Page 36 of Flameborne: Fury (Emberquell Academy #2)

SOUNDTRACK: Iris by Chris Lanzon

~ DONAVYN ~

Something happened.

I didn’t know what. I only knew that as I accompanied the Queen back to the King, my mind was barely on my duties because I was washed in elation and pride and delight for my mate.

But some time later, when we had walked almost back at the castle, the warm rush pulsing in Bren turned cold and something jolted through her fiercely enough for it to stab my heart.

I stutter-stepped and almost tripped, instinctively gripping Diaan’s arm tighter to my side to help me balance.

She gave a small laugh and patted my forearm with her free hand. “Are you sure you’re well, Donavyn?” she asked good-naturedly as I straightened, my heart thudding hard against my ribs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose your feet—”

“I’m very sorry, Your Majesty. I’ve just remembered… a critical misstep. I have to go back. To warn the squads and… Please, forgive me.”

Diaan looked startled as I pulled away, her hand tightening on my arm, but I muttered another apology as I turned so she couldn’t see my eyes, barking for the guards that had accompanied us to close tight around the Queen.

She, of course, had no reason to remain specifically with me. Her guard would keep her safe for the walk back to the Palace. And their presence required her to maintain the cool facade she so carefully cultivated. But I saw the question in her eyes.

“I’ll return as quickly as I can—please assure the King that I’ll attend no later than the Council at midnight as he requested,” I said formally, walking backwards from the circle of guards now hovering over her.

“Of course,” she said graciously through her teeth. “But Donavyn, you’re pale. And you stumbled. Is there anything wrong?”

“No, Your Majesty. Just weariness and a forgotten duty that is… necessary, and timely. Thank you for your concern. I’ll see you shortly.”

I turned away and trotted off before she could insist that I explain, back to the Academy. Only to frown the moment I was out of sight around a building, because I could feel Bren. Feel her agitation and fear and protest? Yet, she was moving.

I stopped walking, to pause and concentrate. The bond was still new, still finding its place. I didn’t have the precise sense of her that I had of Kgosi. Her location was far more vague to me. Yet, when I closed my eyes and focused… There.

I opened my eyes to find myself facing a line that I knew would return me directly to the stables.

She was running home.

But that wasn’t her home anymore.

Was she running to pack? Or had something happened that made her frightened? And afraid of whom? Of us?

Gritting my teeth, I reached for Kgosi to see if Akhane knew anything, but he was too far away to reach with words.

I was torn for a moment—Bren and I couldn’t risk discovery. But my mate was hurting. Angry. Afraid. And I needed to know why.

Had one of those fuckers hurt her?

I found myself running before I’d given it another thought.

The sense of her grew clearer as I drew closer. She must have been running too, because I should have gained on her much faster. But I weaved between buildings, only certain she headed for the stables because there was precious little else in this direction.

By the time I entered the main aisle of the stables, my sense of her was clearer. She’d remained far ahead of me. She must have been running.

When I reached the stable, the dragons hadn’t yet returned, so I threw the main door closed—a sign to others not to enter—then sprinted across the stable and shoved open the door only to go still, panting, as Bren whirled to face me.

She must have felt me approach, because she didn’t question why I was there, or tell me why I wasn’t needed. Instead, she launched into a teary tirade.

“No matter what happens,” she whisper-screamed, her body shaking visibly. “No matter how good or wonderful it is, everything is ruined by this blind fucking panic,” she hissed, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It ruins everything, Donavyn!”

I started towards her. “What happened?” I demanded.

“Saul kissed me—or tried to—”

My head snapped back as a crackle of rage and vengeance jolted through me.

Bren’s eyes widened and she raised her hands, palms towards me.

“No, no. It wasn’t—he didn’t manage it. Not really.

He stopped the moment I pushed him away.

But our squads were both there, and my brothers rushed to my defense—which made his brothers step in to defend him and…

it’s a mess. A fucking mess. And all because I can’t bear a surprise. He didn’t try to hurt me, Donavyn—”

“He kissed you?” The words rippled up from my balls.

My hands were fists at my sides. I was suddenly glad Kgosi wasn’t close enough to communicate.

He would have torn down the stable walls on his way to bite the little fucker in half.

As it was, I had to fight the immediate, gut-deep urge for vengeance. For punishment.

But Bren rushed to me, gripping my jacket, her eyes wide and pleading, her voice too high and thin.

“No, no, Donavyn, don’t. Can’t you see? Saul is a good man.

He’s naive. He thought we could be something.

He stopped the moment I pushed him away.

But that’s why I’m upset! I could have just said no and he would have stopped.

It would have been awkward, but nothing else.

But I panicked. Our squads almost came to blows and—”

“I hope they ripped him a new asshole,” I growled.

