Page 24

Bria

I t’s late, and I lie in bed waiting to be whisked away by exhaustion, but sleep is still far from my reaches—irritating me to no end. I’m debating whether I should go back downstairs and see if Ash is alright when a quiet knock fills the room, a soft echo that disrupts the lurking silence.

I sit up abruptly, curious as to who could be at the door, then look at the clock and note it’s past midnight, nearly one in the morning now.

Just as I was thinking of her, it might be Ash coming to check on me or even apologize for earlier.

Not that she needs to, but I saw the guilt in her eyes when she was unable to warn me that the men were with her this evening.

It wasn’t as if I couldn’t be around Ev. It was more that I shouldn’t be around him. That I don’t trust myself anymore to not act impulsively and give in to my desires. My looming fate is doing nothing to stifle that impulse control.

Thinking that’s probably who it is, I move toward the door and swing it open.

It’s not Ash that greets me, but Evander.

There he is, hands pressing hard against the sides of the doorframe.

His head hangs down as he gazes up at me through the whisps of warm brown hair falling in his eyes.

He’s lit by the soft glow of the sconce in the hallway, looking devastatingly handsome.

“May I come in?” he asks softly. That husky tone from earlier is still present. He’s tired, run down from days of fighting and training.

“Of course.” I step aside, allowing him entry to my room as I close the door behind him.

Evander strides in, his legs taking up so much more space in each step than mine, until he reaches the bed.

He sits on the edge, leaning slightly forward and rubbing his hands together briskly in thought.

Something is bothering him. I follow, positioning myself beside him and tucking my feet under, crossing my legs.

There are no seats in here, just my small bed, an end table, and the dresser that holds the few clothing items I own.

He turns to face me. The bit of a beard he’s sporting ages him but makes him look rugged and somehow even more attractive than usual. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest just from looking at him. Why is he here?

“I need to ask you about my arm,” he says, answering the thoughts swirling through my mind.

My brow furrows in confusion. His wound had been bad but not that bad. “Did it worsen? Do you need me to call a healer for you?”

Shit ! I don’t even know where we would get one, the furthest town is hours away.

Evander chuckles. “No, Bria. It’s quite the opposite.”

Rising from the bed, he tugs the tunic up over his head, the amulet thudding back down on his toned and tanned chest, his skin almost copper.

It’s like the kiss of the summer sun never fully leaves his skin, leaving it a deeper shade than mine.

His stomach is a road map of ridges, outlining the tight abdominal muscles that flex as he moves to place the tunic on the bed.

My eyes roam greedily over his body, eating up every inch while I can, a flush creeping up my neck and chest. He turns his body fully toward me, so his left arm is visible, but the wound is gone.

A long pink scar runs in a jagged line down the outside.

I gasp, pulling my legs from underneath me.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve crawled the short distance to him and stopped, kneeling before him.

Looking at the mark, my jaw falls open in awe.

The sword had carved a deep gash in his skin.

I saw it just days ago, felt it. Now it’s nothing more than a scar.

I raise my hand to his arm and run a single finger down the smooth pink skin, puckered in the center. Evander shudders and I look up at him. His eyes are smoldering with such severity I feel I may suddenly burst into flames from the heat of his gaze.

“Was it you?” he questions softly.

I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip, grasping for words. “No,” I murmur, moving my focus back to his arm, “At least, I don’t think so.”

My eyes shift from the scar back to the taught muscles of his stomach, the roundness of his pecs. I move my hands to his chest, pressing them against his hard body as I remain kneeling on the small bed in front of him. I muster the courage to glance at him, lifting my gaze to meet his.

Evander steps closer, his thighs now flush with the side of the bed.

I realize my hands are still on his chest but don’t move them.

I should move them , I think, but he doesn’t shake me off or step away.

The way he stares makes me wonder if he feels the same thick river of tension undulating between our bodies.

“I’ll-I’ll have to ask Cato about it. Tomorrow,” I stammer out. “I don’t think Lilith had healing powers. No. I know she didn’t, this can’t be from me.” I am puzzled by the scar and I’m rambling now, barely able to form words with him this close.

