Chapter Nine
Theodor
The Loathing of Misunderstandings
“Are you nervous?” Mozraath asked Theodor while he continued raking the large brush through his hair.
“No,” Theodor lied. “Why would I be?”
“Well, because Boraleashe is so damn unpredictable. The last time you tried to love him, he threw you off a mountain.” Mozraath shrugged. “I sure as fuck would be nervous to try again.”
“Is this your idea of an inspiring speech?” Theodor gritted.
“No. I understand why you must try. I just wish you had other options if he rejects you again.”
Thanks a fuckin’ lot, Moz.
“He won’t,” Theodor responded, sounding more confident than he was.
He better not anyway.
Theodor slipped into his evening attire, and Mozraath helped him into the long emerald-green silk robe. He left his bare chest exposed, not wanting a single layer of fabric to prevent him from feeling everything. He said a quick good night to Mozraath and closed the doors to his bedchambers.
He moved around his room, too excited to lie in bed and wait for his company.
He’d never been this worked up with any other bed companions—because that was all they’d ever been—no one had even come close to touching his soul.
Not when it already belonged to another.
Even with that fucked-up curse, Boraleashe made Theodor feel things that no other being had.
And he’d bedded shifters, sirens, elves, demigods, and even a warlock once, which had been interesting and adventurous, but he always found himself still wanting, craving a deeper affection after it was over and done.
Theodor got tired of pacing; he got tired of sitting on the balcony and overlooking the palace grounds. The hour was getting late, and Boraleashe should’ve been there by now. They should’ve already been tangled together in his sheets.
“Where the fuck are you?” he growled, staring up into the night sky.
A quarter of his bedroom was open to the outdoors. There was no wall or windows, only openness to allow in the autumn breeze and the growth of his favorite trees he had planted throughout his quarters. He wanted Boraleashe to see it and love his space.
Theodor sighed, reclining deeper into the plush mattress. If his company didn’t get to him soon, Theodor wasn’t going to send for him. No, he was going to go find Boraleashe himself.
The moment he’d decided he’d waited long enough, the doors to his chambers opened, and a tall, well-built man with his face shadowed by the darkness of the room stood at the threshold.
The light Theodor had to see by was moonlight, but already he could tell that the man in his chambers was not Boraleashe.
He was sure of it because the silhouette and even the scent were all wrong.
“Who are you? And who allowed you in here?” Theodor leapt from his bed and tied his robe around his naked body.
“My king,” the visitor answered in a gruff tone, “it is Biorn of Cassius.”
“What in the hell are you doing in here?”
“I thought I was clear in my intentions this afternoon, and I thought you’d accepted my offer.” Biorn gestured over his shoulder at his chamber doors. “That is how I got into your quarters. I informed your guards that you were expecting me.”
“Well, then you lied. Accepting your flowers did not permit you to come to my bed,” Theodor snarled.
He didn’t like at all how this looked. Biorn was dressed provocatively in tight, black leather trousers and a loose-fitting tunic split in the front to reveal far more chest and stomach than was necessary or appropriate in his palace. “You must leave, Biorn.”
“Theodor, what’s wrong?” Biorn asked, sounding confused.
Anger gripped Theodor, but he kept a hold on his actions, talking through clenched teeth. “Do not use my name so casually, Biorn. I didn’t give you permission to do that either.”
“But my king. I thought you had accepted my affections today… I apologize if I misread your actions?”
“I can assure you; you did. And for that reason, I apologize. I should’ve been a bit blunter, perhaps.”
“No apologies needed, my lord.” Biorn sauntered forward, unclasping the buttons holding together his flimsy top. His steps were light and seductive for such a large man. “I will be blunter as well. Allow me the honor to warm my king’s bed tonight.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Theodor hurried. “And let this be my last time telling you to leave before I call my—”
“Lord Theodor. I will do whatever you—” Biorn’s pale eyes blew open so wide it triggered Theodor to spin around to see what had scared the life and speech out of Biorn.
Boraleashe stood there on the balcony with his head lowered, his fists clenched at his sides while his sharp, silver eyes took in the scene before him.
Theodor could see the terror of wrath bubbling beneath a surface of forced calmness.
Panic unfurled because he knew how this looked, and he fucking hated misunderstandings.
