Chapter 13 Florienne
Florienne
— SECRET TEACHINGS
After I’ve eaten and relieved myself, Drayven leads me toward a mini lagoon he found so I can wash.
Our feet sink into the detritus of fallen leaves and mud, stirring the scent of rain and moss, thick and ancient as the ruins themselves.
The lagoon is really more of a hole in the ground collecting rainwater.
But it appears fresh. I’d much rather stay at the campfire and talk with him.
I want to know everything. I want to know what happened after he went into Kasaros’s service, where he’s been living, who are his friends… girlfriends…
“I’ll go in first,” he announces. “I’ll face away, but I’ll stay close. If you feel faint, use me for support, okay?”
I scowl, ready to tell Drayven I’m fine, but he drops his breeches and heads to the pool—naked. My jaw drops. As he walks, each muscular globe of his buttocks flexes. It’s not until he slides into the water and wades out waist deep that I think I might be drooling. Maybe I wipe my mouth.
When did he grow so impossibly perfect? Battle and violence have sculpted his body with more precision than Amara’s stone effigy. Heat rises to my cheeks when I glance down at my own body. A decade in the Pen has made me weak, soft, and covered in random dark symbols that tell a shameful story.
Dray stays true to his word and keeps his vision locked on the other side of the lagoon. It must be midday now. The sun shines directly through the hole above our heads. Tiny birds twitter and hop between branches. Butterflies dance.
He folds his arms, biceps pop and twitch. It’s some kind of anxiety building in him, some kind of pathological need to get moving.
“You sure you don’t need help?” he asks.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He lifts his hands in surrender.
He’s being so nice. More than nice.
If he loves me, why didn’t he tell me he was alive?
He could have come to me at any time while I was in the Pen.
Biting my lower lip, I glance down the length of my body again.
I never cared about my figure before. Never cared about appearing attractive except that my looks could be used to my advantage.
The mask made Drayven lose control. He tried to scare me away by saying he wanted to violate me, to fuck me hard and deep.
But it turned me on to hear him talk with such urgent need thickening his voice.
No other man could make me feel so wanted—not the ninety-nine feminine mysteries, not the magic blood in my veins, but me.
My body heats even now. So I teased him.
I pushed him into doing something he didn’t want to do.
And then I stroked his cock until he came.
I try to ignore this growing ache in my chest. Did I force him? Have I ruined things between us already?
“Florienne?”
“Getting in,” I mumble.
I undress and slip into the water. It’s cool, but not freezing. Either that or I’m not feeling very much right now except shame.
Water sloshes, and my head snaps up. Dray is wading backward toward me.
“If you’re worried you’ll faint,” he says, “put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself. I promise I won’t look.”
“What if I want you to look?” The words are out before I can stop them.
He tenses. “Flori…”
That’s all I need to hear to know my answer. I may have fantasized about him during my confinement these years, but he’s lived his life. For all I know, he’s only with me out of duty. Or maybe a deal with Kasaros he made as a child, one he can’t break free from.
“It’s a jest.” I force a smile into my voice.
He seems to relax, so I scoop water onto my body and scrub dried blood from my skin. He’s within reaching distance, staying close and vigilant. Mere inches separate us, but it feels like a chasm.
I never imagined the lost years when I dreamed of us reuniting. The reasons why he was missing. The people we’ve grown into.
Each drop spilled distorts our reflections, making us strangers. I hate seeing it so dunk myself beneath the surface.
Water closes over me, quiet, peaceful but lonely.
Until stormy eyes appear inches away. Dray grasps my shoulders and wrenches me upward, bursting us through the surface.
“You can’t do that!” he barks, still gripping me. “You can’t just drop beneath water without telling me.”
“Why not?” I splutter, wiping the hair from my face. “I told you I was fine.”
“Because you’re not fine.” His eyes are wild. “You’re never fine in my head, Flori. You’re always a breath away from—”
He finally lets go of me to scrub his face with two hands. Every line of his body is taut, like a string about to snap.
“From what?” I tug his hands down and find anguish written all over his face. And fear.
“From realizing you’re too good for me,” he sighs. “From not needing me.”
“I didn’t know you were alive until yesterday. I don’t understand.”
