Chapter 27 Peytor
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Peytor
My boots clacked against the exposed stone for two paces before I turned and strode in the opposite direction, my steps muffled by the thick red rug that covered the majority of the floor in Folami’s and my bedroom.
Back and forth I paced, my strides rapid and sharp, hands raking through my hair, as I waited for Folami to return from his room.
Just the thought of the affable Pleasure Mage was enough to annoy and arouse.
Even now, my cock twitched against the confines of my pants in response to the dual male chuckles—one deep and undulating, the other slightly husky and quieter—that bled through the thin wall separating our room from theirs.
Disgust once again filled my veins at my body’s reaction to just their voices.
Why, after all this time, were they the first men my cock took an interest in?
With a growl of frustration, I shook my head and strained to listen to their conversation through the adjoining wall.
I couldn’t quite hear Folami’s response to their mirth, or what even elicited that reaction, but I could tell the normal sharpness of her voice was absent.
Not for the first time, I cursed the fact that I was a Vessel and not a Mage.
What I wouldn’t give for the ability to hear through that wall.
White-hot jealousy coursed through my veins as I thought about her with them; thought about them making her laugh, easing past her defenses.
It took me months—months—to get to a place where she trusted me with her softness, felt protected and seen enough to let those walls crumble.
Lex and Ilyas destroyed them within a matter of days.
Inadequacy and insecurity twined closely with the jealousy. My skin crawled as nausea rose at the thought of sharing her laughs and quiet with someone else.
What if she picks them? What if I am no longer what she wants?
The thought cut me to the core.
Losing Finian was one of the worst moments of my life, but losing Folami and, consequently, Itanya? That would utterly destroy me.
The tempo of my steps increased in response to my agitation. Sweat beaded against my skin, sticking my normally loose tunic to my back, but still I paced.
I swallowed against the sudden dryness in my throat, aggressively willing my agitation to dissipate.
Folami’s soft voice filtered through the wall again, followed by the low murmurs of the two males, before I heard the soft click of the door to the adjacent room.
Abruptly, I halted my pacing, anticipating Folami walking through our door to see the wildness I couldn’t contain.
The last thing I wanted was to push Folami away, for her to think I was insecure in our connection.
Other men aren’t the issue; the problem is that Mage is her True Bond and can offer her something I never can.
I pulled at the roots of my hair just as our door swung softly open. Folami lightly stepped through with a small smile on her face.
My gut sank at her vulnerable expression, and my shoddy attempt at reducing my jealous insecurities to a mere simmer was already abandoned.
“Did you have fun?” I asked, my question and tone much more caustic than I originally intended.
Immediately, Folami’s expression fell, her soft smile replaced by the hardened look she wore as the rebellion’s general.
Shit.
Her amber eyes flinted as she closed the door, hands and arms held loose at her sides, almost as if she was preparing for a fight.
Her physical reaction to my frustration was a direct punch to the gut.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my shoulders dropping as the adrenaline waned. “I’m . . . I just don’t know how to handle this right now.”
Folami flinched slightly as I reached toward her, and I felt my heart crack in half. My hand froze in midair before I slowly drew it back to my side, careful not to fist it lest Folami think I would strike her.
“Do you really think I would hurt you?” I asked, horrified, my voice hoarse and cracking.
Folami quickly shook her head, braids tinkling together in a song of rough agitation. Lines from squinting against the sun appeared at the corners of firmly shut eyes as her mouth formed a thin line.
“No, of course not, Peytor. I know you would never hurt me”—I relaxed slightly with her words—“it’s just . . . all a lot for me right now.”
I let her words hang in the air, hoping she would continue without my coaxing. With each deep breath, I could see the tension leak from her tautly held muscles—her fists unclenched first before she physically shook out her arms and legs.
“Am I still yours?” I asked quietly once her posture was languid. For a few agonizing minutes, the room was silent.
Folami refused to open her eyes; maybe it was easier to deliver the killing blow without seeing me. I crossed my arms tightly and dug my nails into my biceps. The bite of pain grounded me and offered a wisp of protection from the words I was certain would fall from her lips.
“You are still mine, Peytor, just as I am still yours,” she whispered, the stinging pressure of tears immediately following her words. “But I think he—they—might also be mine.”
Finally, Folami opened her eyes, and I knew she could see the myriad of emotions swirling in the depths of mine, just as I could see hers. I opened my arms slowly so as not to spook her and gestured for her to come closer.
Immediately and with no hesitation, Folami closed the distance between us to rest her head against my shoulder. Her body sagged against me as my arms encased her, offering the comfort and solace we both desperately craved.
Despite the apparent laxness in her posture, Folami’s body was still wound so tight, she practically vibrated against me. I slowly worked my fingers into the tight muscles that lined her spine and shoulders.
“Say something,” she mumbled into my shoulder, her warm breath fanning over my neck.
For the longest time, I held my tongue while I continually caressed and kneaded her flesh as I thought.
“Peytor?” Folami mumbled, her head rising from my shoulder to look into my eyes.
“Talk to me. You’re sweaty, and your pulse is racing, I can feel it.
” One of her palms covered the area over my heart, her heat bleeding through the thin fabric of my tunic.
For a while, I simply gazed at her hand on my chest, reveled in the contrast in our skin tones, melted into her touch as she tried to stroke away my insecurities.
“I have a lot to say, Folami, but even I don’t know how to work through it all right now,” I said, my gaze rising to meet hers.
Folami pinched her full lips as her eyes danced between mine.
“Try,” she commanded.
I blew out a harsh breath as my hands fell from her waist to wind back through my hair.
“I’m . . . confused. Angry. Jealous. Frustrated. Concerned. A whole myriad of emotions, Folami, and all of them revolve around those two men.” I gestured to the wall that separated our rooms.
