Chapter 44 Theron
THERON
The attic smells faintly of wood smoke and iron. Even up here, tucked beneath the sloping rafters of the smith’s house, I can still smell the forge clinging to my skin—the heat of it, the sweat, the sharp tang of worked metal. All the scents of home—it should comfort me.
But it doesn’t…because she’s here.
Elowen lies beside me in the narrow bed we’ve shared for the past week, her back to me, her body a warm, tempting curve beneath the thin blanket. I can feel the heat of her even without touching her…can hear the soft rhythm of her breathing…can smell her warm, feminine scent.
Gods, her scent is driving me insane.
It’s intense tonight—more than it’s ever been. Sweet and sharp and unmistakable. Need…want…arousal so strong it curls in the back of my throat and settles low in my gut, making me hard despite every effort I make to stay in control.
“She needs us.” My Drake’s voice is a low, insistent growl in the back of my mind. “She’s hurting. You can smell it. Why do you deny her?”
Because I have to. Because it hurts too much to let myself get close to her again, the way I did when I was tasting her.
I know I’ll never be able to Bond her to me, I know she’s going to forget me—erase me—the moment she works the Time Weaving spell.
And I’m also afraid I’ll go too far—that I’ll lose control and change the color of her eyes.
The pain and uncertainty just aren’t fucking worth it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and turn onto my back, staring up at the rough-hewn beams overhead, trying to focus on anything other than the soft shift of her body beside me. The whisper of cloth against skin…the faint hitch in her breathing that tells me she’s awake.
She hasn’t slept well in days. Neither have I. Every night is the same. I lie here, rigid with restraint, while my Drake claws at the inside of my mind, demanding I roll over, pull her into my arms, and take what he insists is already ours.
“Bond her,” he growls. “She’s ours. She belongs with us.”
No.
I grit my teeth. She doesn’t belong to me—she belongs to herself…to her Goddess…to the life she’s trying to get back to.
And if I let myself touch her again—really touch her—I won’t be able to let her go.
That’s the truth of it.
It has nothing to do with strength or control or even fear of frightening her—though that fear is there too, sharp and real. I can still see the look on her face when I showed her my Drake’s shaft. The uncertainty…the flicker of terror she tried to hide.
What would happen if she realized what it really means to Bond with a Drake Shifter? If she found out that she wouldn’t just be taking me—but my Drake as well?
I swallow hard, my throat tight at the thought.
She’d be fucking horrified.
And if I push her—if I scare her—I’ll lose her anyway. I don’t want our final days together to be spent that way. Better to let her go cleanly when the time comes. Better to keep my distance now than risk breaking something fragile and beautiful between us.
Even if it’s killing me to stay away from her. Even if every instinct I have is screaming to turn over, gather her close, and tell her to forget the spell…forget the past. Stay with me. Marry me.
Gods.
I could almost say it. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, heavy and dangerous.
But I don’t…I can’t.
Beside me, she moves in bed again and I hear a soft, broken sound. For a moment, I think I imagined it. But then it comes again—a quiet hitch of breath, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone trying very hard not to cry.
My chest tightens painfully.
“She’s hurting.” My Drake sounds accusing.
I know. Gods, I know. I’ve known for days.
I can smell it on her skin, taste it in the air between us. The curse is riding her hard, pushing her body into a constant state of need she can’t escape.
And I’ve done nothing. Just laid here night after night, pretending I don’t hear the way her breathing changes…pretending I don’t know how badly she’s suffering.
Because I’m afraid—not of her, but of myself.
Another soft sob breaks from her, quickly stifled, and that’s it—I can’t take it anymore. I turn over to face her.
The movement is abrupt, the mattress dipping under my weight as I reach for her without thinking. My hand finds her shoulder through the thin fabric of her night shift, warm and trembling beneath my palm.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask softly.
She startles at the touch, her body going rigid before she turns her head slightly, just enough that I can see the shine of tears on her cheeks in the dim light filtering through the small attic window.
“I…I’m sorry,” she whispers, swiping at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
My heart twists hard in my chest. Gods, she’s beautiful.
Even like this—tear-streaked and vulnerable—she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her hair is a tangle of dark red curls around her face…her lips soft and parted…her eyes bright with unshed tears. She’s in so much pain.
