Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
ARA
After the horror of the trials, all of us are exhausted and quiet, so we head off to our rooms, not in the mood for conversation. But I don’t want to be alone either, so I follow Tate and, when no one is looking, slip into his room instead of mine.
He pulls me into his arms as soon as the lock clicks behind us and simply holds me.
Wordlessly, he guides me into the bathing chamber and helps me out of my dirty and bloody armor, his fingers tracing and erasing the marks still left on my skin until only soot and dried blood mar it.
I help him with the buckles on his armor with the same reverence, appreciating that both of us are still alive.
He checks the temperature of the water before pulling me into the shower with him.
“May I?” he asks, holding up the soap, and I nod.
Slowly, deliberately, he starts soaping up my body. The slippery feel of his hands sliding over me makes my skin tingle while the piney, cool scent that is him envelops me. I inhale, savoring it.
“I might have to steal your soap,” I say, making him grin.
“Hmm, I like the thought of my scent on you,” he hums while he rinses me off, his hands chasing off the bubbles, his movement appreciative but not overly sexual. He enjoys taking care of me and maybe even needs it to reassure himself I’m still in one piece.
He soaks my hair next, his fingers fanning through the matted strands.
“You don’t have to, I can—” I start.
“But I want to,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Let me take care of you. Let me savor your being here with me.”
I smile at him over my shoulder. “Savor away then.”
He laughs softly while his hands spread soap over my hair and then start massaging my scalp. It feels freaking amazing.
I moan.
His hands stop for a second.
“My plan was to clean you up and hold you while you rest, but if you keep up those sounds, that intention goes down the drain with the soap,” he warns.
I laugh wickedly, and he lets his head fall to my shoulder in mock exasperation. “Now I’ve done it, haven’t I?” he murmurs against my skin before pulling my hair aside and kissing his way up to my ear.
He gets back to my hair, and sure enough, I let him know how much I like it, audibly.
As soon as he is done, I snatch up the soap before he can reach for it and turn to him, arching one eyebrow in challenge.
With a small smile on his lips, he holds still while I relish the feeling of his soap-slicked skin and hard muscles under my fingers.
I let my hands roam over the ridges of his abdomen, the wide expanse of his chest, and his strong shoulders, only to run them down his arms. I step closer, my arms coming around him, soaping up his back while I press my body against his.
He reaches for me then, but I shake my head with a playful smile, and he humors me.
I tease him, taunt him, tug on his control with every sweep of my hands, with every press of my lips, until by the time I wash his hair, both of us are panting.
With wet, slick skin heated by more than warm water, we step out of the shower.
Our eyes lock again and again while we dry off, and I’m wrapping a towel around my hair when he sweeps me up into his arms.
“You’re taking too long,” he growls, and I giggle while he carries me over to his bed.
“I’m just making sure your bed isn’t getting wet.”
“And who the fuck cares?” He throws me onto his bed, and I bounce, before looking up with mock indignation.
“I’m not sleeping in a wet bed.”
“Oh, that is another matter then.” He grins at me. “Let me make sure we didn’t miss a spot.” He crawls onto the bed, kissing his way up my body, making me squeal whenever he finds a spot I’m ticklish and moan when he finds my weaknesses. And he finds them all.
Soon, I’m writhing under him, tugging him up, desperate to have his lips on mine and his cock buried inside me.
The laughter made room for a quiet intensity, and his mouth catches my sigh when I welcome him into my body.
Our movements are filled with appreciation, worship, and giving.
We share long, slow kisses while we get lost in each other, both of us basking in the glory of being alive, of being together.
It’s much later, when I’m curled into him, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin, that I tell him about everything that happened today—of our crash, the goddess, and how she gave me the ability to talk to him. Unfortunately, that ended as soon as the trial did.
Or maybe it’s for the better since there is no way I could keep my secrets with him in my head.
“What is it?” Tate asks, as always, too perceptive, but I smile it away and distract him instead.
Tonight, I’m all about enjoying what I have instead of mourning what I’ll lose. Who knows if we even survive these trials? Iza killed nearly half of the participants in the first round, and it had been close for Solaris and me as well.
The following morning comes much too soon, and I scurry to my room for clean clothes before anyone else wakes. Or so I thought.
At breakfast, Calix watches me with a knowing grin while I shovel food into my mouth.
“What?” I ask as soon as I have swallowed.
