Page 28 of A Legacy of Stars (The Lost God Legacies)

28

STELLA

T he trapdoor creaked open and Teddy climbed inside just as Stella was beginning to worry something had happened to him. He closed the hatch and ran a hand through his hair, wringing out the rainwater into a puddle on the floor.

It wasn’t until Teddy walked over to her, grabbed the discarded towel from her head, and began to pat the ends of her hair dry that she realized she’d created her own small puddle on the floor behind her.

He knelt in front of her. “May I?”

She stared at him blankly.

“Wipe your face.”

“There’s blood on my face?” Stella’s voice was a breathless whisper. Panic surged through her body. She wanted it off—wanted to rid herself of every reminder of what she’d done.

Teddy wiped the damp towel across her cheek and jaw, following the rag with the brush of his thumb. “There you are. Though I admit the blood was kind of sexy.”

Stella stared at him, waiting to feel anything other than a bone-deep cold.

He placed a cup in her hands, keeping his palm beneath it when he realized how badly her hands were trembling. “Drink some water. It’s not a good idea to make a fire now, so I can’t make tea. This is the next best thing. Now, drink up and give me your hands.”

For once, she didn’t want to argue with him. She still felt half-dazed, but she was happy for his calm, commanding tone. Trying to process what had just happened felt impossible, but she could follow instructions.

She drank the entire cup of water as Teddy rifled around in his bag and returned a moment later with a clean pillowcase from one of the bunks and one of the small wooden stakes that she’d used to cook mushrooms over the fire earlier that day.

Teddy sat down in front of her and took her right hand in his. He flipped her palms face-down with shocking tenderness. To her horror, she realized that, though the rain had washed the blood from her skin, it lingered beneath her short fingernails.

He carefully went to work, using the pointed tip of the stake to scrape her nail beds clean.

“Look at my face, not what I’m doing,” he said.

Stella frowned at him. “I don’t want to look at your face.”

“Why not? You’re always telling me how handsome it is.”

She gasped out a laugh. “It is. It’s irritating.”

He arched a brow but kept his gaze on his work. “Is it?”

“Yes. It’s distracting. Especially that scar on your lower lip.”

He met her eyes, then his gaze dropped to her lips. “Well, then, it sounds like we’re even, because I also find your mouth very distracting. That little bow on your upper lip. Can’t stop staring at it.”

Warmth spread through Stella’s cheeks, the first she’d felt since she’d come in from the rain.

He continued his ministrations, stroking a thumb over the top of her hand as he worked. “I was sixteen,” he murmured. “The first time I killed someone.”

Stella stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why?”

She meant why because the war was over. Why? Because he was a prince and had people to do his dirty work for him. Why? Because Xander and Jessamin had always seemed regal but warm, parents who would do anything to protect their children.

Teddy sighed and licked his lips. “I was very young and so cocky. You know how it is—your parents are warriors, you think that it will be easy. As if it passes down through blood and it will be as simple as the swipe of a blade.”

Stella knew exactly what he meant. When violence was theoretical, or just for the fun of knocking Leo on his ass and getting bragging rights, it was easy. But when faced with the bloody reality, she felt wholly unprepared.

Teddy paused for a moment, wiping the tip of the stake on the towel. The lantern light guttered, sending shadows scattering across Teddy’s face. The wind whistled through cracks in the treehouse walls.

“I suppose it is easier when it’s necessary,” he said softly.

Teddy was cleaning up the remnants so she wouldn’t see them later and relive it, and he was telling her this story—this very private story—to distract her. He was doing everything possible to make this easier for her.

A lump formed in Stella’s throat, and the shocking numbness in her chest started to dissipate.

“In Novum it’s a rite of passage,” Teddy continued. “My mother, Isla, and Aunt Maren were all entered into tournaments where they were expected to get their first kill at sixteen.” He shook his head and moved on to cleaning the nails of her other hand. “My father hated the idea. It is one of the few fights I’ve ever seen my parents have, and it was bad. In the end, my mother won, as she always does. Having Isla’s support sealed my fate, I think.”

Stella studied him with rapt fascination. He’d always been so contained. Was it pity that made him share something so personal?

