Page 41

CHAPTER 41

AURIA

D espite the exhaustion, I’d barely slept last night due to my mind spinning, repeating the conversation with Bowen over and over. I’d been so angry at myself for the attack, as if it was somehow my fault. Granted, my part in the poker game had presumably started all of this, successfully putting a target on my back, but I was tired of not living. Though the little bit I had gotten the chance to do ended up in bruises staining my neck, a broken rib or two, and a steamy shower with a man I couldn’t seem to stop arguing with. It was almost like a twisted version of foreplay, yet Bowen and I would never get past the bickering.

He’d said they didn’t need me. While it shouldn’t have been a shock, the statement had echoed through the dense forest of my mind until the early hours of the morning, every leaf dangling from unstable branches screaming his words at me.

Well, I didn’t need him .

After using the healing vial I’d found set beside the book to mend my ribs, I’d pulled on a long, deep blue dress with a revealing neckline that dipped into a low V between my breasts. The slit in the thigh went nearly to my hip bone, and with each step, it revealed more. The outfit showed far more skin than I’d ever felt comfortable with before, but with only days remaining until the bridge was crossable again, I wanted to do as much as I could, and that included wearing risqué dresses. Second on my agenda for the day was to act as if the attack hadn’t affected me at all. If anything was going to show them not to fuck with me, it’d be me exuding confidence out in the open, not hiding away, scared for my life.

I clasped the opal necklace around my neck, the pads of my fingers brushing over the tender bruises painting my skin. I’d only healed my ribs, keeping the bruises there to heal on their own. I wanted people to see what had happened, and that despite it all, I was still standing.

I’d been so close to death last night, and in that moment, when the air squeezed from my lungs and burned a hole in my soul, I’d found it truly wasn’t a fate I wanted to meet anytime soon.

I left my hair down, thrown over my shoulders to cascade down my back in silky waves. For once, the strands had obeyed, and they were less frizzy than ever.

A glance in the mirror sent satisfaction coursing through me at the intrepidness that seemed to radiate off of me by appearance alone. I headed for the door, but as soon as I opened it, I stopped short.

Bowen stood with his back against the post of my small porch, tossing a dagger up in the air, only to catch it by the handle. His heel was propped up against the wood, his stance casual but stiff, like at any moment, that blade might land true.

“Princess,” he greeted, not looking my way.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, closing the door behind me as I stepped into the midmorning sun. There was no breeze, yet the air held a chill, causing goosebumps to freckle my chest.

“Enjoying the lovely day,” he replied, now admiring the glint off the blade from the blinding rings in the sky.

I stepped past him, looking out at the street. “Well, I’m going out.”

The sound of dirt shuffling filled my ears as he presumably straightened behind me. “I’ll come with you.”

I turned my head to the side, my eyes cast on the ground. “I never said where I was going.”

“There’s nowhere in this town I haven’t been, a spot in this land I haven’t seen. Wherever it is, wherever you go, I will be there. And if you choose not to tell me, I will find you.”

I turned then, facing him, and as his devouring gaze took me in from head to toe, his hand froze on the hilt of his dagger. “I’m going to the saloon.”

He gave no indication that he had heard me, his eyes heating as they turned to twin flames, visually devouring the display set before him. The dress clung to every curve, accentuating my hips, waist, breasts. And every inch the fabric covered—and the spots it did not—he admired like a starved animal set in front of a feast after a long hibernation.

His eyes, so vibrant under the blue sky, met mine. The look alone made me want to torture him day in and day out, just to see that hunger—that need—blaze in his gaze. But not only him, it was me who was vexed by a life I’d never live with a man I could never have. Based on the tortured look on his face, I’d say he wanted me, too. He just didn’t want to admit it.

So I’d find a way to make him beg.

I faced the street again. “Coming?”

One glance back showed him snapping out of his all-consuming stupor, his throat working on a swallow as he sheathed the dagger in one fluid motion. My eyes followed the blade, the way his hand held the deadly weapon like a delicate wildflower. Would he one day handle me with such precise, lethal confidence?

He came to my side, and we walked alongside each other without another word, heading through the rows of houses until we entered the main street.

