But I can’t.
With a groan that resonates throughout the room, Neri gently places my feet on the floor and stands, his erection proud and intimidating. I’m unsure what’s happening as he bends down and picks me up, then carries me toward the bed, but I thread my fingers into his hair, imagining his mouth on me—at my throat, around my nipples, between my legs—wanting him to hear that thought.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You are not making this easy. Three hundred years, and I have to fucking say no.”
My head lolls against his shoulder, and my eyelids suddenly feel like lead curtains. When Neri lays me down, I note the coolness of the sheets, that even though I’ve occupied his arms, the covers are already pulled back.
He presses his hands into the mattress, hovering over me. A chill races over my skin at the sight of his fangs so close, but my attention slides downward. That sliver of skin from earlier is now a naked and masterfully muscled torso in full view, his shirt hanging loose.
I slip my hands over his chest and around his neck. “Come here,” I whisper.
Another groan, more quietly this time, a sound shared just between us. Though he seems a bit reluctant, he leans down until his lush lips are a breath away from mine.
He lingers, one hand moving to grip my hip as he pants softly against my mouth. I lie there, expectant, wanton for a kiss.
Instead, the wolf whispers, “Good night, Nephele. You’ll thank me for this tomorrow.”
I reach for him as he pulls away, dragging my hand down his forearm, but he slips free and lifts the covers over me, tucking me in like a child.
Gods, I want to say something as I watch him roam around my room, putting out the candles and lamps and closing the window, locking it for the night. But sleep calls, and I cannot resist.
The last thing I see as deep slumber comes to claim me is the wolf and his golden eyes, pausing at the open door to look back at me. Just before he disappears.
10
NERI
The eleven members of our crew stand on the bottom level of the terraced courtyards behind Fia’s palace, saying goodbye. Fia and two of her scholars—the same two who always follow her around—watch from the steps just above, donned in golden robes. The clear sky over the City of Ruin is painted in dull shades of blue and gray, though the rising sun’s fiery rays are quickly slicing through dawn’s shroud. I find myself admiring the view for several minutes, finally taking a moment to revel in nature, even if itisAsha’s homeland and not my own.
I lower my gaze from the morning sky and look to my left. This is the first time since I vacated his body that Joran Dulevia and I are in the same vicinity. The water witch stands a sword’s-length away, hands clasped behind his back. He’s seemed on edge ever since I strolled up beside him, his stance wide, his eyes fixated on the ground, though he sometimes spares a glance at the horizon.
He isn’t the only one avoiding me. Nephele hasn’t even acknowledged my existence this morning. I know she’s struggling with leaving Helena—she can’t seem to let go of the girl—but I’m also aware that she probably woke up, remembered what she did last night, and would now rather jump into the wildest, deepest stretch of the Jade River than look at me. Her mental construct is solid today, impenetrable as a galatine wall.
While everyone says their final words, embracing and shedding tears, I close the distance between me and the bowyer, until we’re mere inches apart.
“We need to get a few things straight before we journey to Malgros, Dulevia. I hear you plan to remain on the coast to work with the Northland Watch.”
“I do,” he grits out, lifting his eyes to stare at the palace, clearly not wanting to have this conversation.
“Good. Because one cross word to Nephele and I’d have to kill you, so the less time we’re around one another the better.” His nostrils flare at that, and the muscle in his jaw leaps, but he keeps his attention trained straight ahead and says nothing. “I do feel bad about what I did to you,” I continue. “A little.”
Finally, he cuts those silver eyes up at me, face reddening. “Alittle?Youviolatedme.”
“It was just a handful of weeks,” I reply with a smirk and a shrug. “I didn’t do anything offensive with your body, and believe me, after the way you spoke to Nephele, I could have.” I lower my head and voice. “In fact, I could’ve buried you so deep in Frostwater Wood that no one would’ve ever found you, save for the worms.”
His face tightens. “Thanks for the thoughtfulness, you son of a bitch. And as far as the witch goes, you can have her. She’s a good lay but a wretch any other time, so best of luck.”
The heat of my human body rises. I feel it traveling up the back of my neck as I lower my gaze to the collar of Joran’s tunic. With a single thought, the ties loosen from their limp bow and crawl around his throat. He tries to remain unfazed, but he lifts his hand, a nervous tremor in his fingers and his breathing.
I lean closer. “Listen, you small dick motherfucker.” He opens his mouth to no doubt correct me, but I extend my fangs which shuts him up quickly. “Speak of her like that again, and I will murder you far more brutally than a little choking. This is a warning, so you know how much control I truly have over whether or not you keep breathing. I dare you to push me.”
Blood pumping, I wait for him to cross the line I’ve so clearly marked in the sand. Perhaps it’s the beast in me craving a kill, or maybe I’m just an envious bastard. But this man painted a target upon his own chest many weeks ago in Frostwater Wood when he slurred Nephele and threatened her, a target I can’t seem to look away from.
The clang and clatter of metal shatters the moment. The tension between us grows brittle and crumbles as Joran takes a step away from me, and we both turn our attention to the courtyards. A young man comes traipsing down the steps, carrying the galatine sword and shield that had been hanging on the wall in Fia’s meeting room, along with a leather baldric.
Fleurie stands with Thibault a few strides away. She portaled him to Itunnan early this morning under the cover of darkness to retrieve his journals from Terrowin’s ship. The pair seem to hold affection for old things, because her eyes light up at the sight of the newly polished armament in the young scholar’s hands, the metal gleaming in the rising light.
The young man hands the sword and shield to Fia who calls for Fleurie to come forth as she descends the steps to the last courtyard. We all watch as the women walk toward one another until they stand face to face. Fia presents the baldric and sword first, allowing Fleurie time to fasten on her new weapon, then she hands her the shield.
