Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Lex
Iwoke to the unmistakable feeling of being watched, and not just by one pair of eyes.
No, this crawling sensation on the back of my neck indicated that at least three people were gazing at my unconscious and prone form.
I felt down the Bond, pleased and relieved that at least one of the watchers was Ilyas.
A second dimmer, but no less pleasant pulse indicated that a second pair of eyes most definitely belonged to the beautiful ebony-skinned warrior with the braids that tinkled whenever she walked.
Folami. My True Pain Vessel.
I felt the corners of my mouth lift into what I was sure was a seductive grin. Ilyas’ faint answering chuff was all the confirmation I needed that maybe it wasn’t as charming as intended.
“He’s awake!” an unknown voice whispered, the unmistakable small sweetness of a child.
A child? Does Folami have a child?
My heart beat an anxious rhythm as I woke, both excited and apprehensive at what would await me once my eyes were fully open.
I blinked slowly—once, then twice—as the blurry edges of a well-appointed room came into view. The walls were plastered in an intricately designed wallpaper a macabre shade of red, while gold filigree separated the wall from the equally gold ceiling.
The whole thing was jarring, the bright colors causing my nose to wrinkle. After so many years accustomed to the infinite obsidian of the Academy, the red and gold were overwhelming.
“Who decorated this place?” I muttered quietly, earning a cough of humor from more than one person in the room.
At least this bed is comfortable.
Huge and comfortable. It was by far the largest mattress I’d ever slept on, easily accommodating three adults in rather compromising positions. The only other place I’d seen beds this size was in the orgy rooms at Le Petite Mort.
“Please tell me I’m not at a brothel.” I closed my eyes on a horrified whisper.
“You’re not!” The exuberant voice of a child as they vaulted onto the bed caused my eyes to fly open as I was jostled about.
Instinctively, my arms opened and reached for where a girl was climbing up the edge of the bed.
She grabbed my hand with hers, pulling herself fully onto the mattress before crawling closer.
“Itanya—” I heard Faylinn groan, but her rebuke was completely ignored.
The little girl sat with her knees pointed toward me, heels under her butt as she cocked her head at me.
She was, in no uncertain terms, the most adorable child I’d ever seen.
I loved her immediately.
“You’re not in a brothel,” she said confidently, and I elbowed Ilyas as he smothered yet another laugh.
“No? Do you know what a brothel is?” I asked with a matching quizzical cock of my head. The little girl’s lips twitched even as Ilyas elbowed me in return, and I heard the muffled groan as Folami buried her face in her hands.
“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ on the end, barely overshadowing her mother’s audible sigh of relief.
“But I know you’re in the manor in Lishahl.
It’s where our ship landed after rescuing the Bondsmith and escaping from the gods in the south.
But now we’re here, and the gods have followed us.
At least I got a Gammy out of the whole adventure. ”
She spoke rapidly, the words nearly blending together in her haste to get them out, and I felt my lips twitching of their own accord. Her light-amber eyes were incredibly expressive, her strong nose twitching slightly as she spoke.
“Itanya,” Folami grumbled for a second time and was ignored, yet again, by her vivacious daughter.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Itanya. It’s what my mother keeps saying back there. She’s not exasperated enough yet to really yell, but I’m getting close.”
“Itanya!” Folami scolded loudly, and this time I howled with laughter. Itanya’s youthful giggles joined my guffaws, and even Ilyas chortled next to me.
“Oh, now you’ve done it,” I said, wiping a stray tear from my eye. It had been much, much too long since I’d experienced that kind of mirth, that unbridled joy. There was a warmth in my belly, a little tickle that grew the longer I was in Itanya’s presence.
Folami’s daughter.
“I didn’t know your mother had a daughter,” I said, my eyes darting over the little girl’s shoulder to make contact with her mother.
Folami froze under my stare, her eyes going wide in fear, so I quickly averted my gaze, turning back to her daughter.
“But this is quite a nice surprise. I think you and I are going to be very good friends, Itanya,” I said lightly with a wink in the little girl’s direction, which only sent her into another fit of giggles.
I could actually feel the anxiety bleed from Folami, the tension in the air dissipating nearly completely.
