Page 25 of A Song of Air (Fae Elementals #4)

B ryson knew what Arlo was doing.

He was keeping her busy.

Him or Everett or both, she wasn’t sure. One thing was certain, they were doing everything in their power to keep her away from the Resistance. He’d spent the next few days giving her task after task. From night watches, to patrolling the perimeter, to insignificant things that consumed most of her days.

She had no time to breathe, let alone speak to Malika or catch a glimpse of the Resistance. Spending so much time helping the community did nothing to quiet the tumultuous thoughts that plagued her. Her chest throbbed whenever she caught a whiff of Malika in passing, along with the scent of her sister. Malika never seemed to notice Bryson anymore. It made Bryson feel forgotten and small.

She knew Arlo was punishing her for bringing them to camp and lying. And Everett was probably backing him because he wanted to keep her away from Weylyn.

Maybe she did deserve a punishment for it, for potentially putting the camp in danger by inviting strangers in, but Arlo was letting his prejudice get the better of him. She was sure he didn’t know what to do with the Resistance. He couldn’t kill them because of Bryson’s proclaimed life debt, and he didn’t want to look hypocritical in front of his people.

He had barely spoken to Bryson since he’d berated her and had made Ev give her the tasks instead. Ev always did so with an angry gleam in his eye.

Things at the camp were shifting. Even the people inside. Her own people had grown hesitant, Malika had grown louder, Arlo had retreated beneath a dark and dangerous cloud, and Ev had become more demanding of her, and it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

When she finally got a surprising moment of free time, she felt herself wander towards camp. Her people were in the midst of sparring while the Resistance looked on. She felt the tension through the air, a charge of competition. Their camp always trained hard, but she could hear in the heavy clang of their swords the way they trained even harder, longer, faster.

She winced when Ev’s sword cracked against Oliver’s in a reverberating clang of thunder. It sent Oliver flying; Bryson heard the expel of breath right after his back slammed against the ground.

Ev laughed, and Bryson gritted her teeth against the teasingly cruel quality of the sound. It was followed by him walking over to Oliver and hauling him up from the ground. His clap on the back could be heard from far away, as could the laughter.

Bryson knew why he was acting this way. Because Weylyn was watching. They all were. She wanted to sigh. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told Ev that he had nothing to worry about when it came to her supposed mate, he wasn’t going to believe it, and he was going to keep at it as if he had something to prove. To Weylyn. To the Resistance. To Bryson.

Bryson didn’t like that attitude. Instead of taking her word for it, of trusting in her loyalty, he became cruel and possessive. It wasn’t that she didn’t sometimes admire those qualities in a person, but they seemed very out of place for Everett, and it made Bryson very uncomfortable.

She tried to put herself in a place of understanding. He was competing with a mating bond gifted from Mana. He knew what that implied and the importance of it, so maybe he felt the need to challenge everything to demonstrate his own power to Weylyn.

An unnecessary pissing contest, if she did say so herself.

“An exceptional display,” Clay called out from the side of the Resistance. It made everyone quiet. “You all have yourselves a fine set of skills in your camp.” The glide of a blade sounded, the swish as it was twirled through the air, though he was nothing but a blur to Bryson. “Would anyone care to train with us ?”

Bryson sucked in a breath and held it. The others would defer to Ev; they always did. And she knew without a doubt what his answer would be.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth and a false air of confidence.

He would hate to appear weak in front of his competition.

She watched as he lifted his sword, and she didn’t have to look to know where he was pointing it. “But I want to fight him first.”

Though she couldn’t see Clay’s expression clearly, she could just make out the nervous confusion right before he turned towards where Weylyn sat perched against the stump of a tree. Leaning forward, watching, his black braid swaying.

Bryson had tried very hard not to look in his direction when she walked into the camp, but she couldn’t deny that she was aware of his exact position, of his gaze sliding heatedly down her backside. She could feel the unspoken words between them, like they were a whispered caress in her mind that she had to fight away at every turn.

She didn’t look at him then either. She couldn’t take her eyes off Ev. Her eyes begged Ev to look at her so she could ask him what in the actual fuck he thought he was doing. Bryson was very aware of the skills her boyfriend possessed. He knew how to fight. He was an excellent strategist. But he was going up against not just any Fae but a Fae that had already threatened his death.

Not that Ev knew about that last part, and Bryson had no plans on telling him that. It would just spark more animosity than there already was, and it wasn’t worth it.

