Page 30 of Bitten & Burned

Twelve

A WILLING SUPPLICANT

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

QUIL

I sat on the floor in Dmitri’s room. I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up here.

I’d walked. But not well. Not by myself.

Now I was here.

On the floor.

Because I wasn’t standing so well either. The bond wouldn’t shut up—restless and frayed, it tugged at me like it knew she was awake.

Leaning against Dmitri’s bed, I must have wiped my nose on his comforter a dozen times.

Fuck. I’m disgusting.

I sniffed again.

The door opened, and heavy footsteps. Heavy presence. Dmitri.

He sat down beside me. Not across from, beside.

“You’ve been in here a while.”

I nodded grimly.

“Want water?”

“No.”

“Pain killers?”

“No.”

“Something blunt, to hit me in the head?”

I snorted. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Dmitri scoffed. “You’d miss. You always miss.”

“Yeah. Well. I deserve to.”

“Don’t do that.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? That’s what Vael thinks. Maybe he’s the only one of you thinking straight.”

“Vael is an angry, pent-up, sad person. He’s not thinking. That’s his problem. Besides… It’s you she’s asking for.”

That hurt.

“Don’t tell me that…” I mumbled, groaning.

I picked at a scab on my hand. Blood welled up again. The bond throbbed faintly with it, like it wanted to drag me back to her, whether I was ready or not.

Dmitri didn’t push. Just sat there with me in the quiet for a beat. Then, “Vael isn’t wrong that it was dangerous,” he said. “But he’s wrong to act like you’re the only one who could’ve made that mistake. We all could’ve. Given the bond—given her.”

My voice came out hoarse. “But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t him. It was me.”

“You think I’m glad it was you?” Dmitri’s voice sharpened. “You think Anton’s glad? You think any of us are? That we’re sitting around congratulating ourselves because it wasn’t us who almost drained her dry?”

That hit.

He rubbed his jaw, his tone softening again. “I’m furious. But not at you. Not even at Vael, though he’s next on the list.”

“Then who?”

He turned his head slightly. Met my eyes. “All of us. At the way we’ve been treating the bond… her… like something to hold at arm’s length.”

“I lost control.”

“You lost yourself. That’s not the same.”

Silence.

“I should’ve stopped.”

“She asked you to bite. You’re bonded. You felt her want it. And you didn’t want to hurt her—don’t pretend you did when you’re sitting here falling apart over it.”

I swallowed hard. Tried to speak. Failed. Tried again.

“She wants to see me?”

“She does.”

“I can’t,” I said again, barely audible.

“You can. You’re just scared.”

“…Yeah.”

“She’s scared too,” Dmitri said, pushing to his feet. “But she still asked for you.”

He paused at the door.

“When you’re ready, Quil… don’t make her ask twice.”

I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he held out his hand.

I nodded again. I rose to my feet without Dmitri’s proffered hand.

He walked with me down to the east wing, where her rooms were. I’d never been in her actual rooms since she’d moved into them. I’d expected there to be something of hers here, but there wasn’t.

Still, the bedding Anton had picked back when this was just an empty suite. Still, the same two rose paintings centered over her bed. Nothing of hers was here.

Fig meowed and stood, stretching before trotting down to the bottom of the bed.

Well, nothing except for Fig.

The smell was back. Muted now. But still there.

I stepped into the room. She was asleep. Hair fanned out and eyes closed, hand up on her pillow, the other draped across her middle.

She rolled over and reached for something. When I saw it, my heart skipped.

Pip.

Clutched in her hand. Feelings began to rush over me. Warm feelings. Cozy feelings. I-wanted-to-get-in-bed-and-snuggle-her-feelings.

Feelings I didn’t have.

Not until her.

I just stood there, unsure of how to proceed.

She made up my mind for me when her eyes fluttered open and she looked right at me. Green eyes searching mine. They were stark against her pale skin and dark hair.

The bond surged, sharp and aching, like it knew she was awake before I did.

“Are you coming in?” She asked, her voice low.

I didn’t know what else to do. My body moved independently, like I was controlled by her whims alone.

If that had been true, we wouldn’t be here right now.

“I don’t know if I should be here.”

“I want you here.”

“Yeah, but…”

Her face softened, and she held out her hand to me. I forced it, but I stayed put. Didn’t go running to her like the frightened little animal I was. “Quil. I’m not mad at you. Not upset either.”

“No, you should be… You don’t have to forgive me… I wouldn’t.”

She sighed. “Oh, fuck off.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Fuck off with that martyr-oh-woe-is-me-I-hurt-everything-I-touch-garbage.”

Speechless, I just stared at her.

“You don’t get to show up here looking like a slapped ass and tell me how I should feel. You’re powerful—but not that powerful.”

“A slapped ass?” I repeated, “I don’t look like a slapped ass, I look like a fucking monster because I almost killed you.”

“And I asked you to bite me. Remember that? Or do you only remember the things that make you feel bad?”

Again, I was speechless. No one had ever spoken to me that way before. Maybe they should have.

“You’re mad. About this?”

“Damn right I’m mad! But not for the reasons you think. It’s because you can’t look at me unless you’re crying or apologizing. I’m angry because I’m still here, and you’re acting like you killed me. Not almost. Did.”

I opened my mouth several times, but couldn’t go further than that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say something that isn’t just self-pity with extra steps. I want you to say something real. Not that I doubt that you’re sorry, but I’m sick of hearing it. Tell me something else.”

“Fine,” I said. Clipped. “Fine, I was scared. Was that what you wanted? For me to be scared?”

Her eyes didn’t leave mine.

“I was scared because I was watching the first person in decades who understood me—who looked at me like I was more than my impulses, the first person to really see me—bleeding out on the floor, from injuries I caused. That’s why I was scared. I was fucking terrified.”

She extended her hand again. “Come here.”

I hesitated.

“Get into bed with me?” she asked, pulling back the sheets.

I swallowed. Stared. Flexed my hands. “I can’t. My shirt’s filthy.”

“So take it off,” she countered.

I blinked. “Rowena… I don’t think we should—”

“Gods, Quil. Do you really think that’s what I’m asking for? No, I need cuddles. Pronto. And yours are the best ones.”

“There’s no way you could know that,” I said dryly.

“Fine. Prove me wrong. Come in here and cuddle me, Ashborne.”

“I—” I stammered. She had me.

“I need… someone to be here. I don’t want to be alone. I know I have Fig, but… I just need… someone. And I need it to be you.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. What else could I do?

I removed my shirt and dropped it on the floor. Likewise with my boots and socks. I left my trousers on and climbed into the bed with her.

I slid in beside her. Careful not to jostle her. Like she was fragile.

But she wasn’t.

She curled into my chest the moment I was close enough. She sighed. Long and slow. Like she was sinking back into something perfect. Something comfortable. Something we’d never had and that I didn’t deserve. But I liked it anyway.

Besides, she deserved it.

And I wasn’t about to say “no” to anything she wanted at this point.

Her hand smoothed up over my chest. Over my heart. My heart that hadn’t beat properly in nearly thirty years.

Didn’t matter.

She was my heart now.