31. Chapter Thirty-One Siyala
Chapter Thirty-One: Siyala
Xander doesn’t move.
I don’t need my enhanced hearing to know that his heart beats erratically—I can feel the vibration of it beneath the hand on his chest—but his stillness spikes fear within me.
I pull back, just enough to look up at him through my lashes.
Enough to see the strained expression on his face.
Shit. This was a mistake. What was I even thinking?
I’ve never kissed anyone, not really. With Kenji, it had been forced, unwanted.
And I thought I could, what, seduce Xander?
With my limited experience? What a godsdamn failure—
Clothes hit the floor in a soft thump, and then Xander’s hands are in my hair and cupping my jaw as he draws me close again.
There’s a heartbeat of hesitation, just one, before he gently brings his mouth to mine.
For all the insecurity I felt with my own ability to kiss, Xander’s tentative movements make me wonder if perhaps he feels a little like he’s floundering too.
Never let anyone get close. Wasn’t that his third rule?
He angles my head a little deeper to the side, the warmth of his body pressing at my front in a way that makes our surroundings disappear.
The brush of his lips against mine is delicate, Xander’s body trembling beneath my hands.
I press my tongue along the seam of his lips, wondering if that is something he might like.
But then his mouth immediately opens in response, our tongues sliding against each other as a small whimper trickles up my throat.
The sound severs the cautious tether holding him back and his tongue moves like he’s desperate to taste every corner of my mouth.
Releasing his forearm, I lift higher onto my toes, my hand diving into his hair, the other pressing more firmly against his chest. But he doesn’t feel close enough, my animal agreeing as a small voice growls.
More. More. More. The thought drives my mouth to work harder, deeper, the kiss so intense I feel the strings of it tugging at my core, turning me completely pliable in his hands.
In response, Xander’s grip on me tightens as he pulls me against him, his legs shuffling backwards.
He grunts as metal scrapes against stone, and then we’re both falling, Xander’s ass hitting the cot before he tugs me into his lap.
Mouths separating, we stare at each other, a mix of shock and something warmer stirring in his gaze.
A new heartbeat pulses at the base of my spine, warmth rushing between my legs and up my sternum.
It begs me to move. To explore what the friction between our bodies might feel like if I just tipped my hips forward a little bit.
Gripping his undershirt with both hands, I draw him back in, finding no resistance this time as my tongue spears into his mouth.
I arch my back to press myself closer, and Xander emits a low sound that makes my animal purr again, undeniable heat surging through me.
This feeling isn’t what I expected because the last time someone else’s lips were pressed to my own—
“Siyala,” he breathes against my mouth, lips dragging over my jaw and down to my neck, his hands thoroughly entangling in my hair.
Reality eddies, and I feel lost, the crazed desire washing over me drowning out the panic that should rise at the sound of my true name.
But then his tongue flicks out, and he licks it up my neck slowly, growling in approval at the way I taste.
“Gods,” I whisper, ignoring the list of reasons why this is bad and, instead, succumbing to the ache that pools between my legs.
More. I need more. I need him to make me forget.
I need him to erase the past memories and the shame.
I need him— No. I gasp, this time in shock.
Stars above, what am I doing? I can’t need him.
I don’t need him. As if I’ve been doused in cold water, the reality of what I’m doing rushes in. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie.
The keys.
Shit. His fingers dig into my hips, and I instinctively roll them, and once more, I’m lost to the feel of him.
Groaning, I internally battle with my own stupid body as I slip one hand from his chest and around his side, sliding over his back and down towards the keys hanging from his belt.
He tenses but kisses me harder, and gods above, it nearly derails me.
Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie. My hand resumes, sliding over what feels like notches on the skin of his back beneath the shirt.
I’m nearly at his low back when Xander’s hand tugs gently on the roots of my hair.
I whimper, the sound coming from a deep place within me, my mind completely torn over trying to do what I need to and letting myself truly get lost in the soft feel of his lips.
The hard muscles of his chest. The way he smells and tastes like something that is so uniquely him that I just want more of it, if only to figure out what to call it.
My fingers brush the cold metal of the key ring, and the stark temperature of it against my heated skin refocuses me.
I don’t let myself think about being overtly deft with my extraction as I feel for the clasp and press it down, quickly unhooking it from the loop on his belt.
My elation soars as my tongue grazes his, and I roll my hips again.
For the briefest moment, I am suspended.
Not in the same way that we were in the tunnel, but in a way that is brand new.
That makes me wonder if being intimate has always held the capacity to feel this good. Or if it is because of him.
But those thoughts are pointless, and now that I have what I need, it’s time to enact the next part of my plan.
Breaking the kiss, I move to jump from his lap, except Xander’s hand is already grabbing my wrist, making the keys jingle loudly as they crash into each other.
The sound may as well be a death knell because, immediately, his expression changes, the lust that had clouded his gaze quickly clearing as his jaw snaps closed and his fingers curl around me more tightly.
I attempt to scurry away, but he’s too strong, and I’m forced to watch as he begins to piece together what I’ve done, the agony of it displayed briefly across his handsome face.
Desperate, I shoot a hand for the dagger strapped to his thigh.
He isn’t fast enough to stop me this time, and between one breath and the next, the blade is not at the strong column of his throat but at my own.
“What are you doing?” he asks, chest heaving, but the question rings hollow. He knows, and I hate the look of betrayal he gives me before he shuts his emotions down, invisible shields sliding back into place.
