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434 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 14, 2024
" You are strong. you are fierce. You are capable. "
To everyone who didn’t need to be saved, but really wished someone had done it anyway.
” Intense. Yes, you get used to it. All of that attention will be focused on your sheath in no time," she says.
I press my lips together to hold back another smile. "Sheath?" I've heard a woman's sex called many things, but never anything relating to weaponry.
Glyni bites her lip, also trying to contain her mirth. She gives me a brisk nod.
"Well then, besides being long and girthy, I suppose I should ask if the Enduar swords are very sharp?” I tease.
Her feline eyes flick to me, green irises shining in the mid-morning light.
“They’re made of the finest steel I’ve ever wielded.”
"And should I be oiling my sheath regularly to ensure a comfortable home for the blade?"
Glyni breaks first. Secretive laughter bubbles up between us again.
My fists curl and uncurl. “I understand I was unpleasant, but now I have experience walking the land above. Besides, she pointed at me when she asked.”
Melisa smirks. “That I did. He seems good with his magic.”
Teo makes a frustrated noise. “I suppose now we should figure out how we are going to hide a seven-foot Enduar with a tail.”
“No need to get heated. Mrath sent me here to keep an eye on you. It seems like this delicious little human has an in with the giant lords. She’s even recruited a big blue bodyguard.”
Until now, my heartbeat has been slow and steady, but when I look into Melisa’s unflinching, golden-warm gaze, I feel like I’ve just spent two hours training with the stone benders.
I sweat, my muscles feel strange, and, if I still had my tail in this form, it would probably be swishing back and forth.
When she smiles, it feels like my chest might burst.
Is this matehood?
For a second, I marvel. Then my head turns to the woman at my side. A bitter taste coats my tongue.
I’m taking her back to be tortured.
Why had she insisted? The decision seemingly came out of desperation. But I can’t know for sure—it’s all a part of the mystery that keeps her just out of reach.
I can’t tell what is so charming about this sight. Objectively, she looks puffy and unkempt as she wakes, but I wish to see it every morning henceforth.
“You must forgive me,” I say a moment after.
Her smile drops. “Whatever for?”
“I killed a few of your rabbits.” Her brow furrows.
“Naturally. Now, when we arrive, I had better do something to gain his sympathy, or I’ll spend a week in the pit.”
“The pit?” I repeat.
She nods. “It’s one of the other torturous ways we deal with things in the northeastern lumber yards. Whipping is useful for slaves with active jobs like healing, chopping, or cooking. Those with more passive jobs are sent to the pit, sometimes without food or water.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because if you cover a comfort woman’s back with open wounds, she can’t lie down. Starve her, and she’ll be lethargic, to be sure, but she’ll still be good for a rut.”
I recoil. “Why the hell would you say it like that?”
“Because it’s true. It’s not like I have a choice in such matters.”
The truth settles between us like the snow settles on the ground.
“This… it happens sometimes. My mother called them waking nightmares. It’s just… it will… pass,” she stumbles.
My brows furrow. “It is an attack?”
She nods. “Of my nerves. Please, it will p-pass.”
Instinctively, I hold her tighter. When I agreed to take her to Zlosa, my duty was to protect her by any means necessary. I defended her from the vaimpír, and now, I will defend her from her own mind.
“All is well. The worst has passed. Nothing else will bother us this evening. You will rest well, and then we will continue in the morning. You are strong. You are fierce. You are capable.”
I will confidence into my words as her walls crumble. Another mystery unravels, revealing her fear of letting another person see her so vulnerable.
How can I let her out of my sight, knowing anything could trigger one of these attacks? What if I’m not there to hold her together?
“I don’t have a blade.”
I shake my head, holding out my hand. My wrist dips and pulls upward from the earth, bringing forth a long, jagged stone. Using my magic, I smooth the handle to protect her small hands and let it fly to my palm. Taking out a spare leather scrap, I wrap and tie it around the handle before passing the makeshift blade to her.
She takes it gingerly.
