Chapter 13
Emillie paused outside the small, makeshift library where she left her sister, Revelie, and Dowager Caldwell, and inhaled long and slow. Her heart thumped. Her chest constricted. Her mind raced.
What if they were all incorrect and Luce meant nothing by all she had done?
Before she could convince herself not to follow through with her plan to speak with Lucet about everything, Emillie charged down the corridor and up the main flight of stairs that led to the set of rooms the lycan and spice merchant family had been allotted upon their arrival at the place they called Auhla.
The mountainside keep, filled to the brim with dhemons, had dozens of bedchambers now packed with upwards of a half dozen bodies.
Across the grounds, smaller buildings were being erected, and as dhemons left the main castle, various rooms were becoming available.
As such, the high fae and Luce had taken one such room while she and Revelie occupied another with a third bed available in the hopes of adding Camilla sooner rather than later.
When she reached the third floor where their chambers were located, Emillie sucked in a deep breath and paused again. They needed to discuss whatever it was that lingered between them, but one question remained: how did Emillie feel about it?
It did not take long for her to answer. If Luce were to laugh in her face, she was not certain she could bear it.
Somehow, the snarky, bitter lycan had clawed her way into Emillie’s heart and buried herself into her every thought.
Even moreso, she had to wager, than Kyra ever did despite their obvious physical connection.
Emillie smoothed out the skirt of the dress she had borrowed from Ariadne and swept over to the appropriate door where she rapt on the wood with a shaking hand.
A heartbeat passed, then the door swung open to reveal Edira.
The high fae’s eyebrows lifted, but she smiled despite appearing as though she had been awoken.
Though the band of spice merchants had shifted their sleep schedule to match Emillie’s for their weeks together on the road, they had begun slipping back into their usual pattern of nightly rests.
“What can I do for you?” Edira asked, leaning a hip on the doorframe. Her long black hair was twisted high on top of her head and mussed from her pillow, and she wore a lighter night shift than when they had been traveling, the warmth of the keep allowing her to sleep without bundling up.
Emillie opened her mouth, grimaced, and closed it.
“Tell her Luce is two doors down,” Pol called sleepily from the depths of the room.
Quieter, yet no less groggy, Haen hissed something in their language that made Pol laugh. Edira cast a withering glare over her shoulder before refocusing on Emillie and pointing to her left. “They’re right. She moved into an open room just there.”
“Why?” She blurted the question without thought, then felt the familiar sensation of heat spreading across her cheeks.
“So many questions,” Pol groaned. “Close the door, Dira!”
A roll of her eyes, and Edira held the door open wider—much to Pol’s chagrin—letting in more of the soft light from the corridor’s lanterns. “She said she prefers to sleep opposite us, so it’s just easier that way.”
That was not what Emillie expected to hear. In fact, she merely continued to gape for a long moment before remembering herself and saying, “Oh. Alright. Thank you.”
“Good night, Em,” Pol called. “Dira, please!”
At that, Edira chuckled, bid Emillie goodnight as well, then closed the door.
Following the high fae’s instructions, Emillie turned and closed the distance to Luce’s room. The nerves of the initial knock being jarred out of her by the new information, she pounded on the lycan’s door with far less quavering.
Yet when Luce appeared, her golden eyes glowing wolfishly in the low light, Emillie’s heart tripped over itself and had her ribcage shuddering in a whole new way.
The lycan was, as always, stunning. Her thick, coiled hair was neatly picked out, and her freshly washed trousers and shirt fit her muscular figure in a way that made Emillie feel very much like a suitor at a ball with how her eyes traveled over the woman’s body all the way down to her bare feet.
“Do you need something?” Luce glanced down the corridor as though expecting to see someone else. Finding it empty, she refocused on Emillie. “Are you alright?”
Finding her voice, Emillie nodded. “May I speak with you?”
“Are you not doing so already?”
“Privately.” The single word left Emillie in a breath.
Something primal flashed in Luce’s gaze before she stepped back and gestured for Emillie to enter.
The room inside was small—more like a soldier’s barracks room than anything else, with two bunk beds against opposite walls.
The top two mattresses were bare, while those on the bottom had linens on one and a pile of personal items, such as clothes, on the other. Aside from that, the room was empty.