“Long night?” I asked to break the silence. Chatter filtered onto the road from the shops, people bustling about as they went about their business, but it wasn’t enough to break the pressing quiet that hung between me and Bowen like a bow on a string ready to snap.

“It was nothing special,” he answered. “And you?”

He didn’t ask if I was alright. He knew that I was, based on the thorough visual examination of my body he had done.

A woman didn’t dress in such a way the day after being attacked to simply cower like an injured animal.

“Good as a night could be, given how the day before went.” I wouldn’t lie. Despite the outfit, I was distraught over what had happened, but I had to keep my chin up, lest they get the upper hand and take advantage of a fragile state of mind.

He sent me a sympathetic glance, and I wanted to fall into it and wrap myself up in his care. Out of the entire evening, my mind kept wandering back to him in the shower. Standing in front of me with water dripping down his bare chest, the light dusting of hair across his skin dampened, his eyes that had taken me in with nothing but concern. He hadn’t hesitated to take care of me, to bring me upstairs and make sure I was okay. To wash the filth, grime, and shame from my skin. He’d just…done it. I had once thought he hated me, but then he had scooped me up, and I had never wanted to be put down again.

If that was hate, consider me loathed.

“You don’t need to worry.” Something in him had changed last night. I could feel it in the tone of his voice, in the way my skin hummed near his, our arms nearly brushing as we walked.

What a simple reassurance when my life could have been ripped from me in seconds.

“I’m not.” The words were light, a slight tremble to them, and he sensed I wasn’t speaking my mind. But rather than pointing it out, he let me believe my own words for the sake that maybe, if he didn’t refute them, I’d find them to be true.

We approached the saloon, and without hesitation, he held the door open for me, stepping aside to let me pass him. After yesterday, him being okay with my being here somewhat shocked me. But that’s what stood Bowen apart from the rest of the people in my life. He didn’t tell me where to go. Rather, he followed, giving me the freedom to make my own decisions.

Until he shoved me away.

A constant push and pull with him, leaving me seasick on stable ground.

With that thought in mind, I didn’t bother thanking him as I stepped over the threshold. I was still mad at him for saying he didn’t need my help, and I wanted him to know that.

The musty air immediately stung my nose as cigar smoke whirled in the rays of the sun streaming in from the dirt-caked windows. Dust mixed with the clusters, creating a cacophony of fluttering debris. Stronger than before, the smell of that putrid ale combined with the pungent scent of whisky hit me as Bowen let the door fall shut. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped walking, my mind racing with the thought that Nemin and Crass could be in here, that I’d have to look them in the face after what they’d done to me.

A gentle hand rested in the dip of my waist, giving a light squeeze as a thumb brushed over the fabric of my dress. “You’re safe,” Bowen murmured, his chest brushing my back.

But it wasn’t his words or the knowledge that no one would touch me with his presence that soothed my speeding heart—it was him. His body near mine, his breath on my skin, his eyes only on me. I never wanted him to remove his hand from that spot. I wanted him to touch me like he had in the shower, with such careful precision, like he could play me as a musician might pluck the strings of a harp. Delicate and with meaning, only to elicit the most beautiful harmony. His caress made my skin sing, my senses tingle, and I wanted to feel it for the rest of my days. To hear the tune we silently sang in the presence of each other.

But all too soon, his hand was gone, leaving a cold breeze in its place.

I pasted on a smile. “I think I want to play a game.” I went to step forward in the direction of the pool tables, but his grasp was back, holding me in place.

Perfect .

He moved around me, his face now directly in front of mine. “You have to bet magic, and you have none to offer.”

With the tilt of my neck, my eyes locked on his. “I’ll just play with yours.”

A challenge, and I wanted him to bite.

A look of amusement lit his face, the slight arch of a brow, a small curve of his mouth. “Is that so?”

I moved closer. His breath skated down my cleavage with the dip of his chin. “Yes.”

“You don’t barter with magic that isn’t yours, Princess.”

My eyes fell to his neck, skirting down the peeking tips of his tattoo to the black shirt that stretched across his chest. If I reached out, I’d feel his heart. Was it beating as erratically as mine—wanting more as badly as I did?

