Chapter 12
LYRA
With little else to do but wait, I utilized Terran’s bathing chamber, marveling at the display of lights and coziness of a space even the grandest of Aetherian bathing chambers could hardly rival.
After dressing, I wandered his bedchamber, enjoying the soft, thick woven rug beneath my feet which softened the blackstone floor.
I stared a bit too long at his large canopy bed which stood at the chamber’s center, framed in dark wood with clean, strong lines.
How many had he taken in that bed over the many years he’d been alive?
Were they all Gyorian? Likely so. Pulling my thoughts away from what it would be like to ride one such as Terran, or find myself beneath his thick frame as he attempted to dominate me, Gyorians known for liking control both in the bedchamber and outside of it, I perused the rest of his chamber.
Along one wall, shelves held maps, old tomes, and a carved box bearing the royal crest. It was a warrior’s room, aye.
But not an unfeeling one. Terran’s bedchamber was, in fact, so different from the wings of the Gyorian palace where I had stayed previously, it was difficult to believe they were one and the same.
The door slammed open.
I turned, unsurprised to see Terran filling its frame.
“Do you plan to dislocate every door in the palace? Or are you capable of opening one as most do, without pulling it from its hinges?”
Closing it, he inspected the very much “in place” hinges, making his point. Covered in dirt, he strode past me toward the bathing chamber.
“You would do well to hide yourself to the solar for a time. Supper will be arriving shortly.”
Hardly glancing at me, he stopped at the bathing chamber’s entrance. “Unless, of course, you wish to hide yourself in here. With me.”
“I would,” I lied, pretending I’d not imagined him in that tub with me, “but I’ve already bathed.”
“As I can see. But ’tis much more enjoyable with a partner than alone. Perhaps you need another?”
This seduction had become a game between us. One I did not intend to lose.
What will you do when I call your bluff, Prince Terran?
Pretending to think it over, I headed to the solar, giving him a moment to disarm. But just as he disappeared under the archway’s curtain, I spun and followed him inside instead.
Heart pounding, I entered the chamber as water began to fill the cavernous tub.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I said, startling him. “Perhaps a second bath will do after all. It was quite a luxurious experience, one I would not have expected here. In Gyoria.”
Eyes narrowed, he watched me, clearly not believing my actions would match my words.
How far will you go to prove a point, Lyra?
With him? Too far, likely.
Without looking away, Terran took off his tunic once again.
This time, as he began to remove the linen shirt beneath it, I didn’t stop him.
Instead, I unfastened my belt. Every bit of skin he revealed was tanned.
And muscled. Like most Gyorians, he was large…
Terran’s strength one of his greatest assets.
Rows of ridges on his stomach. His biceps, and shoulders, flexed as he tossed his shirt to the floor.
He was, in a word, glorious.
“Like what you see?” he taunted.
I would not feed an ego that had already been inflated by countless others.
Instead, I used the skills of the graceful Aetherian dancers who enticed and seduced with their slow movements.
Teasing, never giving. Starting with the jeweled pin that held my hair in place, I reached behind my head, and with one long pull, my hair tumbled down around me.
Cleaned, still damp in places, curling in others, it was wild and untamed… perfect for this particular occasion.
He pretended to be unaffected, but Terran was anything but.
He was a competitor, though, and knew the game well.
Somehow flexing every muscle in his chest and arms as he reached for his boot, Terran untied one and then the other.
I watched, heart racing with every movement, as he stood before me in naught but the tight breeches that Gyorian warriors were known for.
And, of course, the thick, muscled legs beneath them.
Summoning every bit of feigned indifference, I ever-so-slowly untied the sash at my waist that held my pale-blue tunic in place.
Terran’s gaze slipped down to my waist as the silken belt was undone.
When he took two steps toward me then, closing the space between us, I held my breath, expecting the one thing I’d wanted from him for some time.
Despite that I should hate him.
Despite his treatment of my people.
Despite my mission here, one that was so much more important than this silly game.
But he didn’t lean into me. Attempt to kiss me. Instead, his hand shot out, Terran grabbing the silk sash before I could stop him. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached for my wrist and, stepping forward, pulled it behind my back.
My fingers immediately itched to wield air to stop him. But remembering what he’d said earlier about not using it in this chamber, I resisted. Even as his finger wrapped around my other wrist and brought it back to join the other, I didn’t stop him.
Terran continued to hold my gaze, imploring… daring.
Stop him, Lyra.
I had every reason to resist as the silk began to thread around my wrists, but instead, I looked up at him, fascinated.
The prince of Gyoria was tying my hands behind my back, and I was letting him.
Standing so close that our bodies were nearly touching, a thrill of anticipation coursed through me as if I hadn’t just summarily lost this game. As if I weren’t on a mission to secure the artifact that could reopen a portal to the human realm.
As if nothing else in Elydor mattered but this moment.
He tightened the sash, and though I could release it—my finger was easily able to summon air currents—I didn’t.
“Aye,” I said suddenly, remembering.
His eyes narrowed quizzically.
“You asked if I liked what I saw.”
Terran reached up to trace the outline of my cheek, his finger surprisingly gentle as it trailed down to my jaw, where he stopped. His thumb touched my lower lip, tugging on it. Parting my lips.
“As do I.” For a change, his tone wasn’t taunting, as if Terran meant the words. “Do you know what I believe, Lyra?” he asked, his voice low and reverberating.
I didn’t respond—at least, not with words.
“I believe you are accustomed to being in control. Of yourself. Of those around you. And that perhaps, just once, you secretly wish to relinquish that control to another. I think, if I were to have you this way in my bed, you’d not only allow it…” He dropped his hand.
I would not mourn its loss.
Terran leaned down to whisper into my ear. “You would enjoy it. Perhaps more than you’ve enjoyed anything in your life.”
My core clenched at his words, at his soft breath as Terran spoke to me.
I would die before confirming anything he’d said, not only out of pride but of ignorance. I’d never played the game quite like this. Taken lovers? Aye. But allowed them to do what Terran suggested? Control me? Nay.
Because he was right. I was in control. Always. It could mean the difference between life and death. And even immortals understood that line was thin.
“Turn around.”
Every bit of me rebelled at his words. At Terran’s commanding tone. I wasn’t his to command, and yet, stupidly, I trusted him not to hurt me.
“Turn. Around.”
His voice was like the sharp edge of the cliffs outside his bedchamber window.
I’d allowed him to tie my hands. If I did as he said, Terran would win much more than this one simple game.
“I will ask just one more time, Lyra. Turn. Around. Now.”
His green eyes blazed.
I turned.
Anticipated.
Cursed myself for a fool.
Then, just as quickly as he’d first reached for me, Terran slipped the sash from my wrists, freeing them. I waited, but he didn’t make any further move. Realizing that was all he meant to do, I turned back.
Words were unnecessary. What would I have said anyway? I hadn’t known, until this very moment, that I wanted to give up control. That such a thing would inflame my senses and make me forget decades of training.
What had I been thinking?
Reaching for my sash, I grabbed it, resisted one last look at the specimen of perfection that was Prince Terran of Gyoria, and stepped toward the archway. It wasn’t until I got back into his bedchamber that I breathed again.
Defeat was a bitter bedfellow, and unless I wanted to get comfortable sleeping with it, I would do well not to play that game with Terran ever again.