“Nothing, just glad you’re feeling better, is all,” he says, and Mariel nods enthusiastically.
“Yes, I feel much better, actually.” I smile. He gives me a knowing smirk, and I narrow my eyes at him.
I don’t have to wait long to hear what that was about. We are on our way to the arena for training. Calix is walking next to me and grins again.
“What?” I ask.
“Look at you, all relaxed and glowing.” He bumps my shoulder.
“And since I not only saw you sneak out of his room but also saw our centurion press a kiss to your temple when he thought no one was looking, I don’t even have to ask who is responsible for it.
” Calix grins at me. “Guess he doesn’t hate you, hmm? ”
I swat his arm, my cheeks heating, but nothing can wipe the smile off my face today.
We talked for a long time yesterday, and Tate now knows everything about the last months and what happened since our fight at the palace—well, almost everything. I still have to tell him about my bargain with Tynan, my grandmother’s plan, and my promise to his brother.
I opened my mouth a thousand times to say something, but somehow I know that a confession a la “Oh, and I spy for the enemy now” wouldn’t have gone over well. And it’s not like I can tell him much, anyway. And Frederick … honestly, I like to pretend he doesn’t exist.
It’s wrong to keep this from him, but I can’t regret it. Not if it’s the price for mornings like today. I sigh.
“That good, eh?” Calix asks, winking. I slap his arm, but laugh with him. Gods, I need more moments like this, like last night.
The arena is empty when we arrive, and nothing reminds us of yesterday’s massacre, not even a discoloration of the sand.
We go through our usual drill and sparring, and maybe my perception is skewed, but I could swear Tate is going easier on us today. It’s a sunny day, and even here in Avina, the coming summer slowly shows. Tate lost his shirt during training, and keeping my eyes off him is damn near impossible.
Now that the others have left, it’s only us, and I don’t have to pretend anymore.
He is setting up targets for me to practice my gift.
Biting my lip, I watch his muscles ripple with the movement.
His golden skin is already turning a darker shade from training out in the sun in Telos, and the sunlight playing over it makes my fingers itch with the desire to do the same.
He clears his throat, and my eyes fly up, only to find him watching me with a smug grin on his gorgeous face.
“Focus, Ara, and I don’t mean on my body.”
“Hmm, I was only in thoughts,” I reply airily and strip out of my shirt, which leaves me naked from the waist up, apart from my wrap. His eyes turn molten.
“And what thoughts were those?” he asks, his voice a little rougher. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
“Eh … more memories, really.” I wink at him.
“Put your shirt back on,” Tate says calmly, but a warning vibrates through his words.
“And why would I do that? There is no one here but you and me, and you have already seen it all.” I shrug, stepping closer, then turn my back on him.
“How am I supposed to concentrate like that?” he mutters, and I grin.
“You started it.”
“You’ve probably seen me train without a shirt a hundred times by now.”
“And it’s a testament to my swordsmanship that I didn’t hack off my foot while I did,” I reply dryly, making him laugh.
By the time we’re done, my skin is slick with sweat and my breath labored, but I’m grinning triumphantly.
“We’re getting there,” Tate says, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“That was damn near perfect, and you know it.”
He scoffs, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Hah, I saw that.” I point a finger at him. “Now admit it.” I step closer, cupping my ear. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?” He takes a step toward me, and I’m overly aware of the heat radiating off his skin, or maybe it’s his gift that blazes like a sun next to me.
“Are you waiting for me to tell you how good you did, or how perfect you are?” he rumbles.
I swear it goes straight to my core even though he isn’t touching me …
yet. Goose bumps spread over my skin, and he smirks.
What can I say? Playing with fire is kind of my thing.
I step closer and look up at him through my lashes.
“Yes, please,” I breathe. “Tell me what a good girl I am.” I bite my lip and watch with satisfaction as his eyes darken with desire. We stand there, frozen, neither of us breathing. The pull between us is too strong to step away.
“Are you done here?” a voice calls, jolting us.
Right, we are still standing in the middle of an arena that is open to the public and used by more people than just our flight. I take the first breath in what feels like hours and force myself to take a step back.
“Yes, we are done here ,” Tate calls back, his eyes still on me, conveying that he is far from done with me.
“We are supposed to meet the rest,” I remind him. “And then we have to attend this celebration.” I give him an apologetic shrug and grin when he curses under his breath.