Chapter 14 Florienne
Florienne
Even thorns can wound the rose if they press too close.”
— AMARA’S LAMENTATIONS
Drayven’s already arming himself several yards from the campsite. Determined to be a thorn in his side, I stalk up to him and snatch his baldric from his fingers.
Wild eyes meet mine over his mask.
“Stop.” His clipped bark is rough, desperate. “You can’t be near me. Not now.”
I run the leather strap through my fingers. “Why not? So you can continue to make choices for me? Continue to push me away without a decent explanation?”
“It’s too dangerous. The curse inside me… it’s getting stronger. I feel it clawing at my control.” Pained eyes meet mine. His voice deepens. Softens. “I still smell your sweetness on the mask, Flori. It’s killing me.”
“So take it off.”
“I can’t! Kasaros forbade me.” He pauses. Frowns. “Me,” he mutters, almost to himself, his eyes darting between his hands. “Not you. Regardless, without it, I—”
He bites off his words and yanks the baldric from me. The leather stings as it slides through my grip.
“And you think running will help? You think leaving me behind will keep me safe?”
“I’m trying to protect you!” His shout ricochets across the temple, startling a flock of birds into flight. “The mask gives me strength to defeat your enemies. Can’t you see that?”
“All I see is a coward.” The words taste like acid on my tongue, but I force them out. “If you truly wanted me, you wouldn’t hide behind that mask. You’d claim me. Game over.”
“But then Kasaros keeps you.” Agony fills his expression. “Or your blood.”
“My blood is my own.” I lift up my chin. “I wagered he could keep whatever he wanted from it.”
“You know that’s not a safe bet.”
“He won’t want me,” I promise. “He wants what’s in my blood.”
“I’m not willing to take that risk.”
“You know what I think? I think you’re using the mask as an excuse, a way to dismiss your behavior so that you won’t feel so guilty when you leave.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. For a moment, I think I’ve said too much. But then his jaw clenches, his eyes hardening. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty. You once told me you dreamed of having a family. But I guess… just not with me.” I gesture down my marked body, shame contorting my face. “Not now I’m this.”
He flinches as if I’ve struck him, his eyes squeezing shut.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re my everything, Flori.
” His voice cracks with emotion. “From the first time I heard your little voice echo in the well, I knew you were the one for me.” His brows knit together.
“And not because you seemed weak, like something that needed to be saved. But because your voice amplified, grew stronger. Do you remember what you said to me when I asked if you needed help?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“In your usual stubborn tone, you said, ‘Help is for victims. I don’t need help.’”
“Well, that was dumb.” I scowl.
His eyes crinkle. “You were this larger than life girl, defying danger—yet you begged me to stay with you overnight. You were afraid of the dark.”
“Clearly, I was a willful child full of contradictions.”
“One who trusted me, a stranger, a nobody orphan of war, to watch over you.” Sad eyes meet mine. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, Flori.”
My heart swells. “Then be with me. Fight for us. Fight like hell, dammit.”
Something dangerous and feral comes over him, electrifying the air. Oh no. I poked the bear. He untangles himself from the baldric and prowls closer, blue eyes capturing mine until he’s looming over me, stealing my sense by existing.
“Take it off.” His demand is guttural.
“Wh-what?” I glance down. His shirt?
“Take. It. Off.”
Startling at the violence in his voice, I untie the pink sash. If he wants his shirt back, fine. Whatever. I’ll walk around naked. If he doesn’t want me, I don’t care, anyway. My heart can’t take it.
Strong hands latch around my wrists, halting my progress.
He growls. When I brave a look at his face, I see nothing coherent in his eyes.
It’s all wild instinct and hot temper. I don’t think he can form words, such is the force of his emotion.
Or the curse. Slowly, his trembling hands guide mine to his mask.
My fingers hover just over the painted silk, ready to hook over the edge. His breathing is uneven and ragged. Each exhalation warps that sharp, toothy grin. All that is left of the man I know is hunger and something darker, more primal.
“Drayven,” I whisper, unsure if I’m summoning him back or daring him to let go completely. “I love you.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even blink.
His hands loosen on mine only enough to let me feel his intent rather than crush me outright. The message is clear—this is my choice now, but it’s also a warning.
I should hesitate. I should stop and consider what lies ahead if I remove the mask—the freedom of other brides, other women, me. Instead, I am selfish. I think only of my aching, lonely heart here and now. I think of how many nights I dreamed of being with him.
