Chapter 17 Faylinn
Chapter Seventeen
Faylinn
The cadence of heavy steps trying to be light as they tapped over stone floors roused me from the hazy point between wakefulness and sleep.
A muffled curse bounced around the space, and a small smile of amusement pulled at the corners of my lips as the speaker tried to silence themselves once again.
I bled back into unconsciousness, the warmth of the silk sheets doused in the heady aroma of smoke and leather rasped against my naked skin, cocooning me in safety, before I was rudely awakened again, but this time from the pain that lanced through my mind.
Gasping, I sat bolt upright in bed, clutching my forehead in my hands as they came to rest against my propped knees.
Holy gods above, why does it hurt like that?
Hot-white agony and sorrow like I’d never known invaded every sense until I felt like I’d be consumed completely. Numbly, I tried to separate myself from the pain, to assess my body and mind for injury, but there were none.
The pain was not my own.
That thought should not have alarmed me as much as it did; I would rather this agony belong to me than whoever was suffering so silently.
A pitiful whimper escaped my tightly pressed lips, and I vaguely registered the sound of heavy footsteps as they approached the bed.
“Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop,” I chanted, rocking back and forth on the bed, clutching my head in my hands until my knuckles were white and I felt the bite of my broken nails against my dirty scalp.
“I’m sorry, Faylinn, I’m trying,” a vaguely familiar, decidedly male voice responded. I felt a bolt of panic and self-hatred before the suffering abated, leaving only an echo of pain.
I took deep, gulping breaths, my back heaving with each inhale, as I tried to reconcile what the fuck just happened.
A large, warm hand landed hesitantly on my back. Their touch was soothing, comforting, even if their identity was unknown. When I didn’t move away from the caress, the hand started rubbing small circles on my back, rough callouses causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.
“What is happening,” I mumbled, my tongue thick in my mouth, as if it was swollen twice its normal size.
“I believe we’re Bonded,” the voice rumbled again, all traces of emotion wiped completely. At the admission, the memories of the night Rohak died came rushing back like a broken dam giving way to a flood.
Flash.
Rohak falling, his body broken.
Flash.
Rohak burning Alois’ body, his magic fleeing as Gisei burned out and died while clutching his hand.
Flash.
Sasori poised to strike Rohak, Alois’ sword held high above her head.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Me erecting a protection border around Rohak while I fought to keep him alive.
Me pulling Rohak onto my shoulders and entering the Academy.
Me Bonding Rohak against his will.
I flinched at the last memory, my body stiffening under the hand that I was now sure belonged to the surly Destruction Mage, my grumpy General.
Once wishful thinking, it now seemed that the General truly was mine.
If he even wants you, a caustic voice whispered, the one that liked to remind me that Rohak hated Forced Bonds . . . and I’d just done that to him.
“I’m sorry,” was the only thing I could think to say, even though the words and sentiment were not nearly powerful enough to convey the soul-deep sorrow I felt at depriving Rohak of yet another chance at a True Bond.
I wrestled for control over my erratic emotions, but the effort was futile. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I fought against the self-loathing that consumed my being.
“Faylinn,” Rohak rasped, his fingers twitching against my spine. “Faylinn, stop. I can . . . feel you.”
I reined in my emotions as quickly as I could, my head shooting from my hands, only to stare directly into the emerald eyes that had haunted my dreams and memories since I’d left Isrun all those months ago.
Rohak, I breathed in my mind, his name both a balm to my wounds and the cause of them.
“Hello, Faylinn.” His voice echoed in my mind, and I jolted with a gasp, scrambling back on my hands until my head hit his wooden headboard with a resounding thump.
“Ow! Fucking godsdamned piece of dead tree,” I groused, rubbing what was sure to be an egg-sized lump at the back of my head. I watched as Rohak winced as if in pain before his lips twitched in amusement at my curse.
I continued massaging the sore spot while trying to parse through why I could hear Rohak in my head, and he, apparently, could hear me.
Skittering back to the headboard dislodged the sheet from where it covered my torso, exposing my naked chest to the waist down. The movement of my arm only served to emphasize my lack of clothing, my breasts moving in tandem with my gestures.
Rohak’s gaze heated, his eyes darkening to a near forest-green, before sweeping his gaze slowly down my naked form, settling on my breasts. My nipples instantly hardened under his stare, despite the warmth of the air.
