“No.” I spat the word. Fuck him. He could waste more of his magic if he felt so noble about covering me.
Was it foolish to reject a modicum of relief from the rain? Of course. But he’d taken so much from me already. And this, this was something I could control.
A rumble of frustration rippled out of him. “Look at me.”
I pinned my gaze on the ground, forcing one foot in front of the other as the muck sucked on each boot.
He halted, and so did I, still just outside the reach of his undulating magic. When he spun to face me, my fingers tightened of their own accord, curling into claws.
“Sylaira.” He said my name like a command. I hated it. His hand extended like he was going to touch me, and I flinched away, shoulder rising to protect my face.
“Fucking Goddess,” he swore, raking his fingers through his long hair as he so often did when he was frustrated. Which, apparently, was his default state around me.
But it needed to remain that way. He couldn’t know, couldn’t even capture a hint, that we might be bonded. A male like him would only use it to twist and break me.
And I’d kill myself before I let that happen.
This time, he grabbed my shoulder, drawing me in closer.
“We need to get out of this,” he shouted over the roaring of the storm, adding more power to his canopy. Some of the noise silenced with the extension.
His fingers gripped my chin like he was going to forcibly turn my head.
My lungs seized as I jerked back.
Overhead, clicking cut through the tempest. The Issaraeth glanced up just as my gaze lifted.
The vines constricting my chest eased when a flash of somethingcrystalline circled us.
Ilae.
The auravane, I’d learned, was bonded to the Issaraeth.
Poor creature.
The Issaraeth released me, focus still trained on his bird. “There’s a carved out tree just ahead. We can use the canvas to keep dry too.”
Heart thudding against my ribs, I exhaled a slow, shaky breath. I’d almost shared Ilae’s fate; I’d never been more grateful for a bird in my life. Before my mate could look at me again, I ducked my head.
A heavy sigh escaped the Issaraeth when I still didn’t respond.
He thought my silence was defeat; it was survival. Because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t certain I could swallow the rage building inside me.
A tug on the rope connected to my bronze shackles had me angling off from the path we’d been walking. Even though the Issaraeth was only paces away, the thick fog blurred his form. How he could see anything in this downpour was beyond me.
Minutes passed, and then a massive, ancient tree emerged from the mist. Its trunk, broad enough that I couldn’t have wrapped my arms around it even if there were ten of me, held an opening wide enough for one person to enter at a time. The Issaraeth ascended the carved steps, tugging me along behind him.
Inside was blissfully warm and dry, save for where we dripped onto its base. I shuffled off to one side, focusing on the dozens of rings at my feet, while the Issaraeth pulled out a canvas from his pack and secured it over the opening to keep out further rain. The seal hushed the torrent, and my ears rang for a moment as they adjusted to the silence.
Boots appeared in my vision. I backed deeper into the tree’s trunk.
“Do you want something dry to wear?” the Issaraeth asked.
I did, more than anything. But I wouldnotdon his clothing.
“I’m fine.” The blatant lie rolled off my tongue with ease.
He scoffed, then unslung his bag. It landed on the ground with a thud. When he crouched to rummage through it, I snapped my attention up. For a brief moment, I took in the sight of my mate, a scowl etched into his expression. But before he could feel the weight of my judgment, I continued skyward, peering into the depths of our tree haven.