“Consider it borrowing, then,” I replied, meeting his gaze again.

He released my waist once more, and I hated how badly I wanted it back again. Was he a drug, and I was addicted? “I don’t let just anyone borrow my magic.”

My finger moved on its own accord, connecting with his hard chest, trailing up, up… “It’s a good thing I’m not just anyone, then, isn’t it?”

His chin dipped further, and I knew people were watching, but fuck , I didn’t care. His tongue swept out to wet his lips, and the act alone nearly sent me to my knees. But before I could get further caught up in the mysteries of his mouth, his hand grabbed mine, flipping it palm up. His other arm moved, and then something cool landed in my grasp, glass clinking together. “Two vials. One game. No more.”

My fingers wrapped around the vials. “Bossy today, are we?”

His voice lowered, and I wanted to bottle the words that came with it. “You don’t know what bossy looks like, Auria, but I’d be happy to show you.”

I almost considered taking him up on his offer. Almost . But instead, I stepped back, satisfied enough with the vials in my hand and the knowledge that I’d gotten under his skin. “I’ll pass.”

Walking around him and the knowing smirk on his lips, I found an empty pool table with a muscled man leaning against it, massive arms crossed. It was a shock his skin didn’t burst from the size of the muscles themselves.

Setting the two vials on the table, I gave the man a saccharine grin. “Care to play?”

Unfolding the boulders disguised as arms, he grabbed his cue where it was leaned up against the table and took one giant step toward me. For a moment, I thought he might crush me where I stood, but instead of pulverizing me, his hand shot out to the right and he dropped two vials next to my own. I took that as his silent agreement that he was in.

To my surprise, Bowen didn’t try to step in. Rather, he leaned back against the nearest wall, cast in shadow as he faced the pool table. His feet were shoulder-width apart, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t move once as he watched my every shot while I played against the quiet giant of a man.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I wasn’t surprised I was losing. Truly, I’d only wanted to have fun. Well, that, and to have Bowen’s eyes on me the whole time. He thought he didn’t need me? I’d make him crave me instead.

A few people had stopped by to strike up a conversation with Bowen, but all the while they spoke, his simmering eyes never left mine. If I had to be honest, a big reason I was losing as badly as I was was due to my focus barely being on the game in the first place. My entire body was lit like a match under his ravenous stare. Bowen was dangerously distracting, and I feared my tactic to rile him up was having the opposite effect I’d wanted it to.

My opponent, who I’d learned went by the name Brick—it fit, really—had played a fair game, and I was a bit deflated our round was almost over. I wouldn’t ask Bowen for more magic, though. Not that I felt bad taking any, but because I didn’t trust myself to get that close to him right now. Our bodies, warm and soaking, in that shower, had awoken something in me. We’d both been laid bare, emotionally and physically, and I’d seen a part of him I wondered if anyone else ever had. My entire being was hyper focused on that version of him, but I had to remind myself that the Bowen I had seen last night wasn’t who he truly was. Not all the time, at least.

“Busy night last night, I hear,” a man said, offering Bowen a drink. The last conversation had been mumbled words, but this one I heard loud and clear from where I stood pondering over the game.

He shook his head at the mug of ale, declining it. “Just another day,” Bowen replied, and a glance his way found his eyes still glued to my every move.

With it being my turn, I surveyed the table, finding the best shot on the far end. Perching up on the tips of my toes, I knew Bowen could see down the front of my dress as I bent at the waist, and yet, I didn’t move to take my shot. I studied the angle of the ball to the hole like it was the most important decision of my life.

“Nemin went to the infirmary frantic as hell. Couldn’t tell if the guy had more tears or piss drenching him,” the man said before taking a long swig of ale.

I took the shot, the crack of the balls filling the saloon, but it missed the hole. I didn’t give a shit, though. Not after what that man had just said to Bowen.

I straightened, slapping the cue on the table. Bowen’s jaw ground together as he waited for my next move.

Whatever Nemin was doing at the infirmary, it wasn’t because of my attempts to fight him off.

