“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his apology unnerves me.
I quickly finish the last stitch, tying off the thread before wiping my oddly sweaty palms on my nightgown and standing.
“I’m done,” I announce, stepping away from Braxton.
I need distance from him. He’s being so confusing right now. Braxton leans forward and grabs the wrapping lying next to him to finish bandaging his side. I hear Luna snore softly next to us. Thankfully, Gravesley wasn’t able to do any permanent damage to her when he tried to stab her because she was moving around too much. Braxton used the last of his healing paste on her before bandaging her up, which is why he needed me to sew his wound up.
She’s definitely going to be sore, but she’s going to heal up faster than Braxton will, unless we manage to steal some healing paste from the infirmary. Padding over to where she lay curled up in a ball by the roaring fireplace, I reach down and gently scratch behind her ear. She leans into my touch before lifting her head to lick my palm.
Standing back to my full height, I carry the needle and thread back to the small box I saw Braxton pull them out of. When I close the lid of the box, I see the initials A.C. etched on the top of it. My brows pull together as I run my fingers along the engraved initials.
“Braxton, how did you know I was in danger?”
I’m too much of a coward to look at him as I ask this question.
“I was nearby, and I heard the commotion.”
I turn around. His bedroom and study, also known as the only rooms he spends any time in, are on the completely opposite side of the castle.
“You were nearby?”
He nods once, never taking his eyes away from his task of bandaging his side. Perhaps we’re both cowards.
“Doing what?”
“Patrolling.” He shrugs, and I can tell he’s lying by the rigidity in his shoulders.
“Tell me the truth.” My words are a demand that sound like a plea.
He finally picks his eyes up to mine, a sheepish expression taking over his face. “Alright, I was coming to check in.” I let my confusion be well known on my face. “After we…” his words drift off. “I didn’t want you to feel guilty for what happened. So, I came to check on you.”
My heart is quickly becoming my biggest traitor as it bursts in my chest. I can’t stop myself from thinking back to what Rhoden said about Phillip’s lack of effort in attempting to free me from this castle. He’s supposed to be the love of my life, yet somehow the person who trapped me here showed a bigger interest in my well-being. And somehow, something about that felt right. Braxton coming to save me felt right. What happened with Braxton in the library felt right. Braxton caring about me feels right.
Not letting myself think about it, I cross the room, drop to my knees, and let my lips fall on top of Braxton’s. At first, he’s incredibly receptive. His hands wind around my back, pulling me closer to him, and I drink in the feel of his body molding to mine. There’s a part of my conscience that tugs at my heart, alerting it to the fact that this is not the same as what happened between us in the library. That was fiery passion fueled by hatred. This is something completely different. There’s no anger pouring from me as I seal my lips to his. One of his hands tangles in my hair, and I can’t stop the small whimper that escapes me as his fingers brush the sore spot where Gravesley had dragged me by earlier.
His entire body stiffens, and I feel his hands gently push against my shoulders.
“We can’t.”
“Braxton?” I pull back to study his expression. He looks as though he’s being tormented by an unseen evil. His hands reach up to encase mine, which are pressed against his chest. “We’ve already done this.” The lie in my words tastes bitter.
“This isn’t the same. You know that.” His words are somber as he begins to brush his thumbs over the backs of my hands. “And I won’t be able to bear it if you regret this in the morning.” He finally flicks his eyes up to mine, and my chest seizes. Looking past the dark exterior he’s trying to mask himself with, I can see the trepidation lurking beneath.
Tentatively, I lean forward and brush my lips against his again, softer this time, less demanding. His muscles stiffen beneath my fingertips, and he takes in a sharp, pained breath. I wait for him to push me away again, but he doesn’t.
In my heart of hearts, I know I can’t promise him what he needs from me. I can’t promise that I won’t regret this in the morning. My heart is still heavy with the guilt of wanting this while I have a fiancé waiting for me back home. At least, I think he’s waiting for me. So after doing my best to pour those feelings into the final kiss I’m sealing with Braxton, I only hope he understands what I’m trying to tell him.
“Azalea.” His words are a warning.
Understanding I’m too close to pushing him past his limits, I pull away from him. I didn’t realize how much of the warmth I was feeling was coming from his body until I’m met with the harsh chill brought by the space between us.
Braxton drops his gaze, probably hoping I don’t see the disappointment lurking beneath it, but it would be impossible to miss.
“Thank you.” He utters these words so softly, I’m unsure of if I heard him correctly.
I swallow heavily. We need a change in topic before I throw every ounce of caution and care out the window and, for once, take what I truly want.
“Where am I supposed to sleep tonight?” I blurt. Not my smoothest transition into a new conversation, but it’ll have to do. “Obviously, my room is off limits because there’s a dead body in front of it, and I can’t just hole up in your study.”
