Chapter Eighteen #2
I finally had no choice but to turn around or risk her asking why I remained motionless, staring at the wall. I kept my eyes trained on the sloping stone as I stepped into the water, denying the urge to seek her out.
The liquid closed around me, cold and grounding. Not enough to relieve the aching throb between my legs, but enough to let me breathe.
There was a splash behind me and I turned, not realizing I’d passed Taryn.
She still stood in the shallows, the pool only coming to her hips.
She’d released her hair from the coil she kept it in atop her head, the yellow strands hanging down to the center of her back as she swept them over her shoulders.
The water had darkened them, but they would never be anything like my people’s deep colors.
The light from the moss did nothing to hide her kethra, the teal lines pulsing faintly.
Was it from relief at the feel of the water?
Appreciation for the private pool?
Or the look she gave me over her shoulder?
My breath caught and my shaft pulsed, kethra flaring. I couldn’t help it, and it was becoming a problem.
She reached for the basket of cleansing powder, scooping a handful to work into her hair. Raising her hands to her head lifted her breasts, the mounds swaying with her motions.
I forced myself to turn away, but it was too late. The image was already burned into my mind, creating urges I had no right to indulge. Even if I was supposed to claim her, even if I had to knot her to do it and she’d agreed, it didn’t mean she wanted me outside the necessary.
“You’re avoiding me again.”
Her voice was soft but it still made my muscles twitch. She was right again, even if I didn’t want her to be.
“I am not. I’m giving you privacy to bathe.”
I didn’t miss her huff, nor the soft splash of the water as she rinsed her hair. It was the silence that followed that froze my lungs until she finally spoke again.
“You are.”
Her voice revealed she had moved closer, making my spine crawl with awareness. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to threaten my control.
“My interaction with Zharrek scared you. I’m sorry.”
My jaw clenched as I struggled to contain the growing pressure in my chest.
“It should have scared you.”
There was a soft sigh before she responded.
“It did.”
That made me turn. Her gaze held mine, open and honest, but not showing the fear I should have seen.
“It just didn’t scare me the way you think it should.”
She paused as my brows lowered. I didn’t understand, and I didn’t like that I didn’t understand.
“You see a dangerous animal,” she continued. “I see something broken that hasn’t been given a chance to heal.”
My heart thumped painfully.
“And if you’re wrong?”
Her lips flattened and worry flitted across her features, but she remained firm in her conviction.
“Then I’ll deal with the consequences.”
My hands curled beneath the water, my tail lashing hard enough to create ripples.
“No. You will not.”
The words came out sharper than I’d intended. Taryn blinked, her eyes going wide before her brows lowered to hide the hurt, and my gut clenched like I’d taken a fist while unprepared for the blow.
“Why not?”
Her tone accused, but it didn’t matter. She might not like the rules, or me, but she had to follow them.
“Because I will not allow it.”
Her expression shifted, but not the way I’d expected. She wasn’t angry or defiant, her eyes far too understanding.
She softened.
“Why, Rhydek?”
The question was quiet. Confused. Pleading. I opened my mouth, then closed it again to stop what wanted to come out.
Because I am responsible for you.
Because you are mine to protect.
Because losing you would—
I couldn’t breathe, a lump clogging my throat as I cut off those lines of thought. Instead, I said the only thing I could.
“No reason you will accept.”
She studied me for a long moment. Instead of growing angry, she stepped closer. Close enough that the water shifted between us, and I felt the heat of her warming it.
I was frozen in place, unsure what she was thinking as she reached up, and I braced for a blow to my cheek, prepared to accept it.
Instead, she placed her hand on my shoulder, her touch burning despite her lower body temperature. She rose as she used her hand to pull me down, the other palm landing on my chest a breath before her lips touched mine.
Soft, brief, gone almost as soon as it happened.
I’d seen Serenya do something similar to Kael, but they always held it longer, while I was left with an unsatisfied swirl in my chest. I was frozen, my mind blank as she pulled back. Desire surged through my veins, sharp and immediate, my kethra flaring bright as something primal clawed through me.
I stared at her, still close enough for me to grab.
She stared back, a soft curve to her lips before enough color flooded her cheeks to show despite the blue glow lighting her. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hands away, the loss as painful as any wound I’d ever received.
“Oh, umm, I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”
Her eyes stayed locked on mine. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, because I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I did.
“I just thought… I wanted to…”
She was stuttering, unable to complete a whole thought. When she took another step back it was instinct to follow so she couldn’t put more space between us.
“Morraki do kiss, right?”
My eyes narrowed and I had to stop my hand as it reached for her.
“Kiss?”
My voice was rough, a growl slipping into the single word I released. Her lips parted as she searched my face, trembling as she tried to back away again.
“Kissing is… on Earth it’s…”
She swallowed but stopped trying to retreat, clearly realizing she was making things worse. Only prey runs, and I was designed to chase.
“It’s… a way to show affection or appreciation.”
Affection.
The word settled between us, making me swallow hard when what she was saying sank in.
“No, we do not… kiss.”
Her face grew darker and she dropped her eyes. She held her hands in front of her, rubbing them together as if she didn’t know what else to do.
“Oh. Okay. Sorry about that.”
Silence crashed down, thick and heavy.
Charged.
I could still feel the press of her lips against mine, soft and giving. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, a low, involuntary growl building in my chest as my instincts surged, demanding more.