I reach for my own, but they feel flimsy now. Penetrable. Caught in the act and with nowhere to go, I do the only thing I can. I beg. “Please.”
“Please, what, Siyala?”
My eyelids flutter at the use of my name gritted out like poison between his teeth.
“That name is so much more fitting for you,” he muses, voice low as his breath cascades over my lips.
“I only wish I had learned it a different way.” His attention moves to the blade at my throat.
Cautiously, he stretches my arm out until the hand caught in his grasp and holding the keys is out to the side and away from our bodies.
His freehand rests on top of the cot, fingers tightly curled in. “Drop the dagger.”
“You need to let me go.”
His gaze narrows, and his grip flexes along my wrist. “How long were you planning to seduce me?” he asks, and I force myself to scoff.
“I did not seduce you—”
“When did you come up with this little plan to use me?” Something cruel plays along his face, darkening his eyes. “How far would you have gone if I let you? Would you have fucked me to get free?”
My lips part, and that ever-present shame that has made its home within me doubles in size, burning a path towards my heart.
“You speak as if you have not been withholding information. As if you haven’t tried to win me over with false kindness and pitying words, but I know who you are, Xander.
” His lip peels back from his teeth. “Just a guard, right? Just an unfortunate player in the king’s game?
You failed to mention that you are one of his godsdamn Trusted.
” His body tenses, the movement felt more than seen.
I loathe that I’m still on top of him, but until he decides to release me, I’m trapped.
My heart doubles its rhythm at the thought.
“How many times did you watch as the king beat her—”
“How many times did you?”
“And Alexi?” I continue, pressure building behind my eyes as his words dig beneath my skin.
“Did your pathetic self-interests allow you to stand by while he was murdered? What purpose have you been able to justify his death serving?” He doesn’t answer, though his chest lifts with quick breaths. “Did you even care?”
“Of course I did!” he shouts, startling me.
My hand gripping the blade shakes, and I can tell by the quick bite of pain at my neck that I’ve cut myself.
Xander drops his voice, as if he’s just remembered where we are.
“I have spent a lifetime forcing each and every choice into one of two boxes: which ones I can live with in order to serve the greater purpose of taking the king down and which ones are worth sacrificing everything for, and unfortunately for Alexi, I could live with his death. I could obey the king’s command to hold him in place as the sword was driven into his chest. I could live with the image and sound of Rhea screaming as she crawled through his blood to get to him.
” His eyes bounce between mine, feral and savage.
“You speak as if you’re better than I am, but we are both doing what it takes to survive.
” Faster than I can register, he shoves his freehand into the crook of my elbow and presses it away, forcing the dagger from my throat.
He pinches my wrist, the muscles spasming and causing my fingers to straighten.
The blade hits the ground, and then Xander is lifting me off of him, yanking the keys from my hand before dropping me onto the cot.
He gathers the dagger and is outside the cell in three full strides.
“Xander, wait—”
“Don’t.” He exits the cell and shuts the door, staring at me through the bars as he slides a key in and locks it.
“Never let anyone get close,” he murmurs, gaze raking over me in apathy.
Needing to mask my embarrassment, I snarl at him, but he’s already pivoting and heading towards the torture room.
“Xander!” The door slams closed, its echo loud against the stone. I drag my hands down my face and wiping the tears from my cheeks that I didn’t realize had fallen.
“You know,” Immie drawls, her voice both a welcomed reprieve and a slight surprise, “I haven’t seen that much action in a long time.”
“You didn’t see anything,” I retort around a sob, sliding to the ground and letting my shoulder lean against the bars.
“Which just goes to show you how long it’s been.” She chuckles, and I break into my own form of a laugh, one that weaves its way through the utter devastation I feel at messing up.
“I’m so sorry, Immie,” I say with a sniffle, gathering my knees to my chest and laying my cheek on top of them. “I wanted to help you.”
The murmuring of prisoners farther away reminds me that we aren’t alone, but what does it matter now?
Xander will never let me out of this cell again, and Immie…
I squeeze my eyes shut, fresh tears falling.
I’ll be forced to stand by while something awful is happening to someone I care about again.
I’m not enough—I’ll never be enough—to make a difference.
To draw the right attention. To be safe.
“Child, listen to me,” she says, her voice a bit louder, as if she has moved as close as possible to the bars.
“I have lived a very long life, and while most of it has been filled with a good amount of happiness, I’ve had my fair share of disappointment too.
Of times where I wondered what I was even doing here.
If my place mattered. And whenever I felt that way, I would always come to the same conclusion. ”
I swallow, wiping at my cheeks once more. “What?”
“That those moments were never put in my path to break me but to show me that I could be so much more. See, everyone thinks that failure is a weakness, but I’d argue it’s often our greatest teacher. Failure reveals much about ourselves, if we are willing to do the work of decoding it.”
I turn over her words, but I can’t find the truth in them. Or maybe I don’t want to. “What if I don’t want to decode it? What if I just want to sit in the failure because I think it is where I deserve to be?”
She gives a heavy sigh. “Then sit if you must, child, for a little bit. But remember, there is a difference between stopping to rest because we need it to regroup and just giving up.” Opening my eyes, I look down the hall to where Immie’s hand is sticking out past the iron bars.
“Your story is far from over. So do not give up.”
Hours pass, and I return to the cot, wide awake and curled on my side, when I hear the door at the top of the steps open.
Three heartbeats break the dungeon’s silence.