Page 31 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

I blink. My skin is oversensitive, and most of the room turns to chaos.

The elves swirl around me, dancing closer than I’d seen two people touch. They kiss. They laugh.

It all scrapes against me. The heat in my core intensifies, spreading through my limbs like wildfire. Vann turns to me, concern spreading across his features as he sees the flush creeping up my neck.

“Are you all right?” he asks, leaning in closer.

The feel of his breath ghosting over my skin makes my breast ache. I want to kiss him, to feel his lips. To eliminate the space between our bodies, and explore the inside of his mouth with mine. I want him to touch me, and then to show him the fastest way to make my body come apart. I want him to hold me close and never let go. The sudden rush of desire is overwhelming, pulsing through my veins like a fever.

I force myself to look away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment at the intensity of my longing. I take a deep breath, willing the heat within me to simmer down.

“I-I think I just need some air,” I manage to stammer out, pushing back from the table .

Vann's hand reaches out to stop me, his touch sending sparks of electricity through my body. “Let me come with you,” he offers, concern evident in his eyes.

I shake my head quickly, afraid to trust myself alone with him at this moment. “No, it's fine. I'll be back soon.”

With that, I turn, pulling my hand away, and practically run from the hall, desperate to escape the sensation of being consumed by flames from the inside out. The cool night air hits me like a balm as I step outside, trying to steady my ragged breaths and clear my head.

I walk briskly, putting distance between myself and the hall, hoping the cool night air will extinguish the fire raging within me.

As I wander through the moonlit path, I reach a fence protecting someone from going too close to the edge. My mind whirls. The touch of Vann's hand still lingers on my skin, and I still ache from head to toe.

When I shift, slickness spreads over my inner thighs.

Was something in that wine?

Lost in my tumultuous thoughts, I freeze as a shadow falls over me. My heart pounds, and there is a hollow ache in my lower belly. I turn to find Vann standing behind me, his eyes dark with concern.

"Arlet, you don’t seem well,” he asks, reaching out a hand towards me.

Before I can respond, a gust of wind brushes over my skin, almost painfully exquisite. I gasp, my head tilting back at the intense sensation.

The air between Vann and I feels thick. It’s hard to breathe.

“Did—did you drink the wine?” I ask, chest heaving from the heady sensation.

"I didn’t,” he admits softly, his gaze never leaving mine. "Arlet, what's happening to you?"

I try to form words, to explain the overwhelming desire coursing through me, but it feels impossible. The world around us blurs at the edges, narrowing down to just Vann and me in our own sphere of heated tension. A surge of panic shoots through me, fueled by the fire still burning within.

Need bleeds out of every pore. Without thinking, I spin on my heel and break into a sprint, desperate to get away from him. A new need blossoms—a desire that he would catch me. That he would hold me tightly, as tightly as he did in Mrath’s enclave.

That I’d have new memories—sweet ones—to replace my nightmares.

To my delight, Vann is fast. With a few swift strides, he catches up to me and effortlessly lifts me over his shoulder, my half-hearted protests muffled against his back, as my heart pounds.

"Let me go!" I cry out, the world tilting around me as he carries me back toward our room.

As we near the entrance, a figure steps into our path, blocking Vann's way. The elf looks between Vann and me and then begins to laugh before stepping back. He says something taunting to Vann, who immediately snaps at him.

The cool air against my skin does nothing to ease the heat. The way that Vann holds me over his shoulder is uncomfortable, and doesn’t allow friction in any of the right places.

Delicious images fill my mind of his hand pushing my skirts out of the way and then, finding just how wet I am.

My head spins as I use my hands to prop myself up, and look around. We’re still not back at our small house. It would be inappropriate to?—

Vann’s hand goes around my ankle and I moan. My mind is foggy, but I can feel how his grip tightens, and he speeds his pace up. Dizzy, I let my head fall once more.

Before I know it, he is easing me off his shoulder, and placing me on the bed. I gasp out a breath and my chest heaves.

“What the fuck is wrong with these elves?” he grits out. I watch him light the fire, and then he begins pacing.

A fierce ache pulses within me as Vann walks away, his frustration palpable. I watch him, my heartbeat felt in my breasts, belly, and sex. The memory of his touch sends shivers down my spine.

"Vann," I call out softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I sit up unsteadily on the bed. He stops in his tracks, turning to face me. Those silver eyes that remind me of metal back home. I love to see them .

“Stop pacing and come here,” I demand.

"This isn't right," he mutters, brushing hair out of his eyes. "None of this is right."

“What?” I demand, oversensitive. The wound of being not chosen surges within me. “Not right because I’m not your mate?”

My eyes fill with tears, and it is a dreadful thing to feel while aroused. Like I’m getting torn in half.

He freezes, then immediately comes to my side. “Oh gods, no Arlet. I’m sorry. I meant that…”

I reach for him.

“Come here,” I say. The heat is so intense, it has gone from pleasurable to painful. My thighs rub together, and they slide with ease.

"Vann, please," I implore. I want to scream, to jump into ice water. “Help me.”

