. It’s the same forms every morning.”
“Predictable?” He laughs, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm. “That’s rich coming from someone who’s been standing in the exact same spot for the past ten minutes.”
Bastard noticed me immediately.
“It’s a liability,” I say, ignoring his jab.
“Noted.” He sheathes his sword and crosses the yard toward me. He always stands too close now. “Since it’s my day off and you’ve finally decided to wake up, join me for lunch.”
“I should check the perimeter.” I don’t meet his eyes.
“The perimeter has been fine for two weeks. It’ll survive another few hours.” He starts walking toward the keep. “Besides, you need to eat. You’re no good to me if you collapse from hunger.”
“I need to conceal—” I stop. I was about to say I must hide my identity and I can’t take off my mask. Then I remember today I’m wearing the day mask. It covers the upper half of my face, leaving my jaw and mouth exposed.
Shit.
Garrett notices my hesitation and smirks. “Exactly. You can eat just fine.”
I fall into step beside him, hating how easily I obey. I hate even more how my pulse quickens when his arm brushes mine.
The keep’s gardens surround us as we walk, meticulously maintained by a staff I rarely see. Roses climb the stone walls, their blooms heavy and sweet-smelling. It’s so different from Tiamat’s poisoned air and dead vegetation. Here, things actually grow.
“You woke up late,” Garrett observes. “Bad dreams?”
I glance at him sharply. He’s watching me with that infuriating knowing look.
“I’m fine.”
“Right.” He doesn’t believe me. “You know, if something’s bothering you, you could just tell me.”
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
We walk back through the keep in silence, and my thoughts spiral again. Of course I’m not fine. He tied me up and jerked me off like it was nothing. Now I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s distracting, dangerous, and completely unacceptable for someone in my position.
And Garrett knows it.
I can see it in the way he glances at me sidelong, that hint of satisfaction in his expression.
Bastard.
I want revenge for this. For what he’s done to my focus, my control.
I study the soaring architecture of Elvarstyne Keep instead to avoid looking at him. It’s smaller than I expected for a house of Noble Aldarelf’s standing. Modest really, compared to the other elven estates I’ve seen in Aelfheim. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in elegance.
The malachite crystals that power the keep cast everything in a soft, verdant glow.
They’re almost everywhere, embedded in the walls, hanging in massive chandeliers, humming softly in the pipes that bring hot water to the baths.
The crystals are worth a fortune, mined from deep in the Darvan Mountains.
They’re part of why the elves and dwarves went to war decades ago.
Blood was spilled over these glowing rocks, enough to fill rivers.
We pass through the entrance hall where servants pause in their work to bow to Garrett. He acknowledges them with easy familiarity and greets them by name. They look at me with barely concealed fear. We pass the main hall where a massive portrait dominates one wall.
The Clayborne family, painted years ago.
Lord Clayborne stands tall and severe, his hand on the shoulder of a young man who must be Garrett’s older brother, the one who died.
Garrett stands on the other side, younger but already carrying that same intensity in his eyes.
Lady Clayborne sits in front, elegant and warm.
I’ve barely seen Lord Clayborne since I arrived. He’s always locked in his study or traveling to court. The soft-spoken Lady Clayborne avoids me entirely. I caught her staring once and she nearly fainted at the sight of my Grimsbane mask.
Garrett is the sole heir to all of this now. The keep, the lands, the title. One day he’ll be Lord Clayborne, one of the Aldarelfs in Aelfheim’s Elven Council.
“I’ll bathe first,” Garrett says when we reach his chambers. “Then we’ll head out.”
He starts unbuttoning his shirt. I should look away. Instead, I watch as he peels the sweat-soaked fabric from his skin, revealing the planes of his back, the slope of his shoulders. There’s a scar running along his ribs, pale against his skin. I want to trace it with my fingers and my tongue.
Stop it.
I curse under my breath and turn toward the window, gripping the sill hard enough that my knuckles go white.
This is his fault. All of it.
Behind me, I hear him chuckle softly before the door to the bathing room closes.
The sound of running water fills the silence.
I force myself to focus on the view outside.
The keep’s grounds stretch out below, green and perfectly maintained.
In the distance, I can see the city of Aelfheim proper, its towers rising toward the sky.
I think of Kitty and Shade, somewhere in this kingdom fulfilling their own missions.
Kitty is probably in some lord’s bed by now, gathering information the way the Gilded Lily taught her.
The thought makes my stomach turn. She deserves better than that life, better than being property that can be bought and sold.
But she’s smart and ruthless. If anyone can survive this game, it’s her.
Shade worries me more. He’s guarding Queen Rhianelle Wiolant.
Every day he doesn’t kill her is a victory.
I don’t know how long he can hold out. The need for revenge burns in him like a fever.
I’ve seen it in his eyes during our training sessions, the way his hands shake when someone mentions the Wiolant name.
I promised Kitty I’d watch out for him, but I’m here and he’s at the royal court. All I can do is hope his hatred for the Wiolants is weaker than his love for his mother.
I hear him step out. The sound of him dressing fills the silence. I force myself to stare at the wall.
“Did you have your knee checked yesterday?” I hear him moving around, getting dressed. “You promised you’d go.”
“Yes.” The word comes out clipped. This is another thing that baffles me. He’s spending a fortune on Hlaryan healers to fix some broken assassin’s leg. In fact he personally escorts me to the temple on some days. I don’t understand why he bothers. Guild assassins are disposable.
We leave the keep and head into the city. The streets of Aelfheim are crowded with afternoon commerce. Elves move through the markets with unhurried grace. They part for Garrett without thinking, offering respectful nods and warm smiles.
I trail behind him like I’m supposed to, keeping watch as I survey the faces and rooftops. But I’m also watching him. The way sunlight catches in his golden hair, the easy confidence in his stride.