Kiren grinned, regardless of his friend’s teasing. “Says the king of cliff diving.”
“Yeah, the one of us with wings. You are really willing to give up everything for this, this girl?”
Kiren lifted his hands in surrender. “One kiss on the cheek. People greet one another that way in several countries we have visited. I am not offering my heart on a platter.”
Zeph huffed. “And how many women have you greeted with a kiss?”
One. Exactly one, and they both knew it.
“You said you were never going to be bonded.” Zeph sat, crossing his arms. “You said it was a bad idea.”
“I know what I said, but she knows me, Zeph. From the future.” Kiren sat across from his friend, giving him a moment for the words to settle. “What am I giving up by choosing her?”
Zeph ticked off his fingers. “Your father’s throne.”
“Already gave that up.”
“Your kingdom.”
“Do not want it.” Kiren shrugged.
“Your freedom.”
“What is freedom without a reason to appreciate it?”
Zeph paused on the fourth finger. “A virgin.”
Kiren rubbed at his eyes. Yes, that aspect bothered him some, but he’d made it clear to everyone he intended to pursue her, and it wasn’t a decision he came to lightly. He cared for her, regardless of her history. “Next?”
“Marital bliss.” Zeph knocked that finger a couple times. “The baby is not just going to disappear because you are busy with its mama.”
Marriage. He hadn’t thought that far. Pursue her, yes. Enjoy the heat of each kiss, absolutely. But marriage? He scratched the back of his neck, fingers stumbling over his necklace. His parents had been happy. Until they died because of their children. Promising a woman forever when his forever might be riddled with danger—especially when she had a child—what would she have to say about this?
He should go ask her. Right now.
Zeph crossed his arms triumphantly. “I just think maybe you are jumping into this without exploring all the possibilities.”
Kiren laughed. “I thought you would appreciate me leaving the possibilities for you.”
“Not me. I am not sealing my fate for a long, long time.”
He opened the door. “While you are ruminating about these possibilities I am missing, I am going to find my reality and enjoy how warm and solid she is.”
***
Alexia clipped the thread between her teeth and set the needle aside. Ravia’s cloak was finished. It had been chilly enough at night that she’d promised to return it today…although today had worn into tonight. She knew only because Regin had insisted she start a fire when he entered and forced dinner upon her. He was right. The single window had dimmed until she was squinting to see her stitches.
She tottered to her feet and wrapped the cloak in her arms. Mae had moved to her own hut this morning or else she would have been present to accompany Alexia. She’d also have told her to quit stitching long ago, which meant the job wouldn’t be done yet. They’d have spent the last hours of the day exercising Mae’s gift and helping her refine her control as they did every night, but this evening Mae had been settling into her new home. It was going to be strange, not sharing the space with her dear friend, but Mae felt it safer to occupy her own space, especially once the child was born.
Alexia slipped out the door.
And slammed into someone. Warm hands wrapped around her.
She gasped and stared up into the heavenly sea of possibility, the man who had made his intentions toward her public this morning. The man she could barely breathe without. She recalled how he’d escorted her through her deliveries and then back to her hut, carrying her basket the entire way. It was such a sweet gesture. And then he’d dipped down and placed a timid kiss on her lips before returning to his duties.
Looking up at him now, the starlight painting his lips in soft light, her heart sped. “You could not wait until morning to speak?”
He shrugged, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I missed you.”
Her face flamed. He missed her? This was not good. From the intimate touch to the glimmer in his eyes, she was in trouble. Had he meant take care of her as in guard her health until after this baby, or take care of her as in husbandly-type duties? She craved the latter, but no. It would destroy him.
“You had only to wait until daybreak to speak.” She smiled up at him, questioning if her misgivings were leaking through.
His hands stilled, head quirked to one side. “You were going somewhere.”
She slipped free from his grip—not wishing to be free, but dreading how vulnerable his touch made her. Alexia lifted the finished cloak. “Delivery.”
“In the middle of the night?” He leaned in and grazed his lips across her ear. “You must take care of yourself at this late stage, adequate rest and all. It can wait until morning.”
She shivered, melting into the heat of his breath on her skin. Why couldn’t he be her Kiren? She was stranded on the shore, able to see and touch the ocean, but fearing its unfathomable depths. She could dive so easily and never return for a snatch of air or daylight. Just let it swallow her up.
Alexia stopped herself, lips an inch away from his neck. This was bad. So terribly bad. His desires were now quite clear, and she didn’t know if she had the willpower to resist.
“Perhaps we should wait until morning to speak.” Her voice trembled.
“I like that idea.” Kiren shoved her door inward and pulled her inside, locking his mouth to hers as he kicked the door closed behind him.
Her heart jumped into her throat. What did he think he was doing? Did he believe a simple kiss in public was a declaration of eternal love and that he now deserved to have all of her?
She tore her mouth from his. “Kiren.”
“Hm?” He reengaged her lips, stopping any protest she might utter. And indeed her protests were melting away one by one under the heat of his passion.
What are you doing?
Let me show you. His fingers pulled through her hair as he deepened his kiss, filling her core with molten lava. She was done resisting. Alexia strengthened her mental barrier and attacked him as if he were her husband. For a few brief moments that’s all he was. The man she loved. The man she’d left. The man she’d never see again.