Loathed them. Theodor wanted to fix this fast, explain what Biorn was doing there, but Boraleashe didn’t give him a chance before his expression morphed from confusion to rage… to something very dangerous.
The temperature in the room plummeted to the degree that Theodor could see his own breath.
Biorn looked about to soil himself, his normal olive skin tone turning a frightening shade of blue.
Biorn clutched at his throat, gasping for breathable air when Boraleashe raised one hand and sent a powerful surge of snow and ice through every open space in his chambers.
Theodor was able to protect himself against the freezing temperatures, but his uninvited guest wasn’t faring so well. The plants in his room began to wilt, and the trees cracked and split from the frost clinging to their sensitive trunks.
“Boraleashe!” Theodor shouted. “Enough! You are a guest. Show some restraint!”
Boraleashe’s words started out a low growl before they spilled from his lips in a snarl. “And how many guests do you allow in your chambers nightly, Your Highness?”
Shit. Theodor clenched his jaw and held back the retort on the tip of his tongue while silent anger seeped through his veins.
It was evident by the splotches of red on Boraleashe’s light skin that he was more embarrassed than mad.
No one liked to be made a fool of, but a titan took that disgrace to a whole other level of disappointment.
Which would result in words and blows being hurled at the offender.
“Do not say something you will regret, Boraleashe,” Theodor warned instead. He was furious at Biorn for putting him in this situation and annoyed with Boraleashe for not being able to listen to reason.
Boraleashe’s snowy hair whipped violently around his face when he called on another gust of painful arctic wind that pinned Biorn to the door.
“Release him!” Theodor commanded, the ice against his chest stabbing him even deeper. He used his autumn heat to melt the ice over his body and the snow in his chambers, but it only made Boraleashe send for more.
If Theodor was experiencing muted pain from the storm that Boraleashe raged, he was positive Biorn had to feel as if he was being choked by death itself.
“Guards,” Biorn attempted. He’d stopped shivering, but his limbs appeared heavy and useless at his sides, his half-lidded eyes rolling to the back of his head.
He was suffering from hypothermia, and if Theodor didn’t do something fast, he’d soon have a dead body in his chamber to account for. “My king, please… help me.”
Jealousy was all over Boraleashe’s face. He leveled his murderous gaze on Biorn, on the man who was now on his hands and knees, covered in icy sleet and crawling in his direction.
Boraleashe began to roll his hands one over the other, causing even colder air to veil the room like an evil spell, and no matter how much warmth Theodor called forward, his calming winds were immediately doused by Boraleashe’s avalanches of fury.
He had Biorn in his line of sight, continuing to rotate his hands around, forming a massive ball of northern energy, a formidable weapon that was already powerful enough to blast a hole clear through Biorn’s chest. Sure, it was his own fault he was in this situation—Biorn should not have been in his chambers—but it wasn’t a mistake he should die for.
Boraleashe reared back, preparing to throw the deadly frost in Biorn’s direction, when Theodor kicked into action. “Resta strixix viratorpus,” he chanted, then braced himself for the blast from the spell Mozraath had given him for dangerous situations.
The fire of Hades came fast and ferociously, causing the floor to tremble. The flames licked up the sides of the walls, merged into a blaze of rage, then flew toward Boraleashe, knocking him backward. The thick blocks of ice that had formed and sealed the room melted and boiled around his feet.
Biorn slumped to the floor, his face dripping with perspiration while he struggled to take a breath.
Theodor’s heartbeat accelerated as he watched Boraleashe climb back to his feet in slow motion, his angry glare locked on the orange glow still clinging to Theodor’s hands and forearms.
“How did you do that?” Boraleashe’s voice was sharp enough to slice like a blade. He was asking how, but Theodor knew that wasn’t what he meant. Boraleashe’s defeated stance was asking him why he’d fought against him… and not for him.
Theodor shook his hands out, trying to release the demonic energy surging through his fingertips. Dread and fear coiled in his chest when he saw the hurt, betrayal, and agony etched across Boraleashe’s beautiful face before he turned and bolted for the balcony.
“No, Boraleashe, wait! Don’t—” Theodor yelled. But it was too late.
Boraleashe was already in the sky.
Fuck!