“That’s cryptic,” Xaden remarks.
“He got a little…cryptic in the years after Brennan died,” I admit softly. “Losing my brother made my father even more reclusive. I only really got to spend time with him because I was always in the Archives, studying to be a scribe.”
The pages flutter as I flip through stories of an ancient kingdom that spanned from ocean to ocean and a Great War among three brothers who fought to control the magic in this mystical land. Some of the fables tell stories of the first riders who learned to bond with dragons and how those bonds could turn on the rider if they tried to consume too much power. Others talk of a great evil that spread across the land as man became corrupted by dark magic and turned into creatures known as venin who created flocks of winged creatures called wyvern and scourged the land of all magic in the thirst for more power. Another talks about the dangers of wielding power from the ground instead of the skies, as one could easily start drawing magic from the earth and eventually be driven mad.
One of the purposes of the fables is to teach children about the dangers of too much power. No one wants to become a venin; they’re the monsters that hide beneath our beds when we have nightmares. And we certainly never want to try to control magic without a dragon to ground us. But that’s all they are, children’s bedtime stories. So why did my dad leave me this cryptic note—and hide it inside the book?
“What do you think he was trying to tell you?” Xaden asks.
“I don’t know. Every fable in this book is about how too much power corrupts, so maybe he felt someone in leadership was corrupt.” I glance up at Xaden and joke, “I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if General Melgren ripped a mask off one day and revealed he was a terrifying venin. That man has always given me the creeps.”
Xaden chuckles. “Well, let’s hope not that. My dad used to say venin were biding their time in the Barrens and one day were coming to get us—if we didn’t eat our vegetables.” He glances out the window to his left, and I know he’s remembering his father. “He said one day there would be no magic left in the kingdom if we weren’t careful.”
“I’m sorry—” I start, but when he tenses, I decide a subject change is what he really needs. “So, which mess should we tackle first?”
“I have a better idea of how to spend our night,” he says as he puts another pile of clothes on my bed.
“Oh?” I glance over and catch his eyes darkening as he stares at my mouth. My pulse immediately quickens, the thought of touching him sending a burst of energy through me.
Don’t fall for me…
His words from last night cut a sharp contrast to the way he’s looking at me now.
I take a step backward. “You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?”
“Absolutely not.” His jaw tenses.
“Right.” I don’t expect that to hurt as much as it does, which is part of the problem. I’m already too emotionally involved to separate out the sex, no matter how phenomenal it is. “Here’s the thing. I don’t think I can separate sex from emotion when it comes to you.” Well, shit, now I’ve said it. “We’re already too close for that, and if we hook up again, I’m going to eventually fall for you.” My heart pounds at the rushed confession, waiting for his response.
“You won’t.” Something akin to panic flares in his eyes, and he crosses his arms. I swear I can actually see the man building his defenses against his own feelings. “You don’t really know me. Not at my core.”
And whose fault is that?
“I know enough,” I argue softly. “And we’d have all the time in the world to figure it out if you’d stop acting like such an emotional chickenshit and just admit that you’re going to fall for me, too, if we keep this up.” There’s no way he would have designed that saddle, spent all that time training me to fight and fly, if he didn’t feel something. He’s going to have to fight for this, too, or it will never work.
“I have absolutely no intention of falling for you, Sorrengail.” His eyes narrow and he enunciates every word, like I could possibly take that any other way.
Fuck. That. He let me in. He told me about his scars. He had an arsenal crafted for me. He cares. He’s just as wrapped up in this as I am, even if he’s shitty at showing it.
“Ouch.” I wince. “Well, it’s apparent that you’re not ready to admit where this is going. So yeah, I think it’s best we agree that this was just a onetime thing.” I force my shoulders to shrug. “We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?”
“Right,” he agrees, apprehension lining his forehead.
“So the next time I see you, I’ll just act as cool as you are right now and pretend that I’m not remembering what it feels like to have you sliding inside me.” Warm and hard. He really does have an incredible body, but he doesn’t get to dictate what I do with my heart.
He stalks forward with a smirk, his gaze warming every inch of my body. “And I’ll just pretend that I’m not remembering the feel of your soft thighs around my hips or those breathy little sounds you make right before you come.” His teeth rake over his lower lip, and it takes all my willpower not to suck that lip into my mouth.
“And I’ll ignore the memory of your hands biting into my hips, pinning me to the armoire so you could take me deeper, and your mouth on my throat. Easy.” My lips part as I retreat, my heart jumping in the best way when he follows, backing me against the wall.
His hand rests next to my head as he leans into my space, his lips curving into a half smile. “Then I guess I’ll ignore the memory of how hot and slick you feel around my cock, and how you cry out for more until all I can think about is how to push every physical limit to be exactly what you need.”
Shit. He’s better at this game than I am. Heat flushes my skin. I want him closer. I want exactly what I had last night. But I want more. His breath hits my lips in ragged pants, and I’m in no better condition.
Fuck it. I can have him, right? I can take exactly what he’s offering and enjoy every single minute. We can shred every piece of furniture in this room and then move to his. But where will that leave us in the morning?
Right here, both wanting and only one of us brave enough to take, and I deserve more than a relationship that’s only on his terms.
“You want me.” I put my hand on his chest and feel his heart pounding. “And I know that scares you even though I want you just as badly.”
He stiffens.
“But here’s the thing.” I hold his gaze, knowing he could bolt at any second. “You don’t get to dictate how I feel. You might give the orders out there, but not in here. You don’t get to tell me we can fuck but I can’t fall for you. That’s not fair. You can only respect what I choose to do. So we’re not doing this again until I want to risk my heart. And if I fall, then that’s my problem, not yours. You’re not responsible for my choices.”
His jaw clenches once. Twice. And then he pushes off the wall, giving me space. “I think that’s for the best. I’m graduating soon, and who knows where I’ll end up. Besides, you and I are chained together because of Sgaeyl and Tairn, which complicates…everything.” He retreats one step at a time, the distance more than just physical. “Besides, with all that pretending, I’m sure we’ll eventually forget last night ever happened.”
The way we’re looking at each other tells me neither of us is ever going to forget. And he can avoid it all he wants, but we’re going to end up right here time and again until he’s willing to recognize what this is. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I’m going to fall for this man—if I haven’t already—and he’s halfway there, too, whether he realizes it or not.
Turning my back on him, I walk to the shattered halves of my throwing target and pick them up before heading back across my room. “I never figured you for a liar, Xaden.” I shove the halves at his chest. “You can get me a new one when you’re ready to come to your senses. Then we’ll blow off some steam.” I throw the aggravating man out.
…
“Did you hear that King Tauri is celebrating Reunification Day here?” Sawyer asks as he swings his leg over the bench beside me at lunch.
“Really?” I attack my roasted chicken with zeal. Since I’ve been training every day with Carr, my appetite somewhat resembles a bottomless pit. At least he only drags me to that mountaintop for an hour a day, but still, by the time breakfast comes, I’m ravenous.
After a month, I still can’t aim lightning for shit. But I’m up to about twenty strikes an hour, so that’s an improvement. Glancing down the tables, I catch Xaden’s eye as he eats with the leadership on the dais.
He looks scrumptious this morning. Even the broody little cloud that follows him everywhere has a certain appeal as he rolls his eyes at something Garrick says.
