Through clenched teeth, I ground out my next words. “Because it’s usually not helpful at all. Now is there anything else you have to say to me or will you get the fuck out so I can rest?”
“How dare you curse at me,” she snipped. “Remember who you obey.”
I swept into a mocking bow. “Of course, Korona. I am nothing but your obedient pet.”
“Then be a good dog and go see your betrothed.” She shoved the table, sending the papers on top of it scattering to the floor.
Still fuming, she stomped from the room, acting as much a youngling as she painted me.
When the door slammed shut behind her, I collapsed into the chair I’d nearly broken and buried my head in my hands.
This was my penance for my selfishness. This was my penance for allowing myself to feel.
I was nothing more than a weapon. Forged for my duty. Sharpened by my family’s harsh words.
And I would do well to remember my place in the Angel court.
So why, when I finally dragged myself into my bedroom, did the rip of agony down our bond bring me to my knees?
36
One. Fucking. Day.
That was all the time that had passed since I’d so much as glimpsed Sylaira.
And I was a male unmade. Crazed. All because of my Goddess-cursed mate.
Maelsar spit blood on the ground, his lower lip swelling. “Lighten up, Vaeron.”
I didn’t shirk what Iaoth had bid me to do and stalk to the training yard instead to play. So I aimed a kick at his thigh, connecting with an audible thud. He grunted, absorbing the blow, then used my backward retreat as an opportunity to land a heavy punch to my ribs.
Air whooshed out of me. But I welcomed the pain.
Anything to distract me from the chain lashing melike a thousand relentless whips, each crack a gust from the wrath of Sylaira’s hurricane.
My head snapped back as Maelsar landed a punch square to my cheek.
“Losing your focus now that I’ve gotten a couple good hits in?” he teased.
Anger, hotter than the outdoor training ring currently was, flared inside me. Sweat beaded and rolled across my skin, dripping onto the earth. It flew like a cascade as I threw my next strike.
Maelsar easily avoided it and circled out, his wry grin flashing. “She’s got you really fucked up, huh?”
I lunged again, chasing silence through violence.
The whole point of this training session was to take my mindoffSylaira. But no matter where I went, what I did, the scent of ghostflower still curled in my nose. I hadn’t told Iaoth about being mated. Honestly, I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do.
I ducked a harsh right hook from Maelsar, forcing myself back to the present. “You swing like your mother taught you to fight,” I taunted. Not that it was entirely an insult. The late Kissta Caerelith had whooped us both as younglings on more than one occasion.
Maelsar frowned. “Says the male with a budding black eye.”
He wasn’t wrong. My vision was blurring as his earlier strike took hold. I jabbed up the middle, predicting he would step left. When he did, I followed it up with a kick to his ribs.
“Fuck you,” he swore, clutching the spot and half-stumbling.
I bounced on my toes while he wheezed. “Do you need a minute?”
He swiped sweat from his brow, straightening with a grimace. “I need you to work out your shit.”
