Chapter 39 Faylinn
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Faylinn
Comforting heat surrounded my body, my torso encased by strong, immovable arms. Warm breath fanned across my neck, causing goosebumps to erupt over the entirety of my naked skin.
The Bond thrummed happily in my chest as the heartbeat pressed against my back thumped in time with my own.
I sighed, burrowing deeper into the cloudlike sheets that smelled faintly of tobacco and smoke.
This . . . this must be the ether.
As a general rule, I hated cuddling. I overheated, and my skin would stick with sweat before the day even started.
But this?
I could do this every day for the rest of my life.
The arms around me tightened, pulling me closer into Rohak’s hard body until we were pressed flush against one another. I wiggled, trying to find a comfortable way to use Rohak’s arm as a pillow, and barely contained a small gasp when I felt his sizable erection pressed firmly against my ass.
His hips rutted lazily against me in an off-cadence rhythm as if he were performing the action subconsciously.
I bit my lip and pressed my ass back with each of his thrusts, relishing in the friction. My skin heated, and arousal made my core throb at the thought of him inching my leg up just enough to slide inside . . .
Rohak’s hips punched forward hard, and I gasped, loud enough that he stilled completely, his arms loosening as he realized our compromising position.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, voice thick and raspy from sleep, sending shivers down my skin. Rohak, ever the gentleman, mistook my response as a reaction to the sudden cold air that surrounded me once he removed himself completely.
“You can come back,” I said meekly, refusing to look behind me in fear of rejection. My fingers twined with a loose strand in the blanket as I felt him pause in silence.
Ever so slowly, Rohak eased his weight back onto the bed and turned so his front faced my back once more. Instead of pulling me into his body, however, he only reached out one large, calloused hand and set it lightly on my exposed arm, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.
The touch was delicate and hesitant, as if he were exploring my skin for the first time. I pushed backward incrementally, seeking his heat.
“Faylinn,” Rohak growled in warning as my ass made contact with his hard cock once more.
“Just hold me, Rohak,” I whispered. “It’s good for the Bond.”
Rohak’s palm stilled on my shoulder with those last words, and I internally winced as I felt his relaxed shields hardening once more. It was like a knife to the heart, but necessary if I had any hope of rejecting him until the time was right.
I tried relaxing into my Bonded once more, but the previous cocoon of safety and happiness we created while asleep was gone, replaced by cautious indifference.
Burrowing into the pillow, I tried to find sleep again, but I knew it would never come. Not with Rohak’s motions stilted instead of smooth, his body as tense and rigid as an oak tree.
With a sigh, I pulled the covers back, exposing my near-naked body to the cold air of Rohak’s bedroom. My nipples hardened to painful peaks, not just from the sudden temperature change.
A low, almost concealed groan sounded from behind me as I moved to the armoire, making sure to sway my hips just a little extra. It was unfair of me and I knew that—especially since I continually shut down any possibility of physical intimacy—but it was almost as if I couldn’t help myself.
I needed to hear if he was as affected as me.
With slow movements, I raised my arms above my head to grasp my unruly curls and pull them into a bun. My sleep shirt stretched tight across my breasts with the movement, raising enough to show a swath of creamy skin beneath the hem.
“Fuck,” Rohak said quietly, and I smiled softly in satisfaction as I selected a random tunic and pair of pants for the day.
“You’re going to want a dress if you have one,” Rohak commented, voice hoarse but not from sleep.
I turned slowly, arousal flaring once more at the vision of him propped against the headboard, one leg bent so the sheet pooled just enough to cover his cock.
Even with his hands strategically placed to conceal his erection, I could see it tenting the fabric.
“My eyes are up here, Rune Master,” Rohak teased with heat in his voice. Instantly, my gaze shot to his, and I was pulled deep into his emerald orbs, the color more vibrant. There was a magnetism to him, and not one just manufactured by our Bond.
No, that is pure attraction.
“Why do I need a dress today?”
Rohak’s smile lit his whole face.
“You have a visitor.”
Instantly, I frowned. Any type of visitor who required me to wear a dress was not one I usually wanted to see.
“Ellowyn is here. She wants you to accompany her while she shops for a wedding dress.”
I squealed much louder than I anticipated, causing Rohak to flinch.
“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized hastily, flinging open the armoire once more and pulling out a dark green dress with so much force, the hanger fell to the floor.
Rohak’s deep, amused chuckle followed me into the bathroom while I hastily donned my gown and washed for the day.
“Wait!” I said, stepping out of the bathroom once I’d finished. “Did you say wedding dress?”
Ellowyn and I strolled arm-in-arm through the streets of Vespera’s middle district, overwhelmed by the intoxicating aroma of sizzling meat slow-roasting on open spits mixed with the heady scent of ground coffee and the occasional floral shop.
The difference between when I’d walked these streets assessing the damage caused by the battle and today was stark.
There were still a few buildings reduced to pure rubble, but the destruction of Vespera was slowly fading into a haunting memory rather than a living nightmare.
Colorful booths blocked the dilapidated structures from view, filling the streets with brightness.