“And that man over there”—she pointed to a hulking figure in the corner of the bedroom—“is my daddy. His name is Peytor.”
“Didn’t know you fathered a kid, d’Aelius,” I said mildly, darting my eyes to the glowering man, being careful to keep my tone neutral so as to not offend Itanya or her mother.
The final set of eyes.
“I didn’t. But she may as well be mine. Both of them,” he growled in response, eyes flashing with a challenge. I felt Ilyas stiffen beside me, ready to jump to my defense, but I stalled his actions with a calming hand on his forearm.
Peytor’s eyes flicked to where I gently held Ilyas, something flashing in his gaze before he shut his emotions down completely. Rather than bite back, I held my tongue and used the time to catalog his features.
And what features they were.
My gaze trailed up from the floor, along muscular legs that pushed at the edges of his pants to the area between his thighs where I could see the outline of his cock. My eyebrows raised in appreciation, and I noticed his length harden slightly as I refused to divert my attention.
Is he into men, too?
Humming in thought, I ripped my gaze upward to continue my perusal.
Strong arms banded across a chest nearly as broad as Ilyas’, the sleeves of his dark tunic pushed up to reveal forearms sculpted and tanned from intense physical labor.
Thin, silvery scars sliced across his skin in a randomized pattern, some crisscrossing while others were lone thin slashes.
Peytor noticed where my gaze held, and he shuffled slightly, obscuring the worst of his scarring from view.
My eyes instantly jumped to his, bypassing the muscled expanse of chest and enticing collarbone just beyond the top of his tunic.
Peytor’s gaze was guarded, his irises flitting from glinting silver to deep grey in a matter of seconds.
Carefully so as not to spook him into running, I pushed the sleeves of my own tunic up before pulling the neck down, exposing my heavily scarred flesh.
Peytor’s eyes flashed with surprise and more than a little pain before settling somewhere between understanding and acceptance.
Somehow and for some reason, we endured similar agony, similar torture, though we weren’t alone in that experience.
We all bear the scars of our past, of the sacrifices we made, I thought quietly, releasing the neck of my tunic as I finished lazily perusing Peytor’s body.
His posture was more relaxed now, even if he still radiated some hostility.
His jaw was cut from stone, and a muscle feathered there, revealing his anxiousness and frustration but doing nothing to detract from his beauty.
And he was beautiful.
Where Ellowyn’s hair was a flowing light-blonde wave, Peytor’s was a messy auburn mop. The tresses were so thick and long that my fingers ached to run through them, tugging and twisting as I claimed his lush mouth.
Unconsciously, I released a thin strand of Pleasure Magic into the room, instantly relaxing the occupants. Embarrassed at my lack of control around the brooding Vessel, I quickly tamped down on the flow of power. Instantly, Peytor’s glower returned in full force, his eyes flashing with hostility.
“Don’t you have any sense of self-worth to not release that in the presence of children?” he seethed through clenched teeth.
Chagrined and hot with embarrassment, I turned pleading eyes to Folami.
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just—”
“Lost control. You lost control. See! I told you. He’s dangerous, Folami,” Peytor growled once more before striding for the exit, the door banging loudly on his way out.
Itanya shuffled off the bed, slightly cowed by Peytor’s explosion, and I instantly wanted to take her in my arms and cuddle away the bad feelings.
“I’m sorry, Itanya,” I mumbled to the little girl who simply shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Daddy has just struggled a bit since mommy’s been back.
It’ll be okay.” She whispered the last part as if she desperately was trying to convince herself.
Folami looked like her heart had been torn into pieces at Itanya’s admittance.
She reached one long-fingered hand up to stroke Itanya’s unruly curls before laying a gentle, sad kiss on her forehead.
“You know he’s not angry with you,” she whispered against her daughter’s forehead. I dutifully looked away, uncomfortable eavesdropping on a private moment.
“I know, Mommy.” Itanya’s voice was still chipper, but there was an undercurrent of sadness there, too.
She, like all children, only ever deserved to be happy.
The door opened and shut a second time, though the closing was much quieter. The soft snick of the lock had my head turning back, surprised to see Folami still in the armchair nearest my bed. Her hands played absently with the fibers of her pants, periodically picking at stray threads.
After a heavy stretch of silence, I interrupted quietly.