"My soul, Argon," I said. "Where did it come from? Surely you cannot manifest one out of thin air?"
Argon avoided my gaze. I noticed he now kept his hands, previously visible, hidden beneath the cloak. His face was shadowed. He leaned against the castle wall like he wanted to disappear into it.
"I've said enough tonight," he muttered. "You've had a long night, too. You should rest."
Defiance flared within me. "I will not rest. I have every daylight hour to think and to rest and do nothing else! I want to dosomethingnow while I can!"
"There's nothing you can do alone," Argon argued softly. "I just told you your curse can only be broken by love. There's no point wasting your energy. Why don't you wait until that orphan boy comes back? You seem to like him."
My rush of irritation at Argon calling Florian 'orphan boy' dissipated when I realized he was teasing me on purpose.
"Yes, I like him," I grumbled. "But that means nothing. He will never love me back. That is what will break the curse, is it not? Not a one-sided infatuation, but true mutual love. The love between fated mates."
Argon sighed like he was intensely tired. "Maybe so. But the two of us could use a little hope, Devereaux. If Florian can be hopeful, why can't we?"
I looked over my shoulder to where the front gate stood. My heart ached remembering that I'd been with Florian just moments earlier and now he was gone again.
"I suppose," I admitted, turning back around. "But—"
My words dried up. I was speaking to nobody. Argon was no longer there. I sighed in frustration. My creator was a coward, sneaking off when nobody was looking. Perhaps I had upset him more than I realized when I grabbed his shoulders. His flesh was quite cold—maybe he had gone to warm up.
In any case, I knew this would not be the last time I saw Argon.
Now I could only pray tonight was not the last time I saw Florian, either.
11
Florian
The next morningI couldn't get out of bed.
Every muscle and nerve sizzled with pain. I'd finally pushed my luck and my body a step too far. Before I even opened my eyes, my body throbbed. All I could do was lie there with my eyes clenched shut and try not to groan.
I’d exerted myself way too much. I knew that. On top of my already laborious daily chores, I made the long journey to and from the courtyard knowing that it would agitate my delicate frame. Had I been stupid? Yes. But to see Devereaux was worth the pain. Even if it meant all I could do right now was writhe in bed like a worm.
I withheld a whimper of agony. Everything hurt. I hadn't been through a bad flare-up like this in a while. I'd almost forgotten how awful they were.
I allowed myself a moment to wallow in my misery and self-pity. Why me? What had I done to deserve this? All I wanted was a simple life with the children, my friend Pascal, and Devereaux.
My chest tightened when I thought about him, and it wasn't because of the pain.
I let out a fluttering sigh. My allowance of self-pity was over. I never let myself dwell on it for long because it accomplished nothing. But at least now I had something brighter to focus my thoughts on.
Trying to ascend the pain, I relived my meeting with Devereaux last night. Imagining his gentle face made me smile. How was it he looked more handsome every time I saw him? He was like a living painting, a figure carved from marble, one I noticed in more detail with each glance.
And then there was his touch.
I shuddered. Even then I'd been pushing myself, so it was no wonder I ended up bed-bound today. But when Devereaux got down on his knees to observe my frail legs and ended up running his hands all over them...
Heat licked the pit of my belly the same way it did last night. I wasn't used to sexual urges of any kind but Devereaux awakened them in me. Touching my legs wasn't even sexual—I must've really been starved for attention ifthataroused me.
A pleasant tingle ran up my spine, counteracting the pain. An idea occurred to me. I bit my lip.
Pascal wasn't here. He often woke up earlier than I did, so he must've left the room already. I was relieved to have some time alone. For once, I wasn't thinking about my daily chores or all the responsibilities that fell on my shoulders. I was thinking about my own needs, and right now, I had a pressing one that needed tending to.
Quietly, I slipped my hand between my legs. My body despised the fact that I was moving at all, but the pleasure that sparked when my hand wrapped around my half-hard cock was stronger than the pain.
A soft moan escaped my lips as I worked myself up and down in a slow rhythm. I wasn't the type of omega to pleasure myself very often but for some reason the urge was impossible to ignore, as if Devereaux's touch had lit a match inside me and the fire refused to burn out.
