I nodded.
“Then here is where I shall stay.”
He followed me into the bright chamber, his presence a shadow that haunted me as I prepared to put my knee through grueling paces. My normal healer greeted me, and I hopped up onto the table, allowing him to examine my injury before moving into exercises to strengthen my leg again.
At the end of the session, he gave me a potion to accelerate my recovery. I wasn’t sure what all he blended together for the concoction, but my ability to walk had increased a hundred fold upon arriving at Thalvireth Palace.
It was the one good thing about living here now.
The Issaraeth rose, once again tucking away the papers he had been reading. No doubt about the war. How involved washe in the ruling of the realm? He was head of House Räviel and brother to the Korona, so I assumed quite a bit.
I tried not to let that examination ink itself onto the list of grievances I held against him.
His scar returned to my mind unbidden.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
He was beholden to so many things…
“How are you feeling?” he asked me, the tiniest sip of warmth in his tone.
“Better every day,” I replied, as I followed him back into the halls of Thalvireth. The hitch in my stride was smoother than it had been upon departing my room.
“Do you think you’ll dance again?” he questioned, so quiet and yet booming with unspoken desire.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “I think so. Between the healer’s magic and whatever potion he’s been giving me, I have hope.”
The Issaraeth stopped and faced me. “I am glad to hear it. I can’t wait to see you twirl for me, little fugitive.”
The nickname had my breath hitching. Something low and dangerous fluttered through me. The kind of desire that snuffed out all defiance.
He stepped closer, sparks lighting under my skin. I didn’t dare move. I scarcely dared inhale again.
The air between us shimmered like a phantom bolt readied to strike. Lust rose, hot and heavy, down our connection.
My mate reached past me and pulled back a curtain. Darkness swallowed us as he walked me into a small room. My back hit cool stone, but it barely registered as Vaeron captivated me like a squall on the horizon.
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice barely audible, “what would you perform for me?”
A ragged exhale dragged through my throat. “The Ashrain.” There was no other that so perfectly captured my emotion for the male caging me. It was smoky, sultry, and mournful. Typically a soloist performance, which made enacting it all the more intimate.
He groaned—low and predatory. “Of course.”
My spine arched off the wall as I gazed up at him.
Why was it impossible to stay away from him? To deny that my mind was focused on the slight twist of his lips? On the memory of his body pressed against mine? On how I wanted him to do exactly that in this shadowed corner of the palace?
As if he read my mind—or I had projected my desire down our bond, he did.
“Sylaira, why do you torment me so?” he crooned against the curve of my neck. Pebbles dusted my skin as he pressed a kiss just below my ear. “I can’t sleep because your scent haunts my dreams. I can’t eat because food tastes like dirt compared to you.”
Each word was a slow unravelling of my defenses. I turned molten at my core. He shouldn’t have been able to undo me like this.
“I need you so, so badly.”
His knuckles ran along each of my ribs in a low, controlled motion, like he was mapping the way my body curved. Then, he trapped my waist in his large, calloused hands.
“You know what you have to do,” I panted as he trailed his mouth down the side of my neck to my exposed collarbone.