I dropped my hand from my head and moved to recover myself despite the fact that I rather enjoyed Rohak’s eyes on me.
Silence hung heavy between us while I curled beneath the covers that I recognized smelled like both of us. Rohak physically tore his gaze from my body with a shake of his head and clench of his eyes. I spent the time prodding at my mind, trying to find a reason why we appeared to be so connected.
There, faint but present, was a golden filigree that connected Rohak and me to each other. I touched it gently and watched as Rohak’s eyes widened before sending his own touch along the Bond. The string thrummed and hummed as if it liked our attention.
“We can hear each other’s thoughts,” I stated.
“It appears that way,” Rohak sighed, sitting heavily on the bed by my feet.
He was more disheveled than I’d ever seen him, the stress of the battle affecting him more than he would say.
While it was clear he’d bathed at some point, there were purple circles under his eyes, and his normally dark skin was a few shades lighter.
Rohak’s hair stuck up in every direction, as if he’d run his hands through it continually.
What was most concerning, though, was the onslaught of pain I’d felt when I first awoke.
If he can conceal that so well . . . what else is he hiding?
“We can also feel each other’s emotions,” he added wryly.
I chewed my lip in thought, brushing a stray curl off my forehead.
“How?”
“You Bonded me, Faylinn,” he said dryly, gesturing to the Bond Mark. I unwrapped my arm sporting the Bond tattoo from beneath the sheet, making sure to keep the other securely fastened around my chest.
I examined it closely, noting the hue and pattern, frowning a bit at the difference between our mark and the other Life Bonds I’d administered.
“You need your journal,” Rohak said with a nod, clearly reading my need to write, record, and compare.
We will have to set some ground rules about that.
He rose without a word, the bed bouncing slightly with the loss of his weight, and strode to a corner of the room that held a solitary chair laden with dirty and nearly destroyed clothes.
On top of the pile was my utility belt, the journal I’d meticulously kept for years tucked safely in the largest pouch.
Rohak procured it with little fanfare before reaching for the adjacent pocket and selecting one of my charcoal pencils.
Somehow, he knew I’d want to sketch our mark in my book before adding notes and observations. Clearly, Rohak had been paying attention.
What else has he noticed?
I quickly checked to make sure my emotions were securely tamped down, not wanting him to feel the flood of affection just yet. I still wasn’t sure if he even wanted this Bond, despite the fact that he seemed relatively accepting right now.
Thanking him quietly, I reached for my journal and pencil with both hands, realizing too late that the sheet would fall away to expose my breasts once more.
Rohak released a pained grunt as he slammed his eyes shut before retreating to the door.
“I will . . . give you a minute to examine the mark in peace and allow you privacy to bathe, if you so desire. The water is warm and fresh, I refilled it after cleaning myself. There are linens as well as soap and shampoo for you. I don’t have the cream for your curls, so I apologize for that.
I hope you don’t mind that I set out a spare set of my blacks for you—they’re resting on the sink counter.
” My eyebrows rose higher the longer Rohak spoke.
Everything was said with a clinical detachment, but I could feel inklings down the Bond that showed that this was far more than what he made it to be.
Care.
Understanding.
Compassion.
Want.
My cheeks warmed as I thought about Rohak searching for my curl cream. My stomach took that moment to growl loudly in the silent space, and I stared down at it with a look of abject horror.
“I’ll use this time to get us some food? We can eat in my sitting room and discuss . . . whatever this is,” Rohak said hesitantly, gesturing between us.
I nodded my head silently, trying to project the sheer gratitude I felt.
Rohak’s face remained impassive as ever before nodding to me once and striding from the room. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving me alone in his bedroom.
The last time I was in here, I’d Bonded Rohak to Gisei before . . . helping arouse Rohak so he could complete the Bond.
My skin flushed at the memory, my cheeks heating at the phantom feeling of his cock in my palm, and I swore I felt a bolt of lust that was somehow both mine and not mine before it retreated just as quickly.
Food. I need food and to think.
I shook my head as I swung my legs from the bed, walking quickly across the cool stone floor to the adjacent bathroom.
It, like everything else in Rohak’s life—save for me—was militant and sparse, only the necessities present as if even the thought of frivolity could distract him from the seriousness of his position.