34. Civilizing
CIVILIZING
ELENA – RYTHAR’S FORTRESS IN THE GREEN REACH
Impatient diversions with Rythar sounded fantastic, but I almost ruin everything after we land. I wince climbing out of the warship. My muscles have had time to stiffen.
Rythar sweeps me back to our room, then paces, hands balled at his sides.
“The High Lord called us away before I could tend to your wounds,” he says.
“I should have healed you before I ever touched you. I took you selfishly. And I was going to do it again.” He runs a hand over his face.
“I should have insisted you complete a regenerative pod cycle before bringing you to the High Lord.”
“No.” My voice is sharper than intended, and I regret it immediately. I wanted him badly in the jungle. The mate bond pulled at me so hard, but it was more than that. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse. I didn’t even notice until we got back here.”
His jaw ticks. The scar there jumps. He turns away, hands gripping the edge of the table by the window. “You are too stubborn.”
“I’m not so weak I can’t wait,” I say, quieter now.
He looks at me then, his eyes burning again. I can see he wants to argue, to drag me to the regenerative pod, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes to stand over me, taking in the bruises on my wrists, the cuts at my brow. His fingers hover, almost touching.
I arch a brow. “You can look, or you can do something. But you’re making me nervous.”
He grunts and sinks to his knees in front of me, lifts my foot, and examines the bruising pooled under the big toenail. The touch is gentle, absurdly so given the size of his hands. He moves up my leg, eyes tracking each mark left by Vorak’s ropes. When he reaches my hip, he stops.
“Here,” he says, voice low. “This needs treatment.” He exhales and sits back on his heels. The mate bond hums between us, a taut wire vibrating in my chest.
I don’t want to be in a medical pod or anywhere without him. I want to be alone with him.
“Can we go to the pool?” The words slip out before I think them through, but they sound perfect to me. “The one in the mating chamber?”
For a second, he just blinks, as if the idea never crossed his mind. Then his eyes darken, and the tension in the room shifts. The ache in my hip is replaced by something hotter, more immediate.
“We can heal together,” I say, letting the suggestion hang.
He stands, towers over me, but the look on his face is not anger anymore. It’s hunger. “Yes,” he says. “We will.”
He scoops me into his arms. The mate bond is a live wire, every nerve ending buzzing with proximity. I nestle into his chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat hammering in time with mine.
The fortress remains on heightened alert. Every corridor is manned, every archway guarded. The warriors posted at the doors snap to attention, weapons ready, eyes averted as we pass.
The door to the mating chamber opens with a hiss of negative pressure.
Inside, the air is warm, thick with the scent of flowers this time. The water from the pool reflects the ceiling in rippling patterns across the walls. The pool’s surface steams gently.
Rythar sets me down at the edge, but doesn’t let go.
I touch the edge of the pool with my toe, hissing at the heat. “You first,” I say, but he only grins.
He strips off his armor, then his shirt, tossing them to the floor. I want to run my tongue over every scar. He steps into the pool like he’s descending from the heavens, water lapping against his muscled form. He turns back to me, hand extended.
I undress slowly as he watches, eyes molten with want.
When I join him, the water soothes as it inches up my body.
We rest on the ledge at the deep end, steam curling off our shoulders, the heat of the water seeping through. The cuts on my hip and arm soften. The bruise on my throat fades away with all the rest of it.
Rythar pulls me close, hands skimming my flanks in a touch that is both assessment and apology. His cock is thick and growing hard against my thigh, but for once, desire is not the first thing in the room.
“The bond is stronger in this room.”
I nod, forehead pressed to his chest.
We hold each other for a while as all soreness drains away. The only sound is the lap of water against stone as the water does its work.
Eventually, I pull back. My eyes search his face for answers as another thread of worry draws taut.
“We need to talk,” I say.
His arms tense, but he doesn’t let go. “Talk.”
I glance at the door. It’s sealed, but I can’t be sure of secrecy anymore. “This isn’t for witnesses. Just us.”
He nods once, grave, as the water laps between us. "The High Lord can't hear you speak aloud in here," he murmurs.
"They didn't want me dead," I say. "Vorak wanted to break me when I wouldn't submit.
And the High Lord let it happen." The steam curls between us.
I press my back against the warm stone edge of the pool.