“There’s no one else here with magic, aside from Silas.

And he hasn’t touched me,” he states, and I nod.

Somehow, it had to be me who did this. “Tomorrow,” he agrees, his eyes wandering to my neck and collarbone, making me very aware of the old, thin shirt I had tossed on to sleep in.

Not to mention it only lands midway down my thighs and the neckline is stretched out, dipping low.

It isn’t exactly an outfit meant to be seen by anyone.

His arms hang loosely by his sides, but slowly, so slowly, he moves them to my bare legs, never breaking eye contact with me.

My breathing becomes heavy as his fingers trail along the edge of the shirt, sending a tingling sensation through me.

Evander slides under it and I gasp at the feel of his rough hands as they move up the sides of my thighs to rest on my waist. I press my thighs together, clamping them tight to stifle the pulsing starting in my core, the tension throbbing between my legs.

The anticipation building inside me pushes away any thoughts of the scar and anything but him.

Evander stills, leaving his fingers resting along the bare skin of my hips, waiting to see how I react.

It only takes a moment. A moment for the shock of finally feeling his touch to fade before I’m winding my arms around his neck and twisting my fingers into the silky chestnut strands of his hair again, still damp from bathing.

He tugs me closer, splaying his hands along the small of my back and leaving our bodies flush against one another.

I can feel the thudding of his heart in his chest, see the rise and fall as he breathes as heavily as I do.

I tilt my head to the side, taking in the lush curve of his lips and the short stubbly beard that makes him unbearably handsome. When he smiles at me, the dimple on his left cheek is still visible through that stubble and I bite down on my lip between my teeth. His smile is striking.

His eyes burn deeper, molten, and he leans in, the soft velvet of his mouth brushing against mine. Everything stops. Nothing matters now, in this moment, except for him. There are no more bones on my mind, no more wars to be waged. Just us. Just now.

I inhale the scent of lemongrass wafting from his body as his mouth presses into mine.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of my back as he holds me tighter.

I feel his tongue flick over my lips, and I part them in response, welcoming him, reveling in the sweet taste of his mouth.

Of his tongue. Deepening the kiss, I allow my body to melt into his, fisting his hair in my hands.

I wrap the smooth strands around my fingers and tug his head into me, craving more.

Feeling as though I could devour him, I pull the edge of his lower lip between my teeth.

Evander lets out a low noise, almost a growl in response, and I fight the urge to smile at getting that reaction out of him.

He grinds his body into me, releasing his grip on that hunger a bit more.

His kiss becomes fierce now, his tongue thrusting into me and tangling with my own.

I can feel the hardness of him pressed against me and it sends a fresh wave of arousal through me, drenching me with the thought that he wants this just as much as I do.

It's intoxicating. Finally kissing him and letting myself go like this.

His hands wander, caressing over my back and down to my ass as he continues to kiss me.

Slicking his mouth against mine and digging his fingers into me in the most delicious way.

I let my own hands wander in response, moving from his hair to his shoulders and chest, gliding over those hard ridges of muscle.

Unexpectedly, Nimai flashes into my mind.

The image is sharp and agonizing, sending a searing sensation through my skull.

I rip back from the kiss, grabbing my head between my palms and gasping, trying to catch my breath but feeling like I cannot get enough air into my lungs.

I fall forward onto my elbows, my knees pressing into the hard mattress as I try to gulp down air.

Nimai is screaming, her face contorted from some sort of torment. Pain rages through my body, surging through my veins, and touching every inch of my skin. I dig my fingers into my hair, grasping as if I could peel back the skin of my skull and release the feeling.

“Bria!” Evander cries out and lunges onto the bed beside me.

He grabs me around the waist, his grip strong as my body thrashes against the torture.

As he hauls me into his lap and wraps me in his arms, the image of Nimai flickers and lifts.

Gone as abruptly as it appeared. But the pain lingers, a whisper of what it was just seconds before.

My hands are still squeezing my temples, my eyes clamped shut.