He kissed her harder and lowered her to her mattress. His lips ran over her cheeks, her jaw, her chin, her neck. She rose with each nip, aching for more.
He pulled back, breathing hard as he stared into her eyes. Ocean swells tossed with vexing frustration. He dropped onto the mattress next to her, facing her. She rolled toward him, disappointed, but careful to make sure her necklace remained hidden.
“I still cannot break through your barrier,” he said.
“Is that what you were attempting?”
He grinned.
She wanted to follow up by asking, is that all you were attempting to do? Goodness, he needed a leash. Or she did. She couldn’t be in this close proximity and not expect to fall.
He leaned in but stopped short. “Why? Why do you keep me out?”
Her pulse sped. “You are not ready for the secrets I protect.”
His fingers trailed down the side of her face. “If I am such a white knight in the future, you should not need to protect them from me.”
“Perhaps I am protecting you from them.” She trapped his hand against her jaw. “Is that it then? You came merely to interrogate me?”
He leaned up over her, his eyes blazing once more. “Oh yes. Interrogate.” He kissed her. “Tease.” He kissed her harder. “Enjoy.”
Please. She lost herself in the length of his kiss, her mind wandering to Father’s garden so long ago when Kiren had asked for her hand and kissed her this same way—with joy, with contentment, with his heart. He didn’t know how to give less, and she didn’t want less.
He opened to her, and she stumbled into his mental landscape. The grounds lo
oked as though they had been tilled, new growth springing up. She turned and found the tower of family purpose still in ruin, topped by a very shiny sculpture of a pregnant woman in white stone. Flattered though she was, she scowled at a demigoddess, an untouchable woman whose entirety was as cold as stone, no matter how she lit the space. The goddess stood triumphantly over the crumbled tower, as if she had toppled it.
That wasn’t Alexia’s purpose at all. She wanted him to rebuild the tower. To construct the crystal palace that had been his mental prison. To frame the majesty that would take five hundred years to complete.
“Kiren.” She pulled free, looping her fingers around the laces of his tunic and holding him away. “Why have you given up your family?”
He curled his fingers around hers and pressed his lips to her thumb. His words were timid. “Making room for a new family, I suppose.”
She sat up, scowling. “And what of your sister? The throne your parents left to you?”
He knelt across from her and shrugged. “What about them? They are gone. I thought you would be pleased with the idea of a new family.”
His meaning smacked her and she pressed a hand to her chest, reminding herself to breathe. This was exactly what she’d feared. It wasn’t a game, no ill-hatched attempt to get at her memories, but an expression of desire that she could never give into. He wanted her entirely.
“Alexia?” He leaned in, searching for her gaze.
Her heart sank. How could she refuse him and not hurt him? How could she tell him ‘no’ without crushing the confidence and strides he’d made the last weeks?
Hurting him was better than costing him his life.
In a gentle censure, she said, “No new family can replace the old. Would you give up on them that easily?”
He frowned, his tone abrasive. “I did not give up easily.”
“Of course not.” She studied her hands. He’d heard her rejection loudly—the reason for the venom behind his words. She was crushing him. “But nor are you fighting for them any longer.”
“There is nothing to fight for,” he insisted, nostrils flaring.
She cupped his cheek. “You cannot know that.”
He tore his face free, staring into the shadows, away from her. Alexia could almost feel the fissure in his heart, his constant battle and loneliness seeping into her.
He shoved to his feet.
“I believe your kingdom awaits,” she continued. “I believe your sister needs you. And most of all, I believe you need them.”
His head shook. “I am no king, Alexia.”
She struggled up onto her feet. “Not yet, but you will be.”
Angry blue pierced right into her, a shard of ice. “I. Will. Not.”
Fury fueled his glare. His shoulders bunched and his fists trembled.
Will not. He hadn’t said cannot or should not. Will not. He had decided.
“You cannot change your blood,” she insisted. His heritage was bound to his bloodline, and if he didn’t step up and fill the role that belonged solely to him, either his sister or his daughter would be forced to. Likely his daughter. She would not place that burden on her child. “You may run from your responsibilities, but they will still be yours.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “You think I do not know that?” He turned on her. “No one asked me if I wanted this heritage. No one even questioned if I would be adequate to fill my father’s throne. Do you know why?” He leaned toward her. “Because I am not. No one is. I cannot lead our people.”
She slid her fingers through his. “But you can.”
He pulled his hand away. “I will not.”
Alexia couldn’t contain her disappointment. Perhaps he hadn’t healed as much as she’d believed. She turned away and picked up Ravia’s cloak, feeling heavier than she had all night. “I have a commitment to fulfill. When I return, it will be to sleep.”
Quiet.
He exhaled. “It is dark out. Allow me to escort you.”
“I need no escort.”
“But one is here nonetheless.”
She scowled and exited the hut. He followed behind, the silence so heavy between them she wished he hadn’t come. Just when she believed she’d discovered her truest friend, that things between them might finally ease, he showed another face. One she recognized. A man who cared deeper than he dared admit.
