Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Lex
Rain pattered relentlessly against the thick canopy of trees as Ilyas and I picked our way through the woods that separated Vespera and Lishahl. The trees were so dense that the deluge from the heavens was reduced to a light drizzle down on the forest floor.
It was a pity, really, considering we still wore the stench of death from the Battle of Vespera.
Luckily, after walking for days and marinating in my own stink, I no longer smelled the odors that were probably permanently ingrained in my skin.
The soft mist at least helped to wet my blood-matted hair, the evidence of my sins falling in red rivulets down my face and neck, only to be absorbed by the collar of my tunic.
My steps crunched over sticks and just-damp leaves before squishing in the soft mud of the forest’s floor.
With a heaving breath, I yanked my foot from where the ground tried to absorb my boot.
What should have been a limited effort turned into a tug-of-war with the mud, one that left me short of breath as I sat back against a felled tree, the thick moss softening my fall.
“Fuck,” I lamented, my voice cracking as my eyes fluttered shut.
Just a second. I’ll rest just a second.
The thrum in my chest pulsated angrily, demanding I keep walking.
“Fuck,” Ilyas echoed my sentiment as he fell next to me, the ground shuddering slightly with his considerable weight.
Our chests heaved nearly in tandem as we fought to catch our breath. The air rattled in my lungs as I wheezed. Ilyas grunted and groaned as he massaged the muscles around his ribs, gasping all the while.
For a moment, the only other sounds were the soft pattering of rain against the leaves above our heads, intermixed with the chittering of distant squirrels and chirping birds.
It would have been a peaceful place to rest if it weren’t for our mission—the whole reason we were on this godsforsaken path to begin with.
“We’ll rest here a minute longer, then we have to move again,” I panted, sticky tongue darting out to lick my cracked lips.
We’d left Vespera directly after the battle, following the pull in my chest and the barely concealed tracks of Torin and the rebels as they carried Ellowyn to some undisclosed location.
Ilyas nodded wordlessly as he leaned his head back against the log.
This journey—my choice to follow Ellowyn—had taken a toll on him, especially after the stress of the battle.
Ilyas’ dark complexion was slightly pallid and marred by a myriad of just-healing cuts and abrasions, his skin waxy with sweat and exhaustion.
Even now, as he rubbed the ache in his side, the muscles in his legs tensed and jumped as they protested the grueling pace and lack of sustenance.
I was worried for Ilyas—he would never tell me to halt our progress and return to Vespera, never indicate if he was reaching his breaking point.
Ilyas’ steadfast loyalty only made me feel worse about my decision to leave Vespera, especially because the physical evidence of our trials and tribulations was so apparent.
My gaze roamed over his muscular form, checking again for the thousandth time for any further injuries.
It was the least I could do, especially when my thoughts were so dark.
The stench of death and screams of the dying still haunted my waking thoughts, stirring a deep sense of paranoia.
The memory of Rohak falling motionless in battle, Sasori’s face writ with hatred as she raised the General’s sword over his prone body, transformed and twisted over time.
Sometimes I was Rohak, fallen in battle with my former Bonded poised to end my life; other times I watched as she mercilessly stabbed Ilyas.
The worst times were when the vision contorted completely, and I stood in place of Sasori, Ilyas’ body impaled on my sword.
I physically shook my head, desperately attempting to dislodge the insidious thoughts.
Luckily, Ilyas still rested with his eyes shut, never noticing the internal battle writ upon my face.
If he had, I held no doubts that he would try and fix me, force me to talk about my intrusive thoughts before helping to dispel them, weeding truth from lie.
After everything Ilyas endured because of me, I deserved some self-flagellation.
Once my breathing turned to a more normal pattern, I began stretching my sore and aching muscles, trying desperately to conceal my winces and whines of pain.
A low mewl inadvertently hissed through my clenched teeth as I moved my hip outward and gently massaged with the pads of my thumbs.
Pain shot down my leg and up my back from simply the lightest touch, and I quickly removed my prodding fingers.
“Godsdamn,” I whimpered, writhing slightly from the lingering pain.
Ilyas’ head swiveled toward me, his previously sluggish and tired gaze now completely alert. His brow furrowed over ocean eyes as he watched my leg spasm.