"They lured you out. Timed the attack so you'd be away from the fortress, then made sure the jungle was crawling with enough threat that you couldn't get back. Or they thought you couldn't."
His grip on my waist goes iron. He knew this already. Now he knows I know it.
"The High Lord knows something is happening between Sophia, Maya, and me.
Something the Stone did to us that he can't control.
Handing me to Vorak was a test. If I broke, Vorak keeps me.
If I didn't, the High Lord got to observe me up close.
" I sink lower in the water, letting the heat settle my nerves.
"Either way, Vorak was going to lose Sophia.
The High Lord couldn't let her connection to Maya sit unmonitored. Now he has her where he wants her."
A muscle twitches in his jaw. He breathes in slowly, the water barely rippling around his chest. "High Lord Jarrett does not tolerate a loss of control.
And there is something you should know. I told him about the projection that used his image.
I don't think he knew about it. Someone dared to impersonate him. That is a breach he cannot overlook."
"Then there's someone else involved."
"Yes," Rythar says. The pool is quiet except for the soft lap of water. "The Stone gave you this gift. Perhaps it was a mistake."
I snort. "Nothing's perfect. Not even magic rocks."
He grunts a bitter laugh. "The stability of Xytheos was my primary drive until you. I assume the other rulers feel the same about their brides."
"What happened when rulers were given Starfallen brides before?"
He pulls me closer, my back against his chest, his arms around me in the warm water. "It is like Jarrett said. This is unprecedented. The Stone never gave brides to rulers before. In a thousand years, the Stone judged no one worthy."
My eyebrows lift. Every New Terran woman with me was matched with a ruler. "Then why us?"
He pauses. “The Stone’s reasoning is not given.
I assumed it was because you were all a strong genetic match to the superior genetic engineering of the rulers.
” One corner of his mouth lifts. “After spending time with you, I think it must be that none of my warriors would have been up to the task of civilizing you.”
My mouth drops. “Civilizing me? I’ve been civilizing you!”
Rythar narrows his eyes. “You prove my point. You are on Xytheos. It is my responsibility to teach you our ways. I had heard the Council believed that some of us may not be successful with our difficult brides.”
“And you?” I say primly. “Are you giving up on me?”
He levels his gaze at me. “I enjoy a challenge,” he growls.
“They underestimated you,” I say. “They underestimated both of us.”
His eyes burn into mine, then drop to my lips. “I have never underestimated you.”
I run my fingers over his chest. “Good.”
He lifts me so I straddle his lap as he sits on the ledge in the pool. I want him in me. The pull is like a tidal wave under my skin. My cuts and bruises, already faded in the healing pool, now vanish under the rush of heat, the promise of safety, the violence of wanting to live.
The heat of the pool has nothing on the heat I feel for his body.
Rythar’s eyes are dark as he adjusts me, cupping my bottom. "Tell me you will stop reaching for the other Starfallen." He says it like a male who already knows the answer.
“I can’t tell you that. I can’t control it. And you know,” I say, voice hoarse. “It gets worse. They’ll all be after me now, anyway, for the antivenom. The Council, the High Lord, every ruler.”
His hands splay wide on my ribs, thumbs tracing the fading bruises. “They would not dare. Not after what I did to Vorak.”
I snort, biting his earlobe. “Underestimation is deadly.”
He growls, hips pressing up, cock hard and full against my belly. He’s had enough talking.
So have I. Losing myself in his physicality sounds perfect right now.
He cups my bottom, spreads me wider, pulls me flush against him. His mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing the spot where the bruises have healed in the pool.
He kisses me, tongue inside my mouth, hands kneading the meat of my thighs, body pinning me to the warm wall of the pool. I push back, fingers digging into his back, stroking up to his neck, pulling him closer even as I try to wrestle him under the water.
He laughs, wild, then bites my shoulder lightly, teeth scraping as he slides lower.
I gasp as his head dips underwater and his teeth continue their path.
He trails kisses along my skin, then lifts me up to set me on the lip of the pool.
His eyes move over every inch of me. His hands come up between my parted thighs.
He pushes them further apart, exposing me to the warm water as he strokes me between my legs.
The air is thick with humidity and sex. His scent wraps around me, pulling me deeper into the haze. His eyes are on only me.
“You are perfect,” he growls. His hands grip my hips as his stiff length twitches.