“You won’t hurt yourself if you only touch it from here,” I say, measuring her breathing to track if she starts to panic again. “My mother had attacks, as you have. They were worse after we escaped from Ruhsavida. Much later, I learned that they came when she felt like she had no power and control. Learn to fight, even a little, and you give yourself more power and more control.”
When she slashes a little close to my chest, I reach out and disarm her. Her blade falls to the ground, but her wrist stays locked in my hand.
So many touches. I’m turning into a greedy man.
But then I remember everything she’s told me about Zlosa—about Eneko—so I drop her hand, respecting her space.
I grab her wrist. “I have my limits, and injuring you is out of the question.”
It still hurts to think of those scars along her belly and up her arms—not to speak of the scars slashed across her soul, where no one can see. She’s been hurt too much.
For only a minute, I allow myself to luxuriate in the memory of him carrying me across the yards. I think of how quickly he moved and how careful he was not to jostle me. Like I am precious to him, even after our fight.
“All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
All I can feel is the imprint of her body on mine.
I have a mate.
A mate possessed by that horrid giant.
We can't leave before the mission is finished, and I can't bear for her to be with him any longer.
Something has to change—I just don’t know what.”
I take my other arm and pull back the sleeves, revealing the hundreds of scars across my arms. They are so rarely on display.
“You’re right. I was with him, but Hibsej met me after. This is payment for laying with her husband," I spit out.
As the words leave my mouth, my head buzzes. I feel as though I am watching this exchange happen from the top of some tree.
I take another step back when Ra'Sa's bright blue eyes drop from my face to my arms. His large hand reaches up and wraps around one of my wrists, brushing against some of the deep scars that had been dangerously deep when they were made.
He soaks in the years of wounds.
"The long sleeves,” he murmurs, more to himself. “I thought that you only wore them for winter."
I don't respond.
He gives me the same look he did while we were traveling. Memories of his arms wrapped around me turn. He held me close while my attack raged. Cherished me. Whispered sweet words.
“Why are you still here?” I demand.
“Because I don’t care about where you were—I care about you.”
“While you were with him. You said, ‘Ra’Sa, please come for me’.”
Shit.
“I—I did,” I whisper as he approaches.
He is devastatingly beautiful, like some fallen god. He looks at me with the light chiseling out his features. There's no humor in his face.
I have never seen anything like this.
It puts me wholly at his mercy. I’m exposed.
Ra’Sa nods once. “I know—I heard it.”
“Hold me like you did that night in front of the fire,” she says, eyes blinking wide and eyebrows furrowed.
The words pierce my heart. She had been so fragile when her waking nightmare almost took her. To know that I could be there for her is the kindest gift.
“Are you sure that you want me to touch so much of you?” I ask.
“Some touches don’t hurt.”
My chest hollows out, and I slide my hands around her back. Carefully, so damned carefully, I bring her a few steps closer. My hand comes up to cradle her injured arm.
Once surrounded, she starts to shake. She falls apart in my arms, shattering into a thousand pieces that are only kept together by the cage of my body
I shout in pain as she tears the flesh open further.
Ra'Sa heard me when I was panicked earlier. Had I opened my mind to him? If he sees this, he'll kill Hibsej. And then we won't learn what Eneko finds on his trip. I'll ruin everything.
The girl pointing at me slowly lowers her hand and pushes her hair out of her face, looking more and more fearful. The movement causes me to pause. The defiant curve of her lips, the sleek black hair, and wide brown eyes remind me of just one person.
Melisa.
I immediately drop to my knees as I softly push the door closed.
"Me llamo Ra'Sa,"2I say gently, matching their language.
The two girls look at each other. Twins, I realize—both copies of Melisa.
Wren. Thea.
I’d heard their voices. Seen their small bodies. They didn’t need someone to tack a dead man’s name onto their heads—they needed a new life. Just like their mother.
I can be whatever you need tonight," he says. "We have been through this—I see you. I know your thoughts. You cannot hide from me as you wish. I came because you need me."
My breath hitches, and my core hums. When he says it like this, the sense of fighting flows away. This was what I wanted—to have him so thoroughly wrapped around my finger that he'd never leave.