“Let me help you,” he rasped through cracked and bleeding lips.
He needs water. I should be the one taking care of him—I’m his Mage, his True Bonded, his lover. It is my duty to take care of him.
My failings only made the physical pain worse.
Ilyas must have seen the objection on my face because he simply shot me a grim, half-hearted smile before his large palm covered my hip.
“Let me. It’s my honor.” Ilyas’ devotion wore at the last vestiges of my rebuttal, and I jerkily nodded.
His hand moved slowly at first, delicately feeling the unnatural bulging of hard muscle beneath my pants.
The warmth of his palms seeped through the damp fabric, relaxing my abused thighs, which only caused the twitching to increase as my muscles vainly tried to relax.
I gritted my teeth, eyes squinting shut in pain, as Ilyas gently pushed against the knots.
“Okay,” I panted after a few minutes, doubtful I could endure further ministrations, even if Ilyas’ touch was loving. “Okay, that’s all for now.”
Ilyas stopped, but left his warm palm on my hip, gently caressing my pant-clad skin with his thumb.
“When we get to wherever we’re going, you need a warm bath and a few hours underneath skilled hands,” he remarked as sternly as his battered throat would allow. “I hate seeing you in pain like this. You’ve been in too much of it recently.”
I covered Ilyas’ hand with my own. “I could say the same about you, Ilyas,” I lamented. “You wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for me. I’m so sorry—”
Ilyas abruptly leaned over and pressed his lips to my own in a chaste kiss, effectively ending my apology.
“Stop,” he said as he squeezed my hand once in acknowledgment and appreciation.
“We will talk of everything later. Not because I need your apologies, but because you need to decompress. Otherwise, everything you carry right now will be too heavy—the guilt will eat you alive, Lex. I’ve seen it once before, and I refuse to let it happen again.
Not when we have the ability to prevent it this time.
” His voice petered out at the end of his statement.
Heaviness built behind my eyes, and if I were hydrated enough, I knew tears would have spilled down my cheeks to mix with the rain and blood drying there.
Ilyas searched my eyes, looking for any sense of denial. I was too tired to fight him on this now, but he would receive many apologies once we located Ellowyn and the rebellion, once I discovered what this pulsating in my chest meant.
“What’s the other Bond telling you? How close are they?” Ilyas rasped quietly, exhaustion forcing his eyes closed as his head fell to my shoulder.
I’d speculated for a few days now what the insistent pull was, but never voiced my thoughts. I should have known that my True Bonded would already have the same ideas.
“Close, but moving,” I said, but Ilyas didn’t answer. His soft breaths puffed warmly against my neck as he lost the fight with sleep.
He deserves to rest.
I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the pulling in my chest, but the heaviness of Ilyas’ head coupled with the weight of the palm on my thigh gave my body a false sense of security.
His rhythmic breaths caused my eyelids to flutter as I lost consciousness, nestled against my Bonded on the wet forest floor.
Sharp, cold metal pressed against my throat, jarring me from my slumber.
“Do not move,” a melodic female voice hissed lowly. “Unless you wish me to slit your throat quicker than you can blink.”
That voice. That voice. I knew that voice.
But how?
My eyes fluttered open and, for a brief moment, everything felt right. My Bond to Ilyas thrummed in my chest, slightly stronger now that we’d rested for the first time in days. The second pull was less insistent, even content.
I smiled sappily and sighed deeply as I opened my eyes to see a beautiful, ebony-skinned woman with waist-length braids intertwined with gold charms towering over my prone form.
Her arm was fully extended, the corded muscles in her shoulders and arms taut as her spear extended from her body, the tip of it resting against my throat.
Even the murderous rage and thinly veiled distrust writ in her deep-amber eyes couldn’t dull my immediate infatuation.
Her scowl became more pronounced at the dopey grin that spread across my face.
That grin, though, was very quickly replaced by a grimace as the pain in my muscles registered once more.
The onslaught of feeling was immediate, slamming into my consciousness with an otherworldly force.
I gritted my teeth together so forcefully, I was sure a molar cracked.
My eyes slammed shut, and a whine of pain escaped my lips as it felt like every muscle in my body contracted at once.