“Idon’t suppose you received any news of the Vatruke while I was visiting with Awri?” I ask when the general closes his chamber doors behind us, well aware that if he’d learned anything it would be written across every hard line of his face.
“No. I doubt we will find them until they decide to reveal themselves to us. Which they will. All we can do until then is prepare for that day.” The general ushers me into the washroom. “The fea in the northern woods would have found the Vatruke encampment by now if Arda were not among them. He is a glier, like Awri.”
“He is hiding them?” I sound surprised, even to myself, and I’m not sure why I haven’t already drawn the same conclusion.
Of course, the Vatruke would have a means to hide themselves, along with the Drakai. Otherwise, they would never have sent so few to A’kori, not when their mission is less than peaceful. Though I still have no concept of the true power the feyn possess, I have to assume that if the Vatruke were powerful enough to go to war with their king and his subjects, they wouldhave done it long ago.
I was not raised to command an army, but Bront taught me enough about tactics to prickle the skin on my arms as I consider their options. Too few of them have come to commit themselves to open warfare. No. This will not be a fight of skill upon an open battlefield. If they are here to take lives, it will be through strategy and cunning.
The general smooths the line of my brow with this thumb, even as he tries to keep the frown from his own mouth. He knows it too, that all we can really do is remain on guard, hope for the best, and plan for the worst.
I know I need to think about it, about Vos, the La’tari, Felias and all that the man implied this afternoon; the sprites and the claims they made, all of the questions I allow to go unasked. But when the male behind me pulls me back against his chest and his mouth falls to my shoulder, I banish every thought but the feeling of his lips on my skin. I close my eyes and tip my head to the side, giving him access to my throat, smiling when I feel his fangs slide against the shallow veins throbbing beneath them.
“Are those just for show?” I ask, a coy smile on my face. “Or should I be concerned?”
I whirl around in his arms, lowering my eyes to the slender tips of his four pointed teeth.
“I would never give you a reason to fear me,mi’ajna. But if another ever bared their fangs at you, they would not live beyond that moment.”
I decide here and now that I will never explain to him the finer details of my encounter with Siserie. I have no doubt the male will make good on his threat, and I would truly hate to deprive Toren of the female’s life sentence.
“So, they are for violence?” I ask.
“Violence,” he assures me as his lips brush my temple, “and pleasure.” He purrs the last in my ear, and I shiver at the unspoken promise in his words.
“Show me,” I say, leaning into him, only considering the dangerous nature of my request once it’s already been spoken.
“Soon.” His eyes gleam with the promise of that future, but all I feel is regret.
My time here was never intended to last andsoonmay not comesoon enough.
It hasn’t been a particularly grueling day, but I don’t protest when the male slides my gown from my form, before undressing himself and leading me into the deep tub carved into the floor. If this is heaven, I’ll take it while it’s still within reach. Stars know, the barren halls of haliel are far more likely to be the accommodations of my future.
He doesn’t argue when I pile my hair on top of my head to keep it dry, though I’m prepared to remove the male’s hand from his body if he tries to wet it again. I lay back in his arms when he sits on the marble bench beneath the surface of the water and pulls me into his lap, both of us perfectly content to simplybe.
The quiet and stillness should be a reprieve, but as his hands work the tired muscles in my arms, my mind wanders to my conversation with Felias. Twisting around to face him, he draws my legs onto either side of his lap, eyeing me inquisitively. I open my mouth, only to snap it shut again, my eyes catching on the new bargain gracing his skin.
I’d forgotten about it since I first saw it this morning, and I trace the marking with my finger. The ancient script winds from the side of his arm, stopping at the center of his chest, where it bends like a hook over his heart. He watches my hand exploring the strange mark, covering it with his own when it stills where the trail ends, just above the base of his sternum.
It’s so entirely different than the simple dark bands that strap his sides that I can’t help but ask, “What was the bargain?”
“It’s a bond, Shivaria. Not a bargain.”
“It looks different,” I say.
“It is. Fea bargains have to be fulfilled. Bonds are given without agreement or price.”
His fingers trace the same line I followed on his skin, along the bare flesh of my own, from the side of my arm, all the way to my sternum. He watches me swallow my questions as I observe the path of his hand and he puffs out his frustration. I shoot him a glare, and he grips my waist before I can pull myself from his arms.
“Ask,mi’ajna. There is nothing in this world I would keep from you.”
I hum under my breath disbelievingly, and I have to ask myself ifthere is anything he would tell me that I will let myself believe.
“You still don’t trust me.” There is pain in his voice when he says it and the tone is a punch in the gut.
“You don’t trust me either,” I argue, not willing to admit that he has every reason not to trustme.
Even if I could trust the male, I’m not sure what I would ask him, where I would even begin. I’m still not entirely sure if I want to know everything or nothing at all. What will his answers change? Nothing. Just as Awri’s answers changed nothing.
