Chapter 59 #2
I refuse to think of anything other than the utter satisfaction. I know too well how temporary such gratification can be, but I want this to last.
Gods, how I want this to last.
I want to hoard this memory, to replay it when life no doubt goes to shit again. When I’ve forgotten what it feels like to experience something other than brokenness.
The cool air within the sleeping quarters settles onto my sweaty skin, but my body feels too heavy—comfortable drowsiness setting in—for me to care.
But when Odgar runs his fingers through my hair, the act is so tender—so outside of mere indulgence—that I jolt upright as though lightning shoots from his fingers.
Odgar looks at me with a mixture of concern and adoration, and I beg my icy heart not to thaw.
It’s just sex, I remind myself. A much-needed distraction. An outlet.
Even if this felt so different from any encounter I’ve had before.
I can’t afford to form attachments. He may claim he isn’t afraid of me, but he hasn’t seen the worst of me. We barely know each other. We were supposed to be wed for convenience, not for love, not for … whatever this is.
Clumsily, I grapple for my nightgown, throwing it over my head as I head for the door.
“Carys,” Odgar calls, his low voice firm but not hostile.
I keep my hand against the knob though I don’t turn, even as my skin, my whole body, continues to hum. Like his touch has left a lasting song, an imprint on my skin.
“Did I do something wrong?”
No, you big oaf, you did everything right. Tears sting my eyes as I press my forehead against the door. Odgar’s footsteps pad toward me. “Odgar.” My voice is quiet as I refuse to turn away from the door. “I’m begging you … Do not touch me or ask me to stay.”
He sighs, and I make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder at him. At the pain in his eyes and the confusion playing over his rugged features. His hands are clenched at his sides, as if it’s taking every bit of his control not to reach for me.
As soon as I open the door to step out of his cabin, a whisper of that voice within me stirs, bringing an odd feeling of impending doom along with it. I step backward and close the door, pressing my forehead against the wood again.
“Carys …” His voice is quiet, and I feel him close to me, but he doesn’t touch me. Because I bloody asked him not to.
“Fuck me,” I mumble under my breath.
“Again?” he says. “Well, if you insist …” Amusement permeates his tone.
Laughter sputters out of me, followed by the most unattractive, wet hiccup. I turn and step right into his arms. He doesn’t hesitate before folding them around me.
“Stay,” he says as my tears begin to flow.
“You don’t understand.” I hiccup again. “You can’t … fall for me.” It physically hurts to unleash the words. I push away from him, and my back hits the door.
Whatever you don’t want to talk about—it’s festering like a wound inside you, Valdis had told me.
My chest feels too tight, but I need to speak up before I lose my nerve.
“I slaughtered my brother,” I whisper. “I was five. I lost control of my magic. And I—” Not wanting to see Odgar’s reaction, I squeeze my eyes shut.
Tears gather beneath my lids. “Ellynne was killed, right beside me while I slept. Then Callum, right in front of me. Eefa slit his throat because I wouldn’t give them the information they wanted. ” My voice breaks.
Silence expands for a while before warm hands rest on my shoulders. “The one who scarred you.” Odgar’s voice is steady, tight.
I nod, my lashes holding back the dam of tears while I keep my eyes shut.
“Callum and Ellynne are dead because they were loyal to me. My brother. My mother.” The words taste like bile as they rush out.
“It’s not your fault,” Odgar says.
“Everyone I care about dies. Or leaves. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“Carys, my revna, mineh kelsska, I’m right here. Life can be cruel. I know. But right now, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
More unattractive sobs come from me, and I bury my face in his chest. He strokes his hands over my back while I properly drench his chest with tears and snot. Yet he doesn’t recoil in disgust.
“Stay,” he says, still holding on to me as if he’s afraid that I’ll leave.
“Alright,” I concede through tears. “Alright, I’ll stay.”
He slowly unwraps his arms from me, then takes my hand to guide me to the too-small bed. Odgar climbs in, patting the spot beside him as he edges back against the wall. I climb in, curling onto my side so my back presses against his front. It’s a tight squeeze, but somehow comforting.
I’m certain it’ll take me ages to fall asleep, but as soon as his arms circle my waist, I slip off into a dreamless oblivion.
I wake up feeling overheated, something nearly pinning me to the bed. Panic spears through me before the familiar scent of pine and perspiration floods my nostrils.
