27. Ivy
IVY
Ican feel the sun peeking in through the window, ghosting over my skin and bathing me in warmth.
My limbs ache from last night, the remnants of Archer’s touch still lingering across my body.
Apparently, Rejuvenating Ceremonies aren't entirely about getting off, but it seems that's the only way I can handle them.
It's the only way I can handle my magic altogether. It's exhausting and riveting all at once.
Pushing my hair back off my face, I freeze when I feel fingers dance across my skin, and a familiar scent wraps around me, confirming I'm not alone.
Instead of leaning into the touch and losing myself to the warmth, tension takes root. My thoughts from my shower yesterday return, making it clear I'm struggling to balance the lines I'd drawn with moments like these.
How can it be just about needs… wants… magic… sex, if I sleep in their arms and wake to their gentle touches?
As if sensing my thoughts, Archer clears his throat. “Before you go insane, I need you to remember that you insisted last night.”
My eyebrows pinch at his statement as he shifts, plastering his front against my back. The memory is vivid as I recall falling onto the bed and dragging him down with me, tightening my arms around his neck, ensuring he wouldn't leave.
“I was drunk on sex. Don't use my own actions against me,” I state, prying my eyes open and daring to glance over my shoulder at him.
“You used my words against me last night,” he retorts, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I recall his groveling words that indeed played on my tongue last night.
Shifting in his hold, I turn to face him full on. His arms remain around my waist, pinning me against him.
“Maybe I just liked what you had to say,” I murmur, and he scoffs.
“Or maybe you like the sound of me groveling.”
I hum. “I’m not opposed to it,” I admit as he lifts his hand to my cheek, running his thumb across my mouth.
“Do you need me to grovel right now?” he offers, the huskiness to his voice confirming what his words don't entirely say, and I consider the offer. “I’ve groveled with words, but I haven't used action yet,” he adds, and my pulse rings in my ears as goosebumps flutter across my skin.
My world stills, the missing piece I’ve been searching for taking root in my soul.
“What if there were more words I wanted, more specific words?” I clarify, my chest tightening as I dare to walk the tight rope that continues to leave me torn in my mind.
“Like what?” he asks, the uncertainty clear as the air stills between us, like he can sense the question on my lips from simply looking into my eyes without a single word being spoken.
I clear my throat, but it does nothing to alleviate the tension inside me. Connecting to the wave of strength flooding my veins, I embrace the so-called phoenix ego and speak.
“Why did you reject me?”
The want from his embrace is gone as he rears back, shaking his head.
“Ivy,” he rasps, but I'm already over it, lurching away from him as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
I put some much-needed distance between us, silently thankful for the fact that I fell asleep in my clothes last night.
“Anything but that,” he states, and I sigh, rising from the bed with defeat already curling through my veins before the day has even really begun.
Glancing over my shoulder, I let him see the truth in my eyes, not needing his touch to confirm it.
“I’m acutely aware it's the only thing looming over my head when it comes to you. It's the reality that shattered me, and I'm never going to see past it without answers.”
There it is, the truth.
I want to forgive and never forget, just like I told Greta and the girls, and to do that, I have to know, but all I receive is silence as he sits up in bed, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Ivy.” He at least has the decency to hang his head.
“Me too,” I grumble, hurrying to my closet to change.
This might be my space, but I need the air, and I assume kicking him out won't be necessary because he's gonna leave of his own accord. Because it’s easier to do that than give me what I want.
Throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a loose tank, still disheveled, my hair a wry mess, I pause when a shadow casts over the door, and I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against the door frame.
His muscles are tense, his jaw grinding as he speaks. “A meeting has been called,” he states, and I huff, irritation flooding through me.
“When?”
His tongue sticks out, glossing across his lips.
“Now.”
I nod, brushing past him as I move out into my room. “I’ll meet you there,” I state, and he sighs, giving me a pointed look that I'm all too familiar with.
“You know that's not going to happen”, he confirms, and the irritation that floods through my veins is palpable as I narrow my eyes at him.
“Archer,” I start, watching as he hangs his head again, but it’s the way he lifts his hand that confirms his defeat first.
“Baron is on his way.”
Darting out of the Fire Protector dorms, I find Baron leaning against the exterior wall, and I take a moment to inhale the cooler air in hopes of calming my temper as I take him in.