Her hands began sweating and she rubbed them against her knees to push away the anxiety.

She watched as Weylyn’s figure extended slowly. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could feel his eyes on Everett. Every movement he made was unhurried and felt almost calculated. Purposeful. She didn’t know the Fae at all, but even she could note the predatory, murderous intent in the set of his body.

Bryson’s breaths grew labored. Her legs locked tightly against the ground, avoiding the urge to run and stand beside Ev, as if that could ward off the Fae’s approach. She couldn’t do that now. If she did, it would not only offend Ev but also make him look weak in front of everyone. She knew that, of course she did, and yet she wanted to do it anyway.

Weylyn prowled towards Ev, though when he passed Clay, the Fae put a hand on Weylyn’s shoulder, stopping his trajectory. “Wait,” Clay said. He sounded uncertain. “You can’t—”

Weylyn shook Clay off and leveled him with a stare that Bryson couldn’t quite make out. “The human wants to fight,” he purred. “Let us fight.”

Clay shuffled from one foot to another. She wondered if he could also read the potential danger and disaster that could come from this. Instead, he sighed and reluctantly lifted his sword in Weylyn’s direction.

Weylyn shook his head. “I do not need a sword.”

Bryson’s neck heated and she knew Ev’s was probably doing the same. Weylyn was openly and very obviously insulting him.

This was definitely going to be a disaster.

Clay moved aside and Ev and Weylyn were alone, facing one another in silence. There was a charge in the air. Weylyn stood preternaturally still, placing his hands behind his back, clasping them together. He appeared like he was unbothered, unworried.

Everette lifted his sword and pointed it in the Fae’s direction. “Shall we begin? Or will you continue to stare at me?”

Weylyn didn’t reply. It was as if he wasn’t there at all.

Bryson squinted as if that could fix her vision and allow her to see their features any clearer. It didn’t. It only made her temples pound with the beginning of a headache.

“Well?” Ev prompted.

Still, Weylyn didn’t move.

Ev shifted forward. “Very well.”

And then he struck.

Faster than an average human could move, Ev thrust his sword in Weylyn’s direction. It wasn’t a friendly blow. It wasn’t even a sparring blow. It was deadly, precise. He aimed straight for Weylyn’s chest and Bryson’s mouth dropped open, ready to cry out a warning.

But like lightning, Weylyn moved, twisting his body to the side and causing Ev to stumble forward. Ev growled, righted himself, and whirled on Weylyn once again. The Fae stood eerily still, even as Ev lifted the sword and swung.

Weylyn bent his body backwards, his braid flicking down his back, swinging low to the ground as he balanced himself. The sword swished near his face, missing by a few inches only.

Ev righted himself and Weylyn stood to his full height. Bryson could almost feel the smile dominating the Fae’s mouth. It felt like nobody in the camp was breathing, witnessing this display. Weylyn didn’t attack at all. He merely dodged. Every missed blow had Ev’s anger mounting. He didn’t become sloppy, though he did tire quicker. Every time it seemed he found an opening Weylyn would suddenly move. One moment he’d be there and within the next blink, gone.

It was like watching a predator play with its prey.

It was then that Bryson remembered.

Weylyn had some kind of mind game magic. He’d easily slipped into her brain, pushing images and words. She wondered if he was doing the same thing to Ev. There was no way they were evenly matched. There was no possible way Ev could beat him.

Bryson gritted her teeth the longer she watched. It was cruel watching Weylyn torment him. He let him believe he could get a blow in only to dodge at the last second, right before the sword swung his way.

Suddenly, a flash through Bryson’s mind had her reeling back. She gasped as thoughts that weren’t her own invaded. She felt her eyes flick to the back of her head, like she was watching within her own brain something that wasn’t there.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

A voice whispered, urged. And in her mind, she saw Weylyn’s hand shoot out and rip straight through Ev’s chest.

It felt too detailed to be a stray thought and she gasped, forcing it out of her own mind.

As quickly as it had invaded, it left.

Bryson’s feet moved by their own volition, stomping across the space just as Ev jerked backwards. Weylyn took a step, lifted his arm, and she knew, somehow she knew that he was trying to make those thoughts he projected into her mind come true.

But Bryson wouldn’t let them.