Shit.
So last night was not a dream. Not only did I fuck Odgar, but I poured my heart out to him.
I remained with him. I expect the shame to set in as it often has—with Wynn, Eefa, Callum, and the others whose names I hardly remember.
This time, however, there’s no shame. There’s only disappointment.
Not because of the sex, but because I’d come to him for pleasure.
For power. And in an ironic plot twist, it ended up feeling like so much more.
Odgar stirs, and his erection presses against my arse. My stomach clenches eagerly, my body immediately coming alive and begging for more, but I shift, putting some distance between our lower halves.
“Solni risgur,” he murmurs. Then, as if remembering himself, he repeats it in the Common Tongue. “Good morning.”
“Solni risgur,” I respond. I feel his smile against my shoulder. “I want to learn more of your language. Will you teach me?” I roll toward him, the bed creaking as I face him, and he smiles.
“I would love to.”
He leans close to kiss me, but I place my fingers lightly over his lips. “I have to go train with Valdis, and I doubt that kissing me is going to deflate your eager cock.”
He barks out a laugh that startles me before it warms my heart. His free expression of emotion is refreshing.
“May I ask you something?” I say.
“Of course.”
“Why do you call me revna?”
He grins. “Well, revna means raven.” He reaches out and lifts my hair, catching a streak of gold instead. “Your hair has more golden bits than before, but it’s still raven black.”
I roll my eyes, thinking there had been some more enlightened reason behind the nickname. Especially since even the ends of my hair are starting to fade to a lustrous gold.
“But,” Odgar continues, and my brows rise. “Ravens represent divine justice, wisdom, magic and prophecy. Because Hofadr—the father of the gods—uses ravens as his messengers. They often bring visions and open our eyes. Like you opened mine.”
My brows furrow. “I …” The words slip away, and I clear my throat, averting my gaze. “You think far too highly of me.”
“Maybe you think far too little of yourself. I call you raven warrior and huntress because I want to remind you of the strength inside of you. And I’m not talking about your flamewielding. You’d be powerful even without it.”
My chest feels too heavy. “And …” I swallow around the sudden knot in my throat. “You called me something … Mineh …?”
Confusion crosses his face for a moment before recognition sinks in. “Mineh kelsska … My … beloved.” The hesitation is evident in his eyes, but his words feel pure, genuine.
I smile, tears brimming, and catch myself as I’m about to caress his beard, to slide my finger over the antler tattoo on his cheek.
I need to get out of this space. I have no intention of crying again today.
Or sleeping with Odgar again—not until I have my bearings about me and I can be sure I’m not using him only for pleasure or to feel powerful.
“I’ll … have to ask Briony about a fertility suppressant,” I say, grimacing as I sit up.
“I take a powder,” Odgar says with a smile. “You don’t have to worry about the suppressant.”
His words give me pause for a moment. Then I slip out of bed and adjust my nightgown. “I’d better get ready for the day.”
“Wait,” Odgar says. The bed creaks as he gets up and crosses to a cabinet on the other side of the room.
He’s nude, as he’d been last night, and I can’t help but stare at the flexing muscles in his arse as he stalks off.
I fight to keep my wits about me despite the desire building all over again.
He collects something from a cabinet and strides toward me again.
Draping a dusky blue material over my neck, he says, “I finally finished it.”
I frown, confused. The fabric is soft and fuzzy—woven. It’s warm—far too warm—against my neck. It takes me a moment to recognize that this is what he’s been working on since he first visited Paramount. “You knitted me a scarf?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
“Nalbound, not knitted.” He winks. “Remember? One needle versus—”
“Odgar.”
He laughs. “But yes, I made this for you. I know the winters aren’t as harsh in Erleya, and I wish I’d finished this earlier but—”
“Thank you,” I say, cutting him off. I inhale, my chest feeling crowded.
This scarf is definitely too warm. The flush takes over my whole body, forcing me to step away from Odgar.
I feel a tug toward him, my gaze settling on his lips, avoiding those eyes that I know can melt me.
His muscular, tattooed chest isn’t any less inviting.
I turn and briskly walk away. “And thank you for last night. Not the sex, but … you know.” I rush out of the cabin before I can hear whatever heartfelt thing he no doubt has to say.