“They took me to Novum, to a first kill’s tournament. I was so nervous. Everyone was watching. My parents, my grandmother, Isla and Maren. Everyone I looked up to. Everyone I knew was strong. And, of course, all of the competitors were hoping to get a crack at me. Prince of Argaria and grandson of the queen of Novum. ”

Stella couldn’t imagine having someone she loved and respected witnessing her first kill like that.

“He was eighteen. His name was Alvin Arlume. He’d just completed the final forging from Callemoore. I was terrified to face off against someone who had finished the Novumi warrior training program, but my grandmother thought it was important that I fight the best.”

“How did you win?” Stella asked.

Teddy paused his work and was silent for a long moment. “I am used to shutting down the feeling part of my brain. I just shoved it all away. It was him or me and I was willing. I didn’t know for sure until the moment my blade slid between his ribs. I remember what that felt like. It changes you, and I’m sorry that you have to know that.”

His gentleness frightened her. All she could do was watch as he scraped the dried blood from beneath her nails, wiped her hands down with a bit of water and whiskey from his flask.

He met her gaze, his eyes soft in the dim lamplight, and she knew all at once that this wasn’t a secret shared out of pity.

It was in the way he was looking at her, in the tender way he squeezed her hands. He’d shared this story with her because he wanted her to feel less alone.

“You almost died,” she rasped.

“But I didn’t. You saved me.”

“What if we die in this tournament—or from the assassins sent by the Sons of Endros? What if I die before—” She caught herself just in time. Right before she admitted the mortifying truth.

She was terrified she’d die before she had experienced her fairy tale love.

“My father isn’t going to let the Sons on his council and neither will King Marcos. There’s no way that they will respond to this kind of manipulation by giving those tyrants what they want. As soon as you start negotiating that way, you can never stop. That way lies madness and chaos.” He ran his thumbs over the tops of her hands in a soothing rhythm. “Now, what were you about to say?”

“I don’t want to die before I have a chance at the same kind of love my parents have. I know I—” She blew out a breath, feeling properly mortified by the honesty. “I know you think it’s stupid and frivolous, but they are a literal fairy tale. It takes time to build that. I want the chance to know someone like that and to be known.”

Teddy brushed a tear from her cheek.

Stella shuddered, blowing out a breath to avoid sobbing. “I want the chance to actually live . I have to. I cannot give up now. Especially now. This is what stories are made of. They’re nothing without conflict.” Her chest was so tight that she could barely breathe, but the words would not stop tumbling out of her. “But what if I’ve picked a conflict I can’t survive—or, worse, what if I’ve picked a conflict that turns me into someone unlovable?”

“You haven’t. You were so brave tonight. Any man who isn’t impressed by your courage in the face of danger isn’t worth your time, anyway.” He hummed low. “Watching you wield those blades. Gods, Stella. I was mesmerized.”

“Don’t patronize me. I’m not going to break. I’m just going to fissure a little. I’ll be fine in the morning,” she whispered. But even as she said it, she wasn’t sure. She felt so different, like the old version of her had left her body, like some part of her was gone.

“We should get you out of those wet clothes so you can warm up.”

“You know there are easier ways to get me naked than almost getting yourself killed,” she said.

His face lit up with a wicked smile, and warmth surged through the bond. “There you are, Minyha . You had me worried for a few minutes there.” He nodded at her shirt. “Seriously, though. You should take it off. I can give you another shirt.”

She could have waited for him to turn away, but Stella stood and undid the buckles on her vest, letting it fall to the floor. Gripping the bottom edge of his shirt, she pulled it off and tossed it aside. She stared at him where he still knelt on the floor—daring him to look away.

Teddy’s gaze raked over her slowly.

“Does that please, Your Grace? ”

Teddy’s throat bobbed. “It does. Would please me more if you let me touch you.”

Stella hesitated. Just a few days ago, this scenario was unimaginable, but now it felt inevitable. She didn’t just want him to touch her. She wanted to feel him everywhere. She wanted him to blot out what she’d done and untangle the knotted mix of emotions inside her with pleasure. After what they’d done in the cabin, she felt confident he could.