“Keep the vials, Brick,” I muttered, abandoning the table and beelining for the door.

I made it outside right as Bowen’s hand wrapped around my wrist. “Auria.”

I spun, shaking him off me. “Why was he in the infirmary, Bowen?”

His eyes flashed, something lethal passing through them, but not toward me. “Why do you think?”

“What did you do?” But rather than irate or full of rage, my voice was soft, just above a whisper. He hadn’t just helped clean my muddied skin, made sure I wasn’t majorly injured, he’d…

“I cut his hand off and suffocated Crass. He’s dead. Nemin got lucky.”

Nausea rolled through me, but I held it back with a hand to my stomach. “Why?”

His forehead knotted. “Why did I make them pay for what they did to you?”

Dropping my hand to my side, I shook my head. “You said you didn’t need me, so why protect me? Why not let them try to kill me again? It’d only take the problem off your hands.”

He wrapped a callused hand around my wrist, his grip firm but feather soft all at the same time, and pulled me around the side of the building. He didn’t let go of me as he spun around, or when he pressed my back against the wood siding, or as he pressed the bulge in his pants to my lower stomach, leaning into me. “Feel that, Auria?”

I refused to respond. The pressure alone sent sparks careening through me.

“Tell me that feels like you’re a problem to me. That I don’t need you. That I don’t crave you every moment since the day I met you. Every night since you arrived in Deadwood, I’ve laid in bed, thinking of you, imagining ways I could make you stay for my own selfish reasons.” He heaved a breath, and I forced myself to do the same. His words made me dizzy in the best way possible, an even sweeter buzz than alcohol could even dream of eliciting swirling through my mind. “Is that what you want me to tell you to make you believe you are needed?”

I could only blink at him, words lost from my tongue as all it wanted to do was taste his, to know what it felt like to part those lips and lose myself in the current of him.

Finally, I managed a nod.

“Then I’ll say it every day you remain in Deadwood, if that’s what you desire. All you have to do is say the words, and I’ll remind you every damn day how needed you are on this planet.” He braced his hands on the wall, caging me in with tattooed arms as he lowered his head. “You are needed.”

I was quickly coming to realize that Bowen had enveloped every thought in my mind in just a matter of days.

But it wasn’t days. No, it’d been over a month now since the night of the ball. While he’d royally pissed me off the night my father had announced my engagement, his irritable comments had stuck like honey, his voice replaying in my head. And then he’d shown up the night of Exitium Lunae and killed three men without even blinking. He’d done that for me, and yet, I’d questioned him. Wondered if he wished the worst for me.

And in this moment, those thoughts were only damning me. With my eyes on his lips, and his on mine, there was only one thing that mattered in this alley. If I leaned a few inches forward, angled my head a bit to the right…

But Bowen was a criminal. Someone my father hated. He was a leader, but not a king, and worst of all, I barely knew anything about the world.

But I knew more about him than anyone else. Didn’t that count for something?

No . I was being a fool.

I pulled back, my head nearly hitting the wall. “I’d like to go home.”

He blinked, likely studying the way the words had spilled from my mouth, how they were rushed, unsure, and clearly a lie. What I really wanted to say was, Kiss me and make me forget this is temporary , but instead, I was a coward too afraid to take that leap.

His throat bobbed with a swallow, and he stepped back, dropping his hands from the wall. Instantly, my body mourned. The place he’d pressed his cock to my body, only thin fabric separating us, went cold. I should take back what I said, tell him how I truly felt?—

“I’ll walk you home,” he said, his deflation clear.

And it was set in stone.

Maybe this was best. I’d be leaving soon anyway.

His hands flexed before I shoved off the wall. He didn’t want to have restraint when it came to me, and I was right there with him. I wanted to live in a world where I could ravage any man I wanted, to be free to kiss whoever I thought fit just because I could.

But instead, I lived where not only a castle was my prison, but my mind as well.

Walls didn’t just hold me back from my desires. It was the thoughts—the consequences—that would surely follow.

We walked back to the house in silence so thick, I thought I might get lost in the fog. And when he left me at the door without a word, I wished my mouth had never opened, and my lies had never been spoken.