Evander is holding me tightly, as if my whole body is going to break apart into pieces, shattering from the impact from the vision. “Bria,” he soothes, but I can hear the terror in his voice.

I press my face into his chest, the amulet he wears cool against my skin.

I can smell the herbal citrus of his skin, not the searing, burning smell that came with the vision.

I pull a deep breath into my lungs, filling them with the scent of him.

I let my hands drop from my face and wrap them around his neck, burrowing further into his body.

I let him stroke my hair in slow, sensuous movements, allowing my own body the time to relax.

I’m not sure how much time passes before the pain really fades. It happens slowly, as if it is receding from my fingernails and toes all the way up through my limbs, leaving a lingering burn along my back before it vanishes entirely.

“I saw her again,” I begin, my breathing starting to regulate and steady once more, my face still glued to his chest. “But it was different.”

Pulling back from his body, I gaze into his brown eyes, my own stinging with the fresh tears I try to hold back—tears from the terror I feel at seeing my sister’s face like that.

His brows pull together, concern blooming. “What do you mean, different?” he questions.

“I could feel...pain. Horrible pain. Hers, I think. I don’t know.” I shudder, recalling the debilitating sensation. The burning sensation.

Evander’s eyes soften, the brown and gold seeming to melt with the change of expression. “Are you still in pain?” he wonders, bringing a hand up to caress the side of my face as if he could see the source of it if he just looked hard enough.

My mouth tilts up in a smile at the gesture. “I have a killer headache now, but mostly I’m just tired.” I yawn as if in response to the words and my eyelids begin to sag. The fatigue of the day coupled with the vision is depleting.

Evander shifts, turning so he can lay my body back on the bed. Briefly, he is poised above me and despite the exhaustion, desire courses through me, my breath hitching as I take in his naked torso.

His lips tug up in a smirk, noticing my reaction to him, but he keeps moving, pulling back and swinging his legs to the edge of the bed.

His feet thud lightly as they hit the ground and he reaches for his tunic.

He’s leaving. But I want him to stay, need him to stay.

I’m always alone, have been for the last five years, and his closeness fills that emptiness in my chest.

Reaching out to touch him, I splay my fingers over his arm, grasping lightly. His eyes shift to my hand then slowly up to meet my face. I’m sure he can see the pleading in my wide eyes. I tug on his arm and the smile returns, his dimple reappearing as he raises a brow in question.

“Please,” I begin, barely able to project my voice above a breathy whisper. “Please...stay.”

Evander slides wordlessly into the bed beside me and grasps the edge of the down-filled blanket, covering our bodies.

I roll onto my side, facing away from him, and tuck my body back into his.

He’s warm and comforting as he curls himself around me, sliding an arm across my middle and gently pulling me closer.

His breath is soft on the back of my neck as he nuzzles his face into my hair.

My body relaxes even more into him, muscles unclenching, fear and concern melting away.

Evander’s touch is soothing, calming, and feels. ..right.

Finally, he speaks, his words floating across my neck in a light breeze.

“You need to tell Cato tomorrow.” Though his tone is kind, there is a firmness to his words.

He’s concerned and he wants me to listen to him.

“About all of it, Bria. The dreams, the visions of Nimai, whatever happened with you that healed my arm. He needs to know.”

The vision is bothering him. I sense it as he tightens his grip on my body.

And why wouldn’t it? It’s bothering me, it’s concerning me.

The closer my sister’s birthday gets, the more vivid the images of her become.

I feel more. Like there is some invisible thread tying me to her.

And if the prophecy is true, if we really are part of it, then maybe there is.

“Mhmmmm,” I murmur back, enjoying the feeling of his embrace. I let his touch and smell wash away the fear that is creeping into the back of my throat, making my eyes begin to water once again.

He kisses the back of my neck, lips skimming along my exposed shoulder where the old shirt has slipped.

I feel a shiver ghost over me and want the kisses to continue, to let him erase the fear that is eating away at me.

But sleep is pulling me down, begging me to succumb whether I want it to or not.

“Goodnight, Bria.” I barely hear the whisper brush across my ear before I allow myself to be dragged under.