And I’m the one hurting her.
“It’s all right,” I murmur, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Hey…look at me.”
She hesitates, then turns a little more, her gaze meeting mine.
“Are you scared about tomorrow?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. “About the Fire Demon?”
She shakes her head, her lower lip trembling.
“No. Or…that’s not all of it.”
I already know why she’s crying—Gods help me, I know. But I ask anyway.
“What is it then?” I ask anyway, my voice rougher now.
“It’s…it’s the curse,” she admits, her voice barely more than a breath. “It’s so bad lately.”
Her words hit me like a blow.
I can smell it on her—stronger than ever, thick and desperate and sweet. It fills my head…my lungs…my blood. My Drake surges at the scent, a low, possessive rumble echoing through me.
“She needs us. Take her. Take her NOW!”
His desire is so strong it almost makes me lose control.
It would be so easy to end her pain—so easy just to roll her under me and spread her thighs…
to fill her sweet little pussy with my cock.
She wouldn’t resist—she’d welcome me in, I know it.
I could end the pain for both of us…and claim her as my own.
But what would happen if I changed the color of her eyes and got her pregnant? Well, then she’d be trapped with me, wouldn’t she? And then what would she do if she found out she’d have to Bond with my Drake as well?
No—I can’t do it. I’m not a fucking monster.
My hand tightens on her shoulder before I can stop myself.
“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” I rasp.
And I am. Gods, I am. But I don’t move closer…don’t pull her into my arms. Don’t do anything except sit there like a coward while she looks at me with those wide, hopeful eyes.
“Please,” she whispers. “Can’t you help me?”
My Drake roars.
“Yes. Take her. Give her what she needs!”
I close my eyes for a moment, fighting him—fighting myself—before I force them open again and meet her gaze. I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, baby—I can’t.”
The look on her face—Gods. Confusion…hurt…a flicker of something that looks dangerously close to despair.
I force myself to keep going before I lose my nerve.
“My Drake…” I trail off, my jaw tightening. I drag a hand through my hair, struggling to find the words. “He wants you.”
“He…wants me?” She looks confused.
“Too much,” I add roughly. “I’m afraid if I touch you…” I break off, shaking my head.
I can’t say it. Can’t tell her what he really wants. How badly he wants to mount her, to take her, to claim her completely. How close I already am to losing control.
When I first met her, it was easy to give her what she needed without going too far.
But that was before my Drake got so involved—before he started demanding to Bond with her.
His sexual needs combined with my own are so strong I don’t trust myself anymore.
I can’t be certain that I won’t go too far.
It’s better not to start something I might not be able to stop.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. Because it’s not enough—it will never be enough.
I pull my hand away from her as if the contact burns, pushing myself up from the bed before I can change my mind. Before I can give in and do exactly what she’s asking—what I want more than anything.
“I have to go,” I mutter, not looking at her now because I know if I do, I won’t be able to leave. “It’s not safe if I stay.”
Not safe for her—not safe for either of us.
I don’t wait for her to answer. If I do, I’ll stay. And if I stay, I’ll break and do something we’ll both regret.
I cross the small attic in three long strides, grabbing my boots and shoving them on without bothering to lace them properly. The wooden floor is cool beneath my feet, the air sharp against my skin as I wrench open the door.
For a moment, I hesitate. My hand tightens on the frame, my chest aching so badly it feels like something inside me is tearing apart.
“Go back.” My Drake’s voice is quieter now, almost…pleading. “She’s hurting.”
I know. Gods, I know.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then force them open again and step out into the narrow hallway, pulling the door closed behind me before I can turn back. The house is silent at this hour, the only sound the faint creak of settling wood and the distant whisper of wind outside.
I lean my head back against the wall, dragging in a long, shaky breath.
I hate this. Hate myself. Hate the Drake inside me that makes everything so much harder than it should be.
If I were normal—if I were just a man without a huge, hungry beast inside me, maybe I could give her what she needs without fear. Maybe I wouldn’t have to walk away from the one thing I’ve ever wanted.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I push off the wall and head for the stairs, needing air—space—distance before I do something I can’t take back.
Before I go back to her. Before I lose myself completely and take her.
Because if I touch her again…I know I won’t stop.