He freezes, then turns. His chest rises and falls once, and then he comes to my side.

“Firelocks, I should’ve realized there was something wrong with the wine. This isn’t you—this heat. Forgive me. I should’ve picked up on something when Theren kept going on and on about heat and fire,” he says, holding my hand to his icy cheek.

I want to cry. His eyes flutter closed when I brush my fingers along his jaw.

He smooths his thumb over my knuckles, the gesture soothing and electric at the same time. “We should never have drunk anything that wasn’t water. I won’t let this happen again.”

Another pulse of heat sweeps over me. I rock forward, desperate for a bit of friction. I trusted him so much.

He once had the power to break me, and he refused. He is safe. He has spent the last month teaching me how to trust.

I wanted to feel that connection on a deeper level. Wanted it to sizzle in the air between us. Wanted to give him pieces of me to care for.

But he is right—this isn’t normal. I’d been heated all night. Something was off.

Except, this isn’t the first time I’d been aroused by him. That he’d made my thighs slick and my lower stomach ache hollow .

But I didn’t know how to do this.

“Vann—” I start, and a part of me can’t believe I’m about to ask him, to beg him to come to me. To slide his hands up my legs and get me off. My head swims with sensation and fantasy. “I think I want the kiss now.”

“Arlet,” he growls. “No—your mind is altered. I would be taking advantage.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “But what if I ask you to come to me, to put your hands on my body?”

“The heat will pass soon, Firelocks.”

I focus on breathing and close my eyes. “It will pass soon?” I pant.

He nods. “Yes.”

“And you won’t touch me?”

“No,” he says. “But I will stay if you want me to. Or?—”

“Stay,” I choke out. Reaching for his hands, I cling to him so tightly, it must hurt. “Tell me a story.”

“I don’t like telling stories,” he says.

“Please? I need something to distract me—” a sharp burn licks at my stomach.

“Fine, I can tell you a story. I’ll make it romantic, just for you,” he says, sitting back so that he can face me on the bed.

"Once upon a stone,” Vann starts, his voice low, "there was a man with an empty chest. His heart was gone, traded away, and wasted through tragedy. So he walked through life, untouched by warmth or wonder and bound only by duty, until the day he met a woman. A beautiful woman.”

I hold my breath, my gaze locked on his face.

"He thought she was fragile," Vann continues, his eyes flicking to mine. "But he was wrong. She was fierce, and fought him when he acted like an ass. Everyone thought he hated her, even him.”

The dim light reflects in his silver eyes, soft and searching. “But, in reality, he was afraid of her. Furious at her kindness and calming demeanor. More than any war or monster, she threatened the cold future he’d built for himself. Of course, that all changed when he found out she was in danger.”

My mind is fully homed onto his words .

“Then what?”

“He followed her. She made him feel a lot of things, though it hurt like getting crushed by a fucking boulder. Then, slowly, it stopped hurting so much, not because of magic, but because of her. Through the way she saw the world. You see, she stopped looking at the world with fear. She found wonder.”

Vann’s mouth tilts into a small, crooked smile. “The fool watched as the woman who had only lived for others began to live for herself. It inspired him—made him want to live, too.”

The desire ebbs so harshly that I double over in pain. It takes a second for me to come to, but I find Vann leaning over me when I do.

I wince. Then ask, “Why was this man without a heart? Is that an expression or…?”

Vann’s expression shifts, the humor slipping away like mist burned off by the morning sun. His jaw tightens.

“It is literal. He traded it,” he says softly. “Long ago.”

The flames crackle, casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. I swallow against the lump in my throat.

“For what?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.

Vann’s eyes return to mine, glacier-bright and filled with something raw and unspoken. "For a love he wasn't supposed to have. A promise made in a moment of myopic devotion." His voice dips lower, rougher. "Now, he's torn in half—haunted by a woman who no longer lives, and drawn to one he shouldn't be allowed to want."

The fire crackles. My breath catches. I don’t know what to say.

“Is that story real?” I manage.

“Are any stories real?” he responds. “You read quite a lot of them.”

I think for a second, but he interrupts my addled mind.

“Do you feel more like yourself yet?” Vann asks abruptly.

I open my mouth, trying to think back to the story, to my questions, but they become thin. Flying like severed cobwebs caught in a breeze.

“What did you say?”

“I said, do you feel better?”

I swallow,then nod my head .

He smiles. “The exhaustion will come soon. Rest, for we will travel in the morning.”

And then he turns away and begins preparing his bed. He’s right, soon, my limbs feel heavy and my lids droop.

A voice sounds in my ear.

“If you still want this after the heat passes, you know where to find me.”

I try to open my eyes, but I feel heavy. Tired. All I can manage is a soft smile.

For the first time in a long while, I think of home. Of the blanket I’d been weaving in my room. I realize what is supposed to come next.

Daniel—a rocky river I couldn’t cross.

Joso—a sun-soaked meadow that wasn’t meant for me.

I’d started to weave an emerald forest. Vann is like that forest—a vast place I could spend a lifetime discovering.