“That is all valid,” Folami said, and I scoffed scornfully.
“Yes, I know it is, Folami. But it doesn’t change the fact that the potent cocktail of emotions that I have swirling in my gut right now is making me enraged and a bit unhinged.
My thoughts are spiraling out of control as my mind takes me down the worst paths imaginable.
I finally saw you for the first time in months, and the first words you spoke were about them.
There was no reunion, there was no happiness to see me, you simply launched into the prospect that you might be that Mage’s True Bond.
” Folami opened her mouth to interrupt, but now that I’d started speaking, there was no containing my words as they spilled from my tongue.
“And if you decide that’s what you want, then what does that make me, Folami?
You say that I am yours, but they might be yours, too?
You know I realize how a Bond is completed, right?
Do you simply expect me to be okay with you fucking another man?
I . . . gods, Folami, I feel like I’m going insane!
And you look completely nonplussed by everything that’s happened!
For the entire time I’ve known you, you have hated with the passion of a burning sun the concept of Bonds.
You’ve hated the Warlord and everything he stood for, everything you suffered under his management at the hands of your Bonded.
And now what? You want to voluntarily enter into a Bond with someone you don’t know?
I’m struggling to wrap my head around the fact that you would simply renege on years of hatred and distrust, all because you’re magically made for that man? It’s insane!”
The volume of my voice rose with each question, each accusation, until I was practically shouting at Folami. No doubt, the Mage and his Vessel could hear us straight through the wall.
Just what I need—the Mage to swoop in and offer her “understanding” where her lover couldn’t.
The thought had my insecurities bubbling to the surface once more, and I growled in frustration.
“Are you done?” Folami asked, colder than I’d heard in months. In fact, I was unsure if she’d ever taken that tone with me.
“Yes,” I clipped, sinking into one of the twin red armchairs in the sitting area of our room. Folami followed me into the space but refused to sit. Instead, she crossed her arms so tightly I could see her biceps bulge and muscles twitch as she loomed over me.
“Good. Now you are going to listen to me and listen carefully, Peytor, because it is the only time I will say this.” Folami’s eyes flashed dangerously as she spoke evenly, cooly.
“You, nor anyone else, gets to tell me how and when to heal. My trauma is my own. My experiences are my own. How I heal, when I heal, who and how I forgive, what that process looks like is for me and on my terms. Mine. Not yours, not Torin’s, not Lex’s or Ilyas’”—I huffed petulantly at the mention of their names—“no one else’s but my own.
I am so sad, so disappointed, that you think I would simply Bond with him because he showed up claiming to be my True Bond.
Do you seriously think so little of me?”
Her words cut and I winced as they landed as intended. I pulled my gaze from hers so I could stare at the cold fireplace, not wanting to see the wrath and disappointment in her eyes.
“No, you’ll look at me when I speak to you, Peytor.”
Instantly, my eyes flashed back to hers.
“I love you, Peytor. That has not, nor will it change. Not unless you continue to belittle me and my feelings. I understand you have your own . . . reservations. But you cannot take your own trauma out on me. That’s just not fair.”
I grunted in agreement, shuffling uncomfortably in the chair.
“I don’t know what is going to happen. I don’t know if I’m going to Bond Lex. If that’s something that I want to happen then of course you’ll be part of the conversation, Peytor. Ultimately, it is my decision, but I would never exclude you from something that directly involves you.”
My shoulders sagged as I held my head in my hands, letting Folami’s words and reassurance wash over me even as her words stripped me bare.
“I’ve been spending more time with Lex and Ilyas, getting to know them, and I plan to continue doing so. You should as well,” she commanded not unkindly.
“I don’t know if I want to get to know them, Fo,” I mumbled into my palms.
“And why is that? If we are to join their Bonded group—”
“But it wouldn’t be me joining, would it?
” I raised my head from my hands to stare at her, sadness etched into the lines on my face and hanging heavy in my voice.
“Yes, you and I could—would—still be together, if you would have me. But I could never join that Bonded group. Lex is a Pain and Pleasure Mage. I am an Air Vessel. The compatibility is just not . . . there.”
Realization widened Folami’s eyes before they softened.
“You’re worried I would leave you.”
“Yes,” I confirmed bluntly. “I’m worried that you’ll get to know both of them, that whatever is happening in your soul right now will only pull you closer to them and away from me.
It’s selfish, I know that. You and him have a chance at a connection that Mages and Vessels pray for, but it’s something I will never experience. Not with the woman I love, anyway.”
Folami pressed her lips together, her brows drawing down over her eyes in thought. At last, she sank into the armchair opposite me and crossed one leg over the other.
“What a pair we make,” she mused, and I laughed humorlessly.
“Perhaps, in time, we could all grow to love each other,” Folami said offhandedly, her long, dark fingers tracing abstract patterns in the chair’s fabric. I couldn’t help but hear the hope in her voice.
I sighed deeply, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to wrangle it into submission.
“Perhaps,” I relented, thinking of my immediate attraction to both men. You need to get to know both men in order to make an informed decision and I will do what I can, if that is what you want.”
Folami nodded once, her expression guarded yet hesitantly hopeful.
I slapped my hands against the armrests before pushing to a stand with a slight groan.
“Then that is what will happen. For now, let’s go bathe then rest. Tomorrow will undoubtedly be another busy and . . . filled day.”
I held my hand out to Folami, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when she immediately placed her palm on top of mine.
We walked hand in hand to the bathroom, both of us silent as we filled the tub and undressed.
The silence continued while we bathed and even when she sank wordlessly onto my cock after I coaxed every ounce of pleasure from her flesh.
Folami fell asleep easily in my arms that night, her breaths even and peaceful, but through it all I couldn’t shake the feeling of the Pleasure Mage’s eyes on me and what all of it meant.