My tail wrapped behind her, stroking the side of her thigh. She gasped and jerked away from it, the moment broken.
I stepped back, cold water rushing between us to dilute the heat of her body. Taryn blinked, something like hurt flickering across her face before she masked it.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t do it again.”
The words came out harsher than I’d intended, cutting her off. They were too sharp, too final, but I couldn’t bring myself to take them back.
I had come too close to losing control.
Her face fell and she let her arms drop to her sides, straightening her shoulders. Her breasts were bare above the water’s surface, but neither of us acknowledged our nudity.
“I won’t.”
That same quiet acceptance, but worse this time, because I wanted her to deny me. I craved her challenge.
Turning away, I dragged a hand down my face as my heart pounded against my ribs. This was exactly what I had been trying to prevent.
Attachment.
Weakness.
I had seen where that path led. I knew what happened to the people who grew close to me.
Shaira’s memory hit like a blade between my ribs, piercing my lungs and stealing my breath as I stared into the darkness. An unfamiliar planet, the roar of battle. Blood, and her limp body in my arms.
My failure.
My fault.
I should have protected her. Kept her from going into battle, no matter how hard she’d trained and fought to be there. Earning honor wasn’t worth what she’d paid.
Everyone who came close to me ended up suffering. Shaevrin had marked me as a dealer in death. I excelled in battle, but even those I cared for were caught in the wind.
My jaw ached as I forced the memory away, burying it beneath layers of control. I wouldn’t let it happen again. Taryn didn’t deserve to have her life destroyed any more than I already had.
“You’re doing it again.”
Her voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the reality of the cold water lapping at my skin.
“Doing what?”
I spoke to the cavern, unable to face her.
“Pushing me away.”
Something in my chest twisted, but my lips twitched into the semblance of a smile. I’d be in trouble if I ever had to admit how often she was right.
“I am correcting behavior.”
There was a pause and I tried to imagine the look on her face.
Was she glaring at the back of my head?
Had her mouth dropped open in indignation, those soft lips parted?
“Why do you do it?”
Her voice was steady, as if she was giving me that look that held a hint of disappointment deep in her eyes while still trying to understand.
“Do what?”
Her long sigh made my smile widen. I pictured her rubbing her temples, perhaps cursing me in her mind.
“I’m not her, Rhydek.”
The world stopped and the smile melted away. I spun to face her, taking a step forward before I could stop myself.
“How do you—”
“It’s obvious you’ve lost someone and you’re still hurt. I’m not her.”
The words hit hard, shocking me into immobility. I couldn’t do anything but stare.
Was she really that good at reading me, or was I that obvious?
She held my gaze the way she always did. I should have seen pity, perhaps disgust at my weakness, but all I saw was pain and softness. As if she wanted to ease the hurt but didn’t know how.
“I don’t know what happened, but I know you blame yourself.”
My throat tightened, choking off my air. She’d seen right through me, as if we were already bonded and she could feel my guilt.
“It’s not safe to be close to me.”
The truth of it burned. It was something I should have realized sooner, before it cost Shaira her life.
“I don’t get to decide that?”
I made a noise in my throat, looking away again. She didn’t know what had happened. How many had lost their lives over the years because I hadn’t protected them.
“No.”
Her reply was instant.
“Too bad.”
Something in me snapped. I moved forward, closing the distance between us in a single step, my hand coming up to grip her jaw and hold her in place.
“You do not understand what you are risking.”
Her expression was defiant, her kethra glowing bright enough to make the water sparkle around us. Our teal and orange clashed, but she would look fierce when I claimed her and her markings glowed like fire on her flesh.
“Then explain it to me.”
She had to grit the words out between her teeth, my hold forcing her head back. I snarled, torn between flinging her away and wanting to keep her close.
Leaning down, I made sure I was all she could see as I told her the truth.
“I bring death to those around me.”
The words came out low, raw, but Taryn didn’t flinch. She shook her head and denied me as if it wasn’t possible.
“It’s not you. Nothing is going to happen to me because I’m with you.”
I scoffed but she kept going.
“War kills people. You are a leader, and you make the best decisions you can. You may give orders, but your warriors follow them knowing the risks. They trust you to give them the best chance and only use them when it’s worth it.”
My chest vibrated with a low growl as I looked into her blue eyes, so steady and sure.
“You do not know that.”
She reached up, covering my fingers with her smaller ones. The touch was soft, gentle, and drew the tension from my muscles.
“No, but neither do you. No one does. We make the best choices we can and enjoy the time we have.”
I released her, the act more difficult than it should have been. Her eyes followed me as I stepped back, trying to use distance to regain control.
“I will not let you become another failure.”
Taryn huffed as her brow arched.
“That’s not your choice.”
Glaring didn’t intimidate her, but it was automatic. It was the only thing I could do.
“It is.”
Shaking her head, she lifted her chin, defiance radiating from her. It didn’t matter that she was smaller than me, weaker than me.
“No. It’s ours.”
That word, ours, settled deep in my chest. The way she said it was dangerous, terrifying, and far too easy to want.
I turned away again, forcing space between us before I was foolish enough to fall for it.
“Finish bathing.”
My voice was controlled once more, cold and distant.
But inside, everything was unraveling. Nothing made sense anymore, and I didn’t know what to do.
For the first time, control felt like the wrong choice.