“On one condition.”

Teddy looked up at her from his knees. “Name it.”

She liked seeing him like that—supplicant and waiting for her permission. She felt a strange satisfaction seeing a prince humbled only for her.

“Promise you’re not doing this because you feel like you owe me.”

“The only thing I owe you is the follow-through on what I didn’t get to do in that cabin,” Teddy said. “Now get on the bed.”

Stella sat down on the captain’s bed and watched as he stood and unbuttoned his pants.

Teddy was glorious, vital, storm-blown, shirtless, damp hair curling ever so slightly. He stood over her and she laid back, letting him look his fill.

She wasn’t normally so comfortable being stared at, but with all they had been through in the past few days, she felt like he already knew her, like there was nothing he would find that he didn’t somehow already know.

His gaze was hooded, hungry in a way that made her clench her thighs together.

Stella didn’t want to worry anymore. Her body was taut with fear and her heart so heavy with grief that she worried if she lay on the treehouse floor, she’d never get back up.

Teddy crawled over her and cupped her face with one hand. “Tell me what you need, because if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think it’s something similar to what I gave you last night.”

“Make me feel good.”

He kissed down the valley between her breasts but paused at her stomach. His fingers skimmed her side, and she went rigid when she realized why. Her scar.

She’d forgotten it was there. She was so desperate to feel his hands all over her. She hadn’t kept any clothing on and now he could see the mark her foolishness had left on her.

His callused fingers scraped tenderly over the ugly skin before he kissed each of the points of the mark.

“Don’t—” she gasped.

He frowned. “Why?”

“It’s ugly. It ruined my constellation.” She traced the freckles on her side without needing to look. She’d felt that pattern traced into her skin so frequently that she could retrace it by touch alone.

“No, Minyha . Your constellation isn’t ruined. It’s remade.” He brushed his lips over the jagged scar. “I didn’t see it before the scar, but this is beautiful. Look at what you’ve conquered. I only see your strength written on your skin.”

Stella looked away, tears pricking at her eyes. Surely he was just saying that. Of course scars could be beautiful. The matching crescent scars on her parents’ hands, or the golden ones over their hearts—those were beautiful scars made from love. This was an ugly reminder of how much she’d miscalculated and of what her failure could cost.

He kissed the mark. “Tell me how to help.”

“I want.” That was the complete thought. She didn’t want one thing. She wanted all the things. She wanted to forget, to feel everything and nothing, to feel pain and pleasure, to feel cared for and used. She was made of want.

And Teddy instinctively understood.

He wrapped his arms under her thighs and pinned her hips to the bed. He held her gaze as he slowly licked up her center. The eye contact alone was obscene, but the sensation and the way he flicked his tongue over her clit sent a shiver through her body.

Teddy feasted on her, fucking her with his tongue like a man possessed. He didn’t slow down when she clawed at his wrists, didn’t mellow his pace when an orgasm shook through her. She arched, and he lifted her hips off the bed, holding her suspended, her shoulders still on the bed as he fought to keep control of her squirming body. He didn’t stop until she was practically sobbing and every bit of pain in her body was transmuted into pleasure.

He slowly lowered her back to the bed, kissing her inner thighs, then her stomach, the scars on both her sides, her breasts, and finally her mouth.

Teddy caged her in, looking down on her with smug satisfaction on his face that was very much earned. “Are you satisfied?”

“I want more,” she rasped.

Teddy groaned against her inner thigh. “Thank fucking gods.”

He stood and shoved off his pants, fisting his cock in his hand.

She hated that it was so perfect. He was perfect everywhere else; he didn’t also deserve to have a perfect cock. He was big and thick, but not so much so that she didn’t think she could take it.

He spit into his hand and stroked himself roughly a couple of times before kneeling on the bed and notching himself at her entrance.

Painstakingly slowly, he pushed inside her. She wanted him to speed up, to slow down, to stop looking into her eyes like he was enamored, to stop being so handsome and kind because it made her feel terrified and safe at the same time.

She felt every inch as he stretched her.

She whimpered, and he paused. “Too much?”

She shook her head. “Not enough.”