He is not my husband, she reminded herself. If she didn’t keep her guard, he never would be.
The pathway between huts was abandoned, snores filling the air as a growling lullaby. Willem stumbled tiredly past, slipping into the hut he shared with Lucian.
She didn’t turn, didn’t stop until she reached Ravia’s door. Light danced across the draped window, so perhaps her friend was still awake? She knocked on the stone.
No response.
Kiren skidded his boot back and forth across the dirt, the sound grating on her nerves.
Ravia must have fallen asleep, but she would be pleased to find her cloak waiting for her in the morning. Alexia pushed the curtain aside, hoping not to wake her friend.
She froze.
Dark liquid stained the corner of the mattress, a glint of metal protruding from the woman’s body. Alexia inhaled a familiar metallic scent and her fists tightened.
Blood.
Twenty-Five
Captive
One whole day. Leofrik sliced off a piece of a turnip and offered it. The mist woman turned her head. She hadn’t eaten anything or said a word since he’d tied her up. Worse than that, she had lain there struggling when she didn’t think he was watching, sniffling in the night and pulling herself under control before he opened his eyes this morning. No answer to his questions. No response but to glare or grind her teeth. Her skin had taken on a gray pallor, sickening.
But what was that?
He squinted and leaned in. She inhaled, her neck tensing. He brushed the metal back from where it rested against her clavicle and tensed. The links had left black stains across the skin—like soot. He licked a thumb and brushed it across the skin.
Her eyes snapped up at him, but he ignored her.
The flesh remained blackened, burned. A knot twisted inside him. What was he doing to her? Could this imprisonment be more cruel than a cell? More importantly, what kind of creature burned at the touch of chainmail? His fingers found the wooden wolf hidden in his tunic pocket.
“What are you?” he hissed.
Her head turned away.
“The metal,” he asked. “It hurts. Can it also kill your kind?”
Her mouth tightened.
Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way. If he offered some compassion, perhaps she would respond in kind. It might work better than forcing answers out of her.
“Forgive me, I did not know.” He rubbed the toy wolf’s smooth surface. Now what to do with that knowledge? If he released her she’d likely kill him. If he kept her like this, guilt and shame would eat him alive until the chains drained her of life. Perhaps if only a small point of metal were touching her it would not be so unbearable?
He tugged at the links on the end of the mail, using his dagger to pry between them. He freed a string of metal. It took half the day and a blazing hot fire, but he reshaped a bracelet of metal and fastened it about her wrist. Her glare flashed at him as he worked, but he didn’t apologize or even lift his gaze to hers. At last it was complete, a skin-tight fetter of links.
“Now I will untie you, but I warn you, I am most capable with a sword, as well as my hands.”
Her eyebrows lifted at him in a sarcastic challenge.
These two days she’d given him angry looks, despairing when he turned away, but never once had she complained. She’d grunted. Growled. Hissed, but never a vocalization. Was it possible? “Are you mute, my lady?”
She spat at him.
That would certainly make their communication more challenging. He untied the ropes and lifted the metal away from her. She inhaled deeply, unable to hide her relief, but her
skin remained ashen.
The woman sat up tentatively and he leaned back, giving her room. She rubbed at her limbs, warming the blood back into them and frowning the entire time. That pout could stop men in their tracks. It held the power to turn them on one another for the honor of her favor.
Her head lifted. She smiled at him through her lashes and leaned forward. His heart thudded. To be in such close proximity to such breathtaking beauty, he couldn’t stop it.
But she was a creature, something unholy that defied even nature.
She tilted her head as if considering him for the first time, her silver eyes washing over him in a hail of glitter. Tingles rained through him like fresh snow on a sunny day, or sparks of fire while chill hung in the air. She grazed a finger across his cheek, fire and ice all in a single touch. Leofrik imagined what it would be like to possess such a tantalizing blossom, being on constant guard to protect his prize, always hoping her affections were for him alone…
It was a foolish prospect. Why was he considering the notion when he had a brotherhood to return to—men true and selfless who would give limb and life to protect the less fortunate?
Her fingertip stopped at his chin, tilting his face to hers. Waking every morning to her lilac-rain, running the softness of her hair through his fingers, knowing the welcoming embrace of a woman who lit the fire within his chest…
Her eyes hardened to steel.
Light flashed in his periphery. He twisted, but not fast enough.
Smack!
Pain exploded through his temple. Leofrik hit the ground. His head throbbed like a volcano. He blinked through the agony as a skirt whipped across his face. He reached out, caught an ankle, and yanked.
A gasp.
She slammed into the earth.
He crawled forward on his elbows, fumbling over the sword she’d slipped from his hip while distracting him and bashed into his head. He trundled over the rope he’d used to bind her and leapt on top of her, trapping her to the ground with his weight.
“I was doing you a kindness,” he ground out, looping the rope around her legs first. She kicked and wriggled, but he shoved her shoulders into the ground with such force that her head slammed down and she ceased struggling. He tied her wrists and ankles quickly, but as he finished, his gaze landed on her face, so innocent and sweet in slumber. Too bad the thing was a little vixen. Or demon.
Timeless (Maiden Of Time Book 3) Page 11