Wind propelled her forward faster as she put herself in between them. Her chest heaved with a fearful breath. The closer Weylyn got to her, the clearer his feral gaze became. He was inches away from the killing blow, and she saw him reel back at the sight of her in front him. Even so, her magic lashed out, her instincts screaming at her to protect Everette with all that she had.

The wind pushed Weylyn backwards, just as his hand closed around the front of her shirt and tightened. Her eyes widened as the force of the wind combined with his hold on her, sent them both flying backwards.

They fell to the ground, Bryson sprawled across his chest. Almost immediately, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, even as their chests pressed together with every breathless heave.

Up close, his details imprinted into her soul. His every pane, the slight curve on the ridge of his nose, the well-groomed way he kept his mustache and beard. That vicious smile. The curve of every lash. The golden eyes that suddenly flicked white...

The impact of another vision slammed into her. It consumed her down to every single particle. It reeled her in, drowning her within her own mind. So vivid, so real. It felt like she could almost touch it. Touch him. In the vision, they were in the same position they were now, with far less clothing.

His hands gripped her naked hips, digging his nails deep until it caused grooves in her skin. He pulled her down onto him, spearing her, splitting her with his cock. It felt so real. Too real, she could almost taste the desire on his body. She could almost feel his hard cock sliding inside her as if it were truly happening. She could almost feel his lips reach up to take her mouth in a searing kiss—

And she could almost swear the desire pulsing between her legs was actually happening.

Bryson tore herself out of the vision at the same time she pushed herself up and away from him with her palms. She leaned back, staring down at the smirking Fae, her every breath pulling out of her like a ragged thing. She was straddling his legs, trying very hard to ignore the hard press of his rising cock at her center.

“Stop it,” she said through gritted teeth. “Stop putting visions into my head.”

He puffed out a breath, his hands sliding up the tops of her thighs. She swatted them away and he pressed them against his chest. “Is that really what you want?” he taunted in a voice smooth and deep.

“Yes. It is.”

“Hmm.” His golden eyes flicked to where their lower halves pressed intimately together. “From the smell of your arousal, and the fact you’re still on top of me, I’d say you’re lying, little mate.”

“Well, I’m not.”

And yet her body remained immobile for a few moments more. Her face heated. With shame or desire, she couldn’t be sure. It was then that she became increasingly aware of their position, of the wetness that had suddenly pooled from between her thighs.

No, she thought, this isn’t supposed to happen. With a growl, she shoved from his body, pushing herself to a stand. As she stepped back, her thighs shifted together, coating her skin with arousal that made her body flush just a few shades hotter. She prayed the others couldn’t scent the evidence of what he’d done to her.

He’d placed that vision in her head on purpose. To provoke her. To provoke Ev. And that vision had felt like she was living it, colliding with her reality, causing her insides to pulse with a desperation she never knew was possible. His scent only grew stronger, permeating through her very being. Something electrified between them, demanding she pull closer.

Was this the magic of the bond?

She couldn’t help her body’s reaction to him, no matter how unwanted the advance was. She supposed she could forgive him if he was acting this way. Bonds of Mana made Fae do wild things. But she wouldn’t forgive how purposeful he was in trying to kill Ev.

Ev.

She gave Weylyn’s form on the ground one last, lingering look before she whirled to face her boyfriend.

The shame came in a blast as she witnessed his anger. Even from a distance, even with a blurry form, she knew. And beside him stood Arlo, his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

Arlo inhaled loudly, and she wished she could slink away and hide her own scent. Everyone knew what he did to her, and it was humiliating. “If the two of you are quite finished with... whatever that was, we have a job to do, Bryson.”

Bryson straightened, mustering whatever dignity she still had left. “What job?”

“A wagon is set to approach soon. It contains Fae escorted by soldiers.”

Bryson let out a breath, and with it, a sliver of her magic. It grounded her, eased her nerves, even as it drifted Weylyn’s scent straight in her direction. She ignored that part and opened her eyes again. Not only was Arlo giving her purpose, he was also pulling her back to his side, reminding her that she had a loyalty, and more importantly, to whom it was owed.

She stepped forward, walking back over to Ev’s side, though he pointedly ignored her. It stung, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised after what Weylyn had done. Still, her chest ached with the sting of his rejection.

“Everyone knows what to do,” Arlo announced, his gaze flicking towards the others. “And as for the Resistance? Well, I guess now is the time to prove just how good you really are.”