“My Armas means a lot to me,” she says, her hand curling around her pendant protectively. “I was infuriated when it was taken from me. To hear that Edevane used it as a common taunt in whatever game he’s playing doesn’t sit much better.”
“No, I don’t suppose it would.” Taryn lowers her hand again, and I stare at the way it nestles against her brown skin. “Does it always feel so…alive?”
Her brows draw together over the bridge of her nose. “Alive how?”
“As soon as I held it in my hand… I don’t know how to explain it, but it felt like I was supposed to have it. There was this energy that vibrated through my body wherever the pendant touched. Instead of holding onto it or slipping it into my pocket, I put it on as though it was the most natural thing to do. I told myself it was the best place for it until I could lock it in my safe back home, but…”
Fuck me, this is going to sound bad when I say it out loud. Scrubbing a hand over my trim beard, I blow out a breath then pull out a coil of black nylon rope I stored in the end table drawer. If I have to admit to being an Armas junkie, I’ll do it while self-tying a gauntlet on my forearm as a distraction.
As I shake out the thirty feet of rope, I force myself to continue. “I couldn’t bring myself to take it off. I felt connected to you with it on, almost like I could sense your presence. Sometimes I even thought you were trying to communicate with me through it.”
“I assumed one of the guards had it. If I’d tried communicating with them, it would have been more of a death threat vibe.”
My mouth quirks up. “Makes sense,” I say as I hook the middle of the rope on my thumb and wrap the two ropes it creates behind and around to the front. Looping and threading, I make a rose knot on the inside of my wrist, then repeat the wrap-around and knot process.
“At any rate, the first UFCO fight I had after that, I forced myself to leave it in my locker to keep it safe. I hated every fucking minute of that fight. I managed to focus on what I was doing, but the whole time I could feel the Armas scratching the back of my brain like it wanted to make sure I didn’t forget it was there.
“Each time I took it off for a fight, the reactions got worse. My skin felt too tight, my hands shook; the need to get back to it consumed me. But as soon as I put it on again, it all stopped, and this wave of calm would roll through me.”
Taryn’s eyebrows lift. “That sounds like drug withdrawals, Finn.”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s not like that for you, I take it?”
“No, never. I have a sentimental attachment to it because my father had it made for me, but I’ve never felt anything like what you described.” She chews on the corner of her lip for a second, her brows drawn together in thought, and I focus on adding another rose to the gauntlet to keep from scrutinizing what that means. “How long ago did that happen? When Edevane left my Armas behind, I mean.”
“Early March.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” she mutters under her breath as she finishes off her wine in one big gulp. Then she gives me a hesitant look, like she can’t decide whether to tell me something.
“It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already admitted to.”
“That’s around the time I began seeing a pair of golden eyes in my dreams. Your eyes, Finn.”
I freeze and look up. “The drawings.”
She averts her gaze as a pink hue colors her fine cheekbones. “You noticed them, then.”
My left eyebrow lifts. “Kind of hard to miss the wall that was like looking into a hundred illustrated mirrors. I forgot all about them until now, though.”
“Gods, I don’t know how. It’s more than a little insane.”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip as I drink in all the delicious details. Her guileless gaze, the pale freckles dotting her nose, and her sensuous lips that frame the most beautiful smile. The way she flips her curls over to one side, creating a style that’s equally controlled and feral, like she just stepped off the runway at fashion week or emerged from the depths of a forest. If I tried to make a list of everything about her I find attractive, it’d be a mile long.
“Guess I’ve had more interesting things taking up my focus recently.” Heat that matches mine flickers in her eyes before she delicately clears her throat and takes a sip of her wine. Following suit, I corral the conversation back to safer topics.
“There must be some connection between me finding your Armas and you seeing me in your dreams. You said your dad had it made for you. Maybe he spelled it so you’d be able to find it if you were ever parted from it. That’s why I felt compelled to always have it on me and you were having visions of the one who had it.”
“It’s possible. But it was taken weeks before that. If that’s the case then I would’ve been dreaming about Edevane, right?” She lets out a long sigh. “And I thought the only mystery was why my father chose to have it made from Luna.”
“He never told you?”
“He never had the chance. No one knew he commissioned it, and he disappeared several days before it was delivered to the palace.”
I pause mid-wrap around my arm. “Disappeared how?”
“No idea. I don’t even know whether he left of his own accord. With the security in place at the palace it’s highly unlikely he was taken, but he could’ve been off palace grounds for all we know.”
She looks down at the pendant, brushing a finger over the engraved symbol. “I’ve always had a strained relationship with my mother, but he and I were so close. My mother convinced herself that he left because he couldn’t handle being in her shadow, but Garyth Emory never cared about ruling or power any more than I did. He bonded with her as mates because—for reasons I never understood—he truly loved her.”
When she lifts her gaze again, I hold it and soften my voice. “I’m sorry you lost him, Taryn. I’m sure the unanswered questions about his disappearance must make it hurt even worse.”
She swallows hard as though choking down a lump of emotions she doesn’t want to deal with, then points to my arm. “What are you doing?”
I glance down at the gauntlet that’s almost complete. Black rope wraps around in tight rows on the top of my forearm with knots on the underside that resemble small flowers and go from wrist to elbow in a zig-zagged line. Holding it up so she can see it better, I say, “Japanese rope bondage; it’s called shibari. From the amount of rope you’ve seen, I’m sure you can guess it’s a passion of mine. This specific tie is called a rose gauntlet. With practice, it’s one of the ties you can do on yourself without needing a partner.”
Taryn leans on the armrest of the couch and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “What kinds of things can you do if you have a partner?”
I might be imagining it, but I swear there’s a glint of interest in her pretty eyes that goes beyond the educational. “There’s an infinite number of things you can do,” I say. “Simpler designs like chest harnesses or corsets, or you can get into the serious stuff that includes full body ties and suspension. When you’re done, you’ve turned someone into living art.”
“The purpose, then, is the art?”
“Not the only one, no. Another is helping with anxiety and stress in the same way a weighted blanket or acupressure does. Compression, or Deep Pressure Stimulation, switches your body’s fight or flight response to one of relaxation.”
I’m almost finished—it’ll only take another two rows before I run out of rope—and I can already feel my mind and body settling after dredging up all the shit with Edevane set me on edge.
When I don’t have enough left to go around again, I tuck the last few inches beneath the gauntlet to secure it. Then I unhook the part that’s been looped around my thumb and tuck it in at the top in the same manner. “There. I could wear this all day and it’ll stay just like this.”
She holds her hands out, and I reach over and offer her my arm. She lightly traces her fingers over the nylon rows and the twists of the knots like she’s learning the shapes and testing the tightness with which the rope is holding me. With each stroke, I imagine what it would feel like if the rope wasn’t there, if instead she was tracing the veins in my forearm and mapping them out in her mind.
