Chapter 7 – Irishen
Irishen kept one eye on the road and another on sleeping Wayla. It was long past midnight; she had worn herself out with endless water displays. Her control and precision amazed Irishen even when he knew what she was. There was water control and then there was the stuff Wayla had done.
He drove slowly. Salis had floored the gas and probably boosted the speed with his powers to unnatural levels to get so far that quickly. Irishen had to admit that the angel was a better driver than he was. It would be early morning before they would be back at the Academy grounds.
Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he pulled up Justin’s number and shot him a text. No matter what shit hit the fan with the Powerhouses, he wasn’t going to add to it by keeping Wayla’s location a secret. At least not now that she was going back.
When no reply sounded on his phone, Irishen let out a frustrated growl and dialed Salis’s number. Thanks to Elena’s antics, they had elevated each other to speed dial status. Salis picked up after the first ring.
“We are heading back,” Risha said.
“Is she all right?” Salis sounded worried.
Possessiveness threatened to lift its head once again, but Irishen stamped it down. Firstly, there was nothing like that going on between Wayla and Salis. He had seen it with his own eyes.
Secondly, he knew better than to act out like a caveman, no matter how much he wanted to yell ‘mine’ to every male who looked at her too long.
And thirdly, Wayla would never settle with just one partner. He would be leagues ahead of the others if he learned to share nicely and didn’t make it a problem for her.
Unlike some idiots he knew.
“She’s sleeping,” he replied to Salis. “It will take us a couple of hours to drive back.”
“Okay, I’ll let Di and the others know,” Salis said. When the silence on the line held a little too long, he added, “Maybe stop for a healthy breakfast before you bring her home. She really doesn’t function that well when she’s hungry.”
“Duly noted. I’ll make sure she eats before we come over.”
“Good. See you later, your highness.” Salis ended the call.
“Fucking angel,” Risha muttered as he put the phone down.
“No killing Salis,” Wayla mumbled sleepily. He glanced over and saw her blinking owlishly.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Mm, okay.” She was out between one breath and the next.
Risha chuckled. If only she would follow instructions that easily all the time. He turned his attention back to the darkened road and let his thoughts flow.
There was this pull he felt toward Wayla that he couldn’t fight against. Not that he had tried that hard, but even if he had, Irishen doubted that he could have stayed away for long.
It was different than his pull to Hellion. Staying away from the Prince of Hell had hurt his feelings and ego, not torn his insides to pieces. He was old enough now to know and admit that part of their downfall had been due to ego. His and Hellion’s both.
Two young princes, adamant that each knew the best of what was right and needed doing. Two hot heads running on hormones and high from sticking it to their families. Yeah. They’d been idiots. Instead of fighting together, they had fought each other when the trouble came.
The Lord of Hell wasn’t happy about his progeny slumming it with a mere ice elemental, prince or not. He had made his displeasure known in the form of assassins and threats.
Irishen’s own family hadn’t been any happier, despite Hellion’s higher status. It hadn’t been clear at the time that he would become the heir, but as a prince, he was destined to pair up with another elemental for a political alliance.
And then there were the secrets. When the line of succession shifted from his aunt to him, he hadn’t told anyone. He had wanted to hold on to his life, not become an heir smothered under responsibilities and demands.
He had hidden his growing powers until one magnificent fight with Hellion had made him lose control and it all spilled out in one uncontrolled burst. Hellion hated being kept out of the loop with a vehemence.
He had always felt entitled to other people’s secrets while he kept his own.
Realizing that Irishen had kept something from him had been the final straw in their fraught relationship.
His family had been elated at the breakup, but Irishen had refused to sign any alliances.
Diana had been his rebound. Total opposite of Hellion.
Not strong, no political significance in her family.
She was quiet and kind. Their relationship had been so fucking lopsided, where Diana gave and he took.
He hadn’t loved her. He might have imagined his feelings were stronger at the time, but the ease with which his family ultimately tore them apart told it all. He hadn’t fought for her, and Di had let him go. After that, he hadn’t cared about who he ended up with.
Elena’s family had been a smart political match.
Had been.
Irishen shook his head and glanced at the woman slumbering next to him. No matter what his family would come up with next, they could eat sleet. He wasn’t letting Wayla go.
A small smile played on his lips as he thought about his mother or sisters trying to rattle Wayla.
She wouldn’t bat an eye at his family’s antics.
Quietly, Irishen snorted. Like his family would even whisper a sideways word about a stormbringer heir.
They would be beyond excited about the political implications after the dust with Elena settled.
A faint whine rose from Wayla, and her brow furrowed. He reached over to smooth the frown away. When she nuzzled against his palm, he twisted so he could keep the contact.
That was another thing that made his heart beat faster.
She relished the touch of his ice. He still had blue balls from the way she had strained between his table of ice and him.
All those little moans and whimpers when he caressed her with ice and how she had pushed closer, not pulled away from his cold touch.
It was the first time he didn’t need to keep his nature in check and the feeling was addictive. She could take what he gave and give back just as good. If push came to shove, he wasn’t sure he would win against her.
At least not after she embraced her powers fully and learned to harness them.
And if he was totally honest with himself, the part that turned him on the most was the moment when she let him have dominance over her. She could have fought her way off that table, and he would have let her go, but she had chosen to stay.
His little morsel was a delicious contradiction that he couldn’t wait to figure out.