“You’re probably right about that,” I found myself saying. Especially my fucking sister. She’d mine these diamonds from my mate and grow even more brittle for it. She was a jealous, jealous female. Anything she even slightly perceived as a threat sent her into a state of agitation.
And Stadiel?
Well, he made me glad I’d been born male.
Sylaira cocked her head and studied me. “How do you know so much about Vaelaï?”
I straightened her out again, then dug my fingers into the bottom of her foot, massaging slow circles. The healer had told me keeping the muscles loose and supple was important, especially if she wanted to perch on her toes again.
This had all started from duty—hunting her, then helping her heal her injury. Yet now, after hearing just how accomplished she was, nothing was going to stop me from ensuringshe twirled for me. It was a selfish, greedy desire. Something that went against everything I should have been.
If she danced again—because of me—maybe, just maybe, she’d stop looking at me like I was the male who ruined her life.
A low groan slipped out of her, brows relaxing. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It will help you point again.”
A heartbeat passed, then another, as I continued to work on her foot.
Finally, she spoke, soft and low. “It will. But again, how do you know that?”
“I am the head of House Räviel. I grew up noble.” That reminder allotted me a semblance of sanity again. I knew who I was—the emotionless, dutiful brother of the Korona. The Issaraeth. A leader in his own right.
“My father insisted that we were cultured. He thought it would help my sister land in the bed of someone important. Someone more powerful than he was.”
“I see,” she commented.
“House Räviel was not always at Herr level. Before Iaoth married Stadiel, it was Kisst,” I added, wondering if she had known that.
“Really?” she questioned.
That gave me some answers about her age—she was young enough that she wasn’t around for the transition. It had caused quite a stir, so fresh after Stadiel had won his throne, to elevate my house and kick another down.
But he was a political puppeteer, more ruthless and cunning than even my own sire.
“Aye.” Finished massaging her foot, I moved to her calf. I couldn’t deny that I savored the chance to touch her.
I knew I could never truly have her. Not fully. Not freely.
She’d never willingly choose me, and I had to accept that.
Another sultry moan escaped her. “Fuck, that feels good.”
The sound sliced me like a blade. I wasn’t built to resist—to survive—a noise like that. Not anymore. Not when the bond twisted tighter like a noose.
A low rumble vibrated in my chest. “Still want me to stop?”
“No,” she breathed, a small laugh accompanying the word. Damn the moans, I wanted to hear more ofthat.
Silence stretched between us as I worked my way up her bare leg. Her skin was like silk between my fingers. Lightning arced over every nerve as I drifted to a new spot. Every sense was focused on what she felt, ensuring I wasn’t pressing too close to her injury and harming her further.
Yet I couldn’t shake the sense that I was still the monster she was keeping at arm’s length.
She watched me the entire time, coiled tight like she was about to spin into a starleap. I scooted higher along the edge of the bed, hand wrapping around her thigh. My thumbs dug into the center, and her lips parted slightly, like she was holding something back.
Her breath hitched. Fled entirely when I trailed higher, creeping closer to the apex of her thighs, hidden by the tunic swallowing her lithe frame. Supple muscles relaxed under my care, only to tighten in time with the chain linking us together.
Like a feral beast, it demanded I claim something from my mate.
