Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Keeran swallowed heavily—the urge to turn back, grab her by the neck, and claim her mouth roaring through him.
The other side of him seethed, its desire a monstrous, twisted thing.
It longed to punish her for talking to him that way, and gods, he wanted to as well.
Every muscle bunched with the effort of controlling it, of forcing himself to walk towards the horses instead of pushing her to the floor and showing her how torturous pleasure could be.
It wanted to explore every inch of her, learning what she liked just so it could wind her to the point of insanity.
Until he was all she could think about, until he was all she wanted.
He heaved the saddle off his horse, dropping it to the floor with less care than it deserved.
His erection pressed against the restrictive fabric of his trousers, and he was grateful the horses stood between him and Aelia.
He palmed it, trying to push it into a more comfortable position, but even that simple touch sent shockwaves of pleasure shooting through him.
What was it about her that had him feeling this way?
All she’d done was look at him, and he felt more unstable than he had in years, the beast within vying for control, his grip on its leash slipping from his grasp.
He focused on his task, unbridling the horses and slipping on their headcollars, before using one of the blankets in his pack to rub them dry.
He followed the grain of their coats, not allowing himself to think of anything other than wicking off the worst of the moisture that dripped off them onto the stone floor.
He was soaked too, but was beyond the point of caring. By the time his horse was dry and he’d started on Aelia’s, he was back in control, his other side curled and quiet in the recesses of his mind. Only once his thoughts were his own again did he start to let them wander.
Aelia knew what he was. He’d been so careful to keep the worst of himself hidden from her, trying so hard not to scare her, even when she royally pissed him off.
Yet she’d seen right through it. Now that he wasn’t at the mercy of the darker side of him, the memory of her words incited nothing more than a resigned misery.
It wasn’t a surprise that she’d noticed, not really.
Disappointing, sure, but not a surprise.
He was, by his very nature, a monster, and no matter how hard he tried to control it, there would always be a part of him that relished violence.
The darkest sentiments, the most depraved emotions on the spectrum of the human psyche, came as naturally to him as breathing.
Self-loathing slammed into him, the blanket halting its circles over the chestnut coat of Aelia’s horse as shame paralysed him.
Had this been his first time battling such sentiments, he might have needed a moment before he could continue.
But as it was, shame and self-loathing were his constant companions, and the blanket resumed its rhythmic circles with barely a pause.
Keeran’s attention was caught by a soft curse from the other side of the barn, the rain having eased enough for him to hear Aelia struggling with the fire.
She’d positioned herself near a hole in the ceiling, clear of the rain falling through it, but close enough for the smoke to have somewhere to go.
She’d formed a pyramid from some of the wooden debris that littered the abandoned barn, using some stale hay as kindling, yet her fingers seemed to be too cold to handle the flint properly.
Keeran watched her, and the pang of longing he felt had a bitter sting after what she’d said about him, after she’d stepped away from him.
There had been no mistaking the desire she’d felt; it had coursed between them, staining her cheeks a pretty pink that had sent his heart ricocheting around his rib cage. And yet, she’d stepped away.
She struck at the flint clumsily, trembling with the cold. Her clothes clung to her, revealing the impressive curve of muscle she gained from her years logging in Callodosis. Even crouched and shivering, spitting curses at the flint in her hands, she was still strikingly beautiful.
A smile tugged at his lips, despite the heaviness inside him.
That flint was getting even more of a verbal beating than he had.
He took pity on it and, being careful of timing, reached for the magic that wriggled eagerly at the base of his skull, sending sparks skittering into the hay just as she struck the flint.
He teased the fire into taking hold, just enough to get it started before he reined in his magic.
Aelia grinned, looking entirely too pleased with herself, and Keeran huffed a quiet laugh.
He fed the horses some of the grain from the saddle bags, piling some of the old hay near them in case they were hungry enough to try it.
Then he made his way to the fire with his pack slung over one shoulder.
Aelia had been starting to get some food going from the supplies in her bag, but she paused to look up at him as he lowered himself to the floor opposite her, his wet clothes straining against the movement.
Without a word, she reached over to offer him the water skin.
It was a shitty apology, but he wasn’t about to turn down a peace offering, no matter how feeble.
“Thanks,” he grunted, taking it from her and knocking back a few gulps.
Aelia said nothing, but she smiled. Shyly. Keeran had to stop himself from staring at the way it softened her face, the same pink creeping into it as earlier. His heart faltered as she quickly looked away, busying herself with fishing for ingredients. She was nervous, he realised with a jolt.
Before he lost himself in a whirlpool of overthinking, he reached for his own pack and dug out some of his own rations.
“These might help?” he said, offering her the dried mushrooms, herbs, and salt.
“Thanks.” She took them from him, being careful not to touch his hand as she did. “This is going to need all the help it can get.”
Aelia added a few things to the watery soup she had simmering over the fire. He almost had to sit on his hands to stop himself from getting involved; gods forbid he push his luck by offering his help.
Instead, he fetched their bowls and busied himself with collecting more firewood, stacking it in a pile beside the fire.
“At least the storm seems to have passed,” Aelia volunteered, leaning over to sniff the soup and adding a little more salt. As if that was going to help.
The thunder had indeed settled from the bone-rattling boom it had been to a comforting rumble, and the wind no longer howled through the gaps in the wooden slats of the barn walls.
The rhythmic chomping of the horses, the patter of the rain outside, combined with the cheerful snap and crackle of the fire, brought a comforting feel to the derelict barn.
“Just as well. I’m not sure the barn could have withstood much more of it.” He sat down, positioning his pack behind him and leaning back on it. He stretched his legs out, placing his boots as close to the fire as he dared in an attempt to dry them.
Keeran clasped his fingers behind his head, closed his eyes, and arched backwards to stretch out his aching shoulder blades.
He didn’t relish the thought of another whole day in the saddle tomorrow.
When he opened his eyes again, he caught Aelia staring at him, her gaze locked onto where his arms were tense and straining as he stretched.
She snapped her attention back to the soup, using a cloth to pour it from the pot.
Keeran hardly noticed the unappetising way it sloshed into their bowls, lumps of gods only knew what splashing into the brown water.
He was far too preoccupied with that blush that had made an appearance once more.
She must have felt it too, that charge that had crackled between them with more ferocity than the storm raging outside. The thought made him smile quietly to himself as she handed him his bowl.
It quickly vanished as he took his first mouthful. Holy Mother, that was rough.
Feeling her eyes on him, he quickly swallowed, fighting his body’s reflex to immediately bring it back up.
“Mmm,” was all he trusted himself to say when he finally dared lift his gaze to meet hers. Fortunately, it seemed sufficient to pacify her, and she tucked into her own without so much as a grimace.
He looked down at the bowl, full to the absolute brim, and prepared himself for the challenge of finishing it.