His spiked, wet lashes lower. His gaze lingers on my naked breasts, skin pebbled and dewy. Or maybe he’s looking at the golden rosebud. I fight the urge to hide myself.
“Gods, Flori,” he rasps. “You’re perfect.”
My breath hitches. “What?”
“I said you’re fucking perfect.”
“Show me.” I swallow. “Show me you mean that.”
A growl rumbles in his chest. He grips my waist, fingers digging into soft flesh. The frantic thud of his heart beats against my breast. For a moment, we’re lost—breaths mingling, wet bodies pressed against each other, trembling, and yearning. Waiting. Wanting.
Then his mouth lowers onto mine. His kiss starts slow, tentative, and awkward.
It’s not the beast behind the mask. It’s the boy behind the man.
The one who’s been in love with me for as long as I have been with him.
It’s sweet, reverent, and careful. It’s the way he held my hand when he taught me to throw daggers.
It’s how his fingers brushed my wrists instead of catching me when he chased me.
My doubt falls away, and a surge of desire sweeps in.
When our tongues touch, something snaps inside us.
Our kiss grows needy, desperate. No mask between us.
No barrier dulling the years of longing poured into this moment.
I moan, threading my fingers through his damp hair, pulling him closer.
Every ounce of me wants to feel him. His hands roam my slick body, leaving trails of heat.
But he touches too close to my wound, and I flinch. More from instinct than pain.
He pulls back. “We shouldn’t.”
“We should.”
“We—”
I silence him with another kiss. He groans into my mouth when my fingers trail down the hard muscle of his abdomen.
“Be with me,” I breathe against his lips.
A shudder runs through him. His grip tightens, and then he wrenches away, leaving me bereft and dazed.
I blink as he wades to the lagoon’s edge.
Water sluices down his body as he heaves himself onto the shore.
His flexing, toned buttocks distract me from understanding what he’s doing until it’s too late.
He tugs his leather breeches on, leaves the fastenings undone, and rifles around in the ferns. For what?
It’s the mask. That damnable barrier. My heart clenches as he stares at it, hair dripping, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“So you’re leaving me again,” I accuse. “Right after I ask you to—never mind. Clearly, I have the wrong idea.”
He whirls to face me, eyes flashing. “I never truly left you, Flori. Not in the ways that matter.”
“Whatever.” Bitterness chokes me.
“I’ll never leave you,” he vows. “But I… I can’t be with you. Not as your king, not when it means you’ll sacrifice what you really want.”
The words pierce me, lancing deep. I watch, numb as he takes a breath, lifts the silk over his nose and mouth, then fastens the edges around his ears.
The transformation is immediate. Outwardly, he looks the same. But inwardly, something changes. I sense it in my blood. Magic flutters across the smiling teeth painted on the black. When he turns my way, the Huntsman is back, impassive and unreadable.
“Time to get moving.” His voice is muffled.
My vision blurs with tears I refuse to shed. “Dray, please…”
But he’s already walking away.
I want to scream. To rage. To beg him not to go. But I know it’s futile. The mask is more than a physical barrier—it’s the wall he’s erected around his heart. The one I can’t seem to breach, no matter how hard I try. I’m the most experienced Vesper in the Pen, yet I’m still clueless about him.
As he vanishes into the thick foliage, I hug myself, shivering.
The ghost of his touch lingers, torturing me. I finish cleaning myself, dress in his old shirt, and then make my way back to camp. It’s only a few yards, yet the waterlogged journey drags on.
Is this to be my fate? Forever chasing a ghost?
“A family should be born out of love like yours was. Not… that. Besides, brides are weaklings.”
“Hey! Take that back!”
“I said brides are weak. Not you. Not girls who join the military.”
Drayven’s voice trails off in my memory. Maybe I’ve changed too much for him to accept.
Or maybe we both have too much pain in our past to talk about now.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I force myself to keep walking, to not give up.
It’s what I’ve always done, no matter how many times this world tried to break me.
And it’s what I’ll keep doing, even if Dray insists on fighting his war alone.
I’ll find a way to save him, to free him from Kasaros’s curse. No matter the cost.
Because he’s mine, just as I’m his. I may not have joined the military, but I sure as hell learned how to fight.