I unhook the fastenings around his ears and lower the mask. The silk folds and the smile collapses. Drayven inhales. Logic bleeds into his eyes. But only for a moment. Then all I see is want.
His lips crash down on mine. One hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to deepen the kiss while the other grips my hip and he tugs me closer, slamming my body against his. His kiss is savage and consuming. Bruising. Validating.
I moan into Drayven’s mouth and fumble for his jacket buttons. We break apart only for him to help me. Before he pops the last button, I rip apart the leather, eager to feel his skin.
My fingers land on hard, velvety, ridged, and scarred flesh. The power in his muscular frame is intoxicating. I indulge in his body, touching him everywhere while he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point, and I shiver.
“Mine,” he growls against me, the word still more beast than human. Yet, for the first time, I know this is him. No barriers. My Drayven unleashed.
“Yes.” I arch into him. “Yours.”
Nothing ever sounded more right. With a snarl, he lifts me by the thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist. With a few, long strides we’re back at the campsite. He lowers me until my spine presses against the damp, leafy earth and then continues to kiss me—on every inch of my skin.
His hands move under my shirt, over it, rough and possessive, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. My breath hitches as he grinds his erection into my bare cunt, only his breeches separating us from joining.
“Dray,” I moan, threading my fingers through his hair. “Please …”
“Please, what?” He nips my jaw.
“Fuck me already.”
His chuckle morphs into a long, drawn-out groan when his hand dips between my thighs. “Gods, Flori. You really want this.”
“If you doubt me again, I swear to—oh, oooh… I—”
“What was that?” The smug bastard smirks.
His questing finger drags my wetness up and circles my clit. Rubs and flicks.
“I…”
“You what?”
He pushes inside me. I moan and arch into him.
He keeps filling me until he is knuckle-deep, finger curling and stimulating places I didn’t know needed to be touched.
As I pant and squirm, his thumb plays with my clit at a leisurely pace.
He watches my face with reverence. “You love me inside you, don’t you, Flori? ”
I bite my lip and nod. Squirm.
“Yes, you do,” he mumbles, almost to himself. He looks at the cotton scrunched up around my ribcage. “You look good in my shirt.”
He slides down my body and widens my thighs to expose me. I pout, rising onto my elbows to glare down at him. But he’s immune to my mood. He’s too busy spreading my slit, staring with eyelids at half mast.
“Mm. You look so good down here, too.” He glides his fingers along my seam.
“All wet and dripping for me. I’ll bet you can take more.
” He presses two, thick fingers to my entrance and eases in, stretching my inner walls until I whimper.
“Gods, you’re so fucking tight. So mine.
” He pumps in the final inch. Locks eyes with me. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp and roll my hips, chasing more friction.
“Just wait until my cock fills you.”
“Gods, Dray,” I breathe. “The way you talk.”
“It turns you on.”
“When did you get so—”
“So fucking rabid for you? Always.”
The growl of need in his voice pulses heat to my clit.
My inner walls clench wetly around his fingers.
Blushing, I bite my lower lip and give him an apologetic look.
His eyes widen when he realizes he’s the reason for my reaction.
Widen, but then fill with pure masculine ego.
He seals his mouth over my cunt and feasts, quickening my pleasure.
“Mm, fuck.” He licks his lips. “So much sweeter without the mask.”
“Dray!” I plead, shamelessly gripping his hair, shoving him back down. “I’m close.”
He growls against my flesh, “Then come for me, Flori. I want to see stars in your eyes before I fuck them out of you.”
Within seconds of his tongue’s return, my climax feels ripped from my soul. Wave after wave of bliss spreads from my core. I’m burning up, on fire. He kisses his way up my body, but I’m still floating, soaring, feeling too good even to smile.
Through the haze, I vaguely register that he removes his shirt from my body, leaving me completely naked. He meticulously rolls it and tucks it under my head, mumbling about needing to save me from a concussion.
“What—?” My brows pucker, but any question I have evaporates when he rears back on his knees and unbuttons his leather breeches—pop after pop. His fingers mesmerize me. Each inch opened reveals more of the dark fuzz trailing down from his belly button, down his defined abdomen.
Every rippling muscle was honed in my honor, to protect me. His damp blond hair has been tousled from my fingers. He lowers his leather breeches over his hips until his cock springs free, thick and heavy.