The door clicked behind her, and Luce hurried by to shove the pile of belongings to one side, opening up a place for Emillie to sit. She did so, and Luce plopped down across from her at the edge of her bed.
“What happened?” Luce tilted her head.
Emillie curled her fingers into her skirt, and the lycan studied the movement. Before she could lose her nerve, she asked, “Did you bond to me?”
After a moment of utter stillness, Luce said, “I would say you and I have a bond of sorts.”
“No.” Emillie sucked in a breath. “I mean…do you have a fae bond with me?”
At that, it appeared Luce had ceased to breathe altogether. Her eyes flared, yet not a lash fluttered. The only motion that caught Emillie’s eye was the subtle parting of her lips. Tension wavered between them. Even the air went still as they stared at one another.
“I am probably completely wrong,” Emillie said after several aching heartbeats of this.
She stood and started for the door. This was a mistake.
She should never have assumed something so foolish.
Perhaps if she left now, she could salvage their flimsy friendship.
Without looking back, she continued to mumble, “I am so sorry. I misunderstood. I—”
A hand closed around her wrist, dragging her to a halt just as she reached the door. Heart launching into her throat, Emillie froze.
“It’s not that,” Luce said, her voice softer than Emillie had ever heard it. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s nothing I’ve felt before.”
Swallowing hard, she turned slowly. That familiar hunger burned in Luce’s gaze, sending a wave of heat through Emillie akin to nothing she had ever before experienced.
It burned in her core, causing her to press her thighs together at the sudden ache there.
In response, Luce inhaled long and slow, that fire burning hotter.
“Luce…” Gods, her voice was husky.
The lycan shook her head slowly, never shifting her attention. “I should hate everything you are—everything you represent.”
“Why are you saying—”
“But I can’t.” Luce pulled her, not ungently, bringing Emillie closer. She swept a strand of her hair back from her face, fingertips sliding along her skin and leaving a burning path in their wake.
At a loss for words, Emillie merely gaped up at her.
The lycan’s eyes snapped to her mouth, pupils expanding. “Vampires are hideous, wicked creatures. You’re abominations. A mage curse gone awry. None of you were meant to survive.”
Though the words were horrible, the pain and confusion dripping from each syllable had Emillie waiting with bated breath. Each inhale had her silently begging for more. Something. Anything.
“When I first saw you,” Luce hissed, sliding another step closer, “I never wanted to sink my teeth into someone more. I wanted to tear into you and savor every drop as you swept into my veins. Into my soul.”
What was Emillie supposed to say to this? They stood now a mere breath from one another, her head tilted back to stare into those golden pools, her heart throbbing as hard as her sex.
“I hate…you,” Luce breathed. She tightened her grip on Emillie’s wrist and let her head drift to the side, her attention flitting from one place to the next on her face. “I hate—”
Emillie slammed her mouth to Luce’s, cutting off the lycan’s words and satisfying the building inferno deep inside her. She sent a silent prayer to Keon and Silve that she had not made a massive error.
Yet after a moment of hesitation, Luce responded in kind.
Holding Emillie’s wrist tight, the lycan forced her to retreat until her back connected with the door she had just been about to open.
Luce lifted the arm she gripped above Emillie’s head and pinned it to the wood while deepening the kiss.
Tongues tangled and teeth clashed as they all but devoured one another.
In a blind search, Luce found Emillie’s other arm and yanked it up high to hold it alongside the first before pinning her body with her own.
There was something about the release of control as Luce held her there that Emillie found herself enjoying more than she ever thought possible.
“Tell me you want this,” Luce breathed, kissing across Emillie’s jaw to nip at her earlobe. “Tell me you need me as much as I need you.”
Words abandoned her. Gods, Emillie had thought of this moment for weeks, and finally…finally it was happening. Rather than respond, she nodded, pressing her body back against Luce in invitation.
“Say it.” This time, the words were a command.
Luce dragged her tongue up Emillie’s neck and adjusted her grip on her wrists to hold both arms in place with one hand.
The free hand ran down Emillie’s side, pausing at her hip to scrunch the skirt of her dress into her fist. “Say you want me to fuck you.”
“I do,” Emillie whimpered. “Fuck me, Luce.”
The responding growl was pure wolf. She dragged her teeth along the crook of Emillie’s throat and yanked the dress higher, exposing her thighs. “I am not gentle.”