He's wearing black jeans and an even blacker t-shirt that molds around his muscles, as if that's what it was specifically made to do.
His hair is secured at the base of his neck, and that irks me in a way that makes me want to unravel it.
Despite the pointed look on his face, I never thought I would prefer to see him over the others, but I'm resigned to the fact that I can't be left unattended, and when it comes down to it, Archer is the last person I want to see right now.
Without a word, he takes off, and I fall into step at his side.
We walk to the arena this time, in the opposite direction from the location of the last meeting, cutting through campus over by the cliffs. When he comes to a stop, he squeezes the back of his neck before he speaks.
“We've got a few minutes spare, do you mind saying hi to Alaric, so he knows you're okay?” he murmurs, and for the first time this morning, I'm flooded with excitement.
“Of course.”
There’s a new pep in my step as I walk faster at his side until I see the familiar shimmers of Alaric's scales. The smile on my lips as I come face to face with the giant dragon is the most real one I’ve felt in forever.
I don't miss a beat, approaching him and dragging my hand over his scales in comfort. He leans into my touch as I rest my forehead against the side of his face.
“You seem sad,” he states, and I sigh.
“Not sad, just resigned,” I admit, acutely aware that I'm able to show more vulnerability to a fire-breathing dragon than I am to my hated mates.
“Why?” he asks, and I shake my head, closing my eyes as I run my hands over his scales. I don’t know who is taking more comfort from it: me or him.
“It's fine.”
“Ivy,” he warns, and I exhale.
“I’m okay, Alaric, I promise. I've just been acutely aware that I feel like I've been missing something, and when I finally figure out what it is I’m missing, I'm denied the information when I ask,” I admit, hating that everything I've been dealing with inside comes down to such a simple statement, like it hasn't wreaked havoc on my body for years.
The fact that it's solvable with such a simple piece of information destroys me even more.
“Tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you,” he insists, and I lean back, smiling up at him as I pry my eyes open.
“It's not worth any more friction, Alaric. Not for you.”
“If there is friction, it's not her fault.”
I rear back at the feminine voice in my mind. It catches me off guard, and I look past Alaric to find another familiar dragon, only this one is draped in orange scales.
“Lucky?”
“There's my favorite girl.”
“Hey, I can't believe you're here. It's so good to see you. You're right, it's definitely not my fault, but—”
“She can hear me?” Lucky interjects, snapping her attention to Alaric, and I’m pretty sure I just saw him roll his eyes.
A dragon.
Rolling his eyes.
I shake my head in disbelief as Alaric scoffs.
“She is a phoenix,” he grumbles, and smoke comes out of Lucky's nose as she stands off with the dragon beside me.
“How long have you been talking to her without telling me?” she bites, and Alaric huffs in response.
“That's none of your business.”
“Yes, it is. She's my rider's sister.”
“And she's my rider's mate,” Alaric retorts.
“Don't say that like it trumps me, like your rider has known her as long as Hugo has.”
“Mates trump everything,” Alaric sasses, and Lucky slams her claw on the ground with a huff.
“Not when they reject them, they don’t.”
“What's going on? I don't fully understand right now. I can only hear Alaric,” Baron interrupts, pulling me from the back and forth spell between the dragons, and I stumble back. “What is she saying that I don't know?” he clarifies, and my eyebrows pinch.
“You can't hear her?”
He shakes his head. “I can only hear my dragon, the one I'm assigned to. It seems only phoenixes can communicate with whatever dragons they want.”
“I’m wondering whether that's a good thing or not right now,” I admit.
“We can still hear you,” they grumble in sync, and I scoff.
“I know, you pair of sassy pants,” I retort, and Baron snickers. “What's so funny?” I blurt defensively, and he shrugs.
“You are just too wholesome and too beautiful to be berating a pair of fierce dragons.”
I relax at his words, my cheeks heating as I flick my hair over my shoulder and smile.
“I can be as fierce as I want to be.”
“And she's a phoenix,” Alaric repeats with a tone of boredom at the fact he's having to repeat that same statement, and I cover my mouth, hiding a smile.
“Are you guys coming in?” Sax hollers, and I frown, searching for the building he’s referring to, only to find him peeking his head out from behind a rock.
That's new.
Clearing my throat, I take a backward step, waving at both of the dragons before I follow after him.
“Seriously, what was she saying?” Baron asks, and I shake my head.
“You don't want to know.”