Conversation and laughter floated on the warm breeze, nearly concealing the darkness completely.
“This spot is adorable,” Ellowyn said, a lightness in her expression that was new but unsurprising. Despite her privileged upbringing, it was clear when I met her briefly at her parents’ estate that shadows plagued her every move. Here, though, they were banished, allowing her to shine.
Torin did that, I thought, a smile pulling at my lips as we sank into two wooden chairs, a small table separating us.
“Is this okay?” she asked, suddenly concerned that I wouldn’t approve of her choice for food. I waved her off, easing back in my chair, and turned my face toward the beating sun.
“Perfectly fine,” I admitted quietly, basking in the warmth of not just the day, but of Vespera’s people, who truly gave the city a heart.
To think I almost ruined it all . . . I shook my head, physically clearing the intrusive thought. Rohak didn’t fault me for the attack, and I was learning to forgive myself. It was slow and not something I totally thought I deserved, but I was trying.
“Good afternoon misses.” I blinked groggily at a small voice, turning to see a boy no older than the age of twelve. He was all gangly limbs and floppy hair, not quite grown but not quite small either.
I smiled, happy to see his posture relax slightly.
“What can I get for you both?”
Ellowyn’s gaze slid to me for a moment, and I shrugged.
“You’ve never eaten here?” she asked, and I huffed a laugh.
“Ellowyn, I adore you but certainly you understand that Rohak and I haven’t been visiting small shops and cafés this whole time . . . right?”
The boy snorted in amusement, which only encouraged Ellowyn’s tinkling laugh and a wry smile from me.
“Sorry. It’s just . . . today has felt almost normal, you know? It’s easy to forget for a moment,” she admitted softly, and I hummed in agreement.
“Just get us two of whatever you like best,” I said to the boy.
He nodded before scampering off, leaving us alone once more.
Ellowyn’s gaze had closed off some, turning contemplative.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like your dress?” I teased, attempting to lighten the mood.
Ellowyn sighed, resting her chin in her palm.
“I love the dress,” she said honestly. It was the first dress she’d seen in the first shop we visited.
I’d tried to talk her out of it, to convince her to look at others, but she waved me off, insisting that she really didn’t care what it looked like.
As long as she got to select it and was marrying Torin, she was happy.
I understood the sentiment well.
I’d marry Rohak in our Mage blacks or in a tattered monstrosity if it meant always being his.
“Then what is the matter?” I asked. The boy came back with glasses of water and small shots of espresso before disappearing once more.
Ellowyn sighed, taking the small cup in her hand before sipping tentatively. She grimaced but hid it well before setting the cup back on the table again.
“That’s strong,” she coughed, and I laughed, taking a healthy sip.
“It’s coffee from the Southern Territories. Of course it’s strong,” I said. I still never made my own—especially after the fiasco with Torin—but I enjoyed drinking it periodically.
“Can I ask you something?” Ellowyn blurted. I nodded as I set my cup down, mirroring Ellowyn’s posture as she leaned back in her chair once more.
“Peytor’s here with me,” she began, and I nodded slowly, already having seen her brother. He was an emotional and mental mess, and Ellowyn had dragged him with us for the first half of the day. Peytor had bowed out after she purchased her dress, citing complaints of a ‘headache.’
“Do you think I should take him to see our parents?”
The question was completely unexpected. I was certain Ellowyn was going to address why Peytor wasn’t acting like himself, but perhaps that was too personal an invasion. Or maybe this was truly what was plaguing my friend.
“What are you hoping to accomplish with that?” I asked as the boy came back, giving each of us a plate of chicken served with a variety of sauces and a flatbread.
The scents were almost overwhelming, and I groaned as I bit into the warm flatbread stacked with chutney and meat, flavors bursting across my tongue.
“Good, right?” Ellowyn asked. “It’s the one thing Torin still appreciates from his southern heritage. He asks the Lishahl cook to make something like this once a week. They can never get the flavors just right, but at least they try.”
I hummed as we lapsed into silence, both of us too enraptured by the delicious lunch.
“I think he has a right to know,” Ellowyn finally said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “They are truly his parents and, despite the fact that they will die in those cells, I think he deserves to know who they are—make peace with them if he needs to.”
I swirled the last of my bread in a spicy sauce, licking my fingers to catch anything residual.
“And if he wants them freed? Thinks they’re deserving of forgiveness?”
Ellowyn’s features darkened before smoothing once more.
“Then there will just need to be stipulations announced ahead of time. They’re not leaving those cells, Fay. Not for me, not for him, not for anything. Rotting in the dungeon is the only mercy I’ll bestow upon them.”
I said nothing as we rose from our seats and I deposited a few coins on the table—more than enough for our food and drinks. Perhaps it was the endearing qualities of the boy or the lingering sense of responsibility I felt that their lives were upended because of my decisions.
“Do you think it will help him?” I asked, looping my arm with Ellowyn’s once more as we left the middle district, heading toward the Academy.
Ellowyn answered without hesitation. “Yes. I do. Maybe it will help him find a way to parse through his emotions with . . . everything else, too.”