He pushed deeper, until he was fully seated inside her. Stella felt completely grounded with that sensation, the feeling of his body warm and firm on top of her, and the pulsing hum of their bond. The calm affection running back and forth between them through their connection was overwhelming. Her lust, his joy. His need, her anxiety.

She waited for him to move, but he stayed there, unmoving, kissing her for a long time.

“Gods, you feel so good,” he whispered against her mouth. “The bond is killing me. I know you want me to move, but I’m trying to keep myself from fucking you through the bed, Minyha .”

She wanted to ask him what it meant for the hundredth time but was also afraid to know now.

“Please,” she moaned.

That plea was all it took. He drew his hips back and thrust into her. They both gasped. He was so deep, but she wanted him deeper. His hand came beneath her lower back and tilted her hips to give her more friction on her clit each time he moved.

Her eyes rolled back, and her groan dissolved into a string of expletives. Teddy chuckled and dragged his teeth over her nipple. She arched into him.

It was alarming how quick of a study he’d made of her pleasure. Stella could already feel the first bit of pressure mounting. She had not even mastered her own body so well.

He moved faster, hips rolling, churning, his hands holding her firmly in place so she had the best angle. The combination of his mouth on her breasts, neck, and jaw, the thick glide of his cock, and the friction of his body against her was driving her out of her mind. She dug her heels into his ass and urged him deeper.

She felt like she was drowning, and also like she would die if he let her up for air. Her body was alive in a way it had never been—burning with a fever she had never known and didn’t understand.

He stared down at where their bodies were joined. “You’re so perfect, Minyha . You’re taking me so well.”

Stella shuddered at the praise.

“All you needed was to feel me right—” He changed the angle of her hips and his cock nudged something inside her that ratcheted her pleasure even higher. “There. Right there. I knew you needed that because this is what only I can do for you.”

It was so possessive and hot. He kept her hips at that angle, moving faster and then slowing each time she got close. Her whole body was rigid, muscles clenching and unclenching.

“Teddy, please . ”

That was all it took. He steadied his rhythm and fucked her harder.

The climax came over her so hard she screamed—a guttural, wrenching sob of a scream that came from the same place that felt numbed over since she’d killed the assassins.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and it felt like every emotion had been wrung out of her body at once. She tucked her face into his neck and urged him faster, praying he wouldn’t notice the way he was breaking her apart and putting her back together with only his body.

She scraped her fingernails down his abs. Gods, he was sexy. She’d seen plenty of men spar shirtless, but she’d never seen anyone who looked like this—like he was sculpted by the gods themselves. She slid her hands to his hips, urging him on.

She needed him to finish now, because if he made her come again, she was going to fall apart and become a sobbing mess.

It was like he read it in her body—maybe some understanding of their bond let him feel it, because he slowed down and drew back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Stella.”

He said her name with such softness as he kissed away her tears.

“You’re so beautiful. It’s exhausting trying not to look at you all the time.”

“That’s just the bond,” she rasped.

“It’s not. I have always thought that. I think it’s part of why I was mean.”

Stella laughed. “Because you were mad that I’m pretty.”

“Because I thrived on control, and I can’t control myself around you.”

She wanted him to stop saying sweet things and fuck her. She wanted it hot and dirty, like it had been in the cabin. This had turned into something too vulnerable, and she felt like a raw wound.

“But you are gorgeous.” He brushed his finger over the scar on her side as he said it to emphasize the point. “Even more so with these marks of your courage. And I know you want me to be rough right now, but what you need is what I’m giving you. ”

He pumped his hips slowly and kissed her. Stella met his rhythm, curling her legs around his waist. He groaned and buried his face in her neck, mumbling incomprehensible praise into her skin.

Teddy’s fingers were bruising on her hips. He was trying to hold out, as if he was certain there was more pleasure left for him to squeeze out of her, but Stella was exhausted, emotionally raw, and afraid that, if he kept looking at her that way, she would completely fall apart.

Even now, the bond tugged in her chest like a hook connected to his heart; like she would never get enough of this—whatever this was.

Just sex. Just comfort , a voice in her head said.

But she knew that was a lie. He wasn’t looking at her like this was just physical. What she felt deep in her chest was not just physical.

She pressed her heels against his lower back, holding him deeper inside of her, and he moaned and found his release with a few jerky movements of his hips.

He drew back, meeting her eyes. She found her confusion and muddy emotions reflected there. Mercifully, he said nothing. Instead, he flopped onto the bed beside her, allowing their breathing to settle.

Stella lay on her back, feeling wrung out and shaken, her whole body alive with pleasure.

They were quiet for a few long moments, listening to the storm raging outside and the creak of the branches around them.

“You know, I always thought you liked being heir. It seemed like it came so easily to you.”

He sighed. “Well, now you know it doesn’t.”

“I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even really think of you as a person. More a sort of icon—a living ideal,” she said.

He scoffed. “I’m not really a person most of the time. I’m a title.”

She was quiet. “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about it. I never really thought about the way people talk to you. The way I talked to you. Has anyone else asked you what you want?”

Teddy sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, a percussive tap on the treehouse roof .

“I’m not sure I even know what I want. I only seem to know what I don’t want.”

Stella smiled, running her fingers through his hair.

He tilted his head so he could kiss her palm. “I don’t want to get up early. I don’t want to dress in fancy clothes. I don’t want to be proper and act like a figurehead instead of a person. My parents are performers, but I am not. I did not inherit their ease the way Jalen, Jules, and Alex did. Everyone else in my family is so at home in their roles and I am just eternally exhausted by mine. It’s like I’m another species shoved into the wrong family.”

“Alexandra doesn’t exactly blend,” Stella whispered.

Teddy laughed, the sound deep and rumbling and so rare that Stella couldn’t help but smile.

“She doesn’t,” he said. “But she is at ease in herself. It’s the rest of us who are wrong in her estimation and she who’s at home in her role.”

Stella grinned at that. Alexandra Savero had always been quite composed, wearing her leather armor instead of dresses, even as a little girl. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t let anyone, not even a king or queen, tell her what she ought to wear, say, or do.

“I always admired that.”

Teddy smiled softly. “As do I.”

Stella drew her fingers down his chest, tracing the ruts that defined the muscles of his abdomen. Goosebumps rose on his skin, but he didn’t stop her.

“What would you want? If you could have anything?” she asked.

“Some fucking peace and quiet. I want to lie in bed all day reading nonsense stories instead of history or battle tactics. I want to learn to swim without being afraid, for fuck’s sake. And the only crown I want to wear is the kind made of daisies like the ones you used to make me when we were young.”

Stella blinked at him in disbelief. He’d hated her for so long that she’d forgotten the way they’d been when they were children spending summer days on the beach, ripping flowers from the cliffside trail to try to make crowns as grand as the ones her father used to make her with his dexterous carpenter’s hands.

“But it doesn’t matter what I want. It may as well be a wish. The kingdoms are too unstable for me to be so selfish. As much as I’d like to run off and be free to live on my whims, I love my kingdom and my people, even if they don’t love me back. I can’t abandon them when they need me. My father told me once that being a great king is like being a parent—that you love your people unconditionally, whether they love you or hate you. I’ve never felt that so keenly as I do now.”

They both went silent, and Stella wondered if they were thinking about how close he’d come to being relieved of that role just hours ago.

Stella shook her head, trying to blot out the memory, but her magic wanted to pull it up over and over. Memory magic could be like that; a mind turning over and over, constantly drawn back to the past, always slipping into daydream and memory. Her mother was like that, but Stella was normally much better at staying present.

The guilt left her with the haunting uneasiness that the assassins might not be the last lives she took.

Teddy, clearly sensing the direction of her thoughts, pushed her onto her side and yanked her back against his front so his body was curled around her.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep,” he murmured into her ear.

Make m e. She was so tempted to say it aloud, but the comfort of someone protectively holding her while she slept was a luxury she’d never experienced.

He pressed his palm over her sternum and the bond felt warm and bright, calmed by Teddy’s proximity. It was like this hollow in his arms was the space she was made to fill, and the moment she was tucked safely into it, sleep came to claim her.