“Please, Donavyn, don’t. That wasn’t what upset me!”

“Another man kissed you and you weren’t upset?” I snarled.

“Yes! But…” she clawed her hands into her hair, and I fought back the violence in me that yearned to be unleashed. Not at her, but at that little prick who—

“Donavyn, Saul isn’t the problem. I am. I know he’s good. I know that! I’m not scared of him. But when he touched me, it could have been anyone. My body—”

“He touched you?” I gripped her arms and pulled her to me, demanding, insistent. Bren dropped her face into her hands and sank into my chest.

“Please, Donavyn, listen. He didn’t hurt me.

I’m telling you, the problem is me,” she blurted into my chest. “I’m a grown woman.

A Furyknight. I should take a shock without turning into a puddle of…

of… fear!” She lifted her head and her eyes were red, wisps of her hair pulled free of her braid and fluttering around her face as she stared at me, pleading.

“What’s wrong with me?! Why does it always end like this? ”

I fought the beast within me. Wrestling, because she was soft and scared and in my arms. She needed me. And there was nothing I wanted more than to soothe her. But I also deeply wanted to leave her closed into this little room, away from everyone else, while I put violent hands on that little shit.

She trembled and I knew: I could help her, or beat him. I couldn’t do both. And she was more important.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I managed through my teeth, though my tone was more stern than reassuring.

“Yes, there is!” she insisted. “How the hell am I going on a mission with my squad or my Wing if I leap out of my skin the moment I get surrounded? They raised me to stealth, Donavyn! I have to be able to stand in the face of an unwanted advance—or even just a group of men standing too close without meaning anything—”

“No man should be touching you, especially if you’re on a mission—”

“That’s not what I meant!” she wailed, then dropped her chin, shaking her head, her finger curling into my jacket and gripping, still trembling.

I made myself focus on her. Made myself put aside the rage and possessive fury that wanted to break that little fucker’s neck, and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly, remembering that we’d been about to talk about everything that had happened to her—the things that had wired her this way—when I found out about the camp she’d found.

I’d been distracted. But I wouldn’t be again.

She needed to talk.

“Breathe,” I whispered as gently as I could. “Breathe, and relax.”

“But—”

“No buts, Bren. You won’t get past this until you can think clearly, and you won’t think clearly until you’re not panicking anymore. I felt you. I’m here. I’m not leaving. I won’t touch him. Now, breathe.”

I slid fingers up the back of her neck and gripped her hair under her braid, trying to make my own breath ease because through the bond, my tension and anger were feeding her fear. Thank God I’d been bonded to Kgosi for so long and he’d taught me how that spiral worked.

Holding her tightly, I made myself center.

Breathe deeply and slowly. Slow my heart.

Release the anger and possessive jealousy.

Release the petty desire to wreak vengeance on a lad who had no clue what he’d done.

Release the frustration of knowing she harbored wounds she still hadn’t trusted me enough to reveal.

Time. All of this would take time. But it was the one resource we were terribly poor in.

“How did you get away from the Quee—”

I shushed her and stroked a hand down her spine, unwilling to admit that I struggled for control. The last thing I needed was a reminder of yet another obstacle to our peace.

“Just breathe,” I murmured. She sighed heavily, but her weight shifted and I felt the tension slowly leaching out of her. “That’s better,” I whispered, still stroking her back and wrestling with my own anger at all the obstacles we faced.

But the more I cleared my head, the more present the bond became, bringing with it that urgency for contact that we’d been fighting since the dragons united.

I’d been distracted by the Queen and the King, by the ceremony, by the duty of my job.

But now, with her warm body pressed to mine, the low heat that had simmered in the background came roaring to the front.

Though the voice in the back of my head still called for Saul’s blood, it was a gnat buzzing my ear against the rising tide of need building in my body.

I snarled at myself for discipline. She’d had a shock! She needed time to unwind and—

Bren took a deep breath, then released my jacket with one hand and lifted it, sliding up my chest to my shoulder, then the back of my neck, cupping her sweet, calloused fingers at the nape of my neck as she sighed again—this time with the weight of relief.

My body responded with a jolt of desire and ravenous hunger for her.

“Bren,” I started, my voice deep and ragged with both weariness and need. But she interrupted me.

“You make me feel safe. Donavyn. I never feel safe. But with you, I don’t panic.

Ever.” Then she lifted her head from my chest and looked up at me, her forehead furrowed.

She still had her hand on the back of my neck and her fingers curled to dig into my nape, sending tingles down my spine so that I swallowed. “How do you do that?”

I tried to smirk. Tried to pretend the words didn’t make my chest—and prick—swell with pride. Tried to swallow back the cocky joke that wanted to cross my lips, and instead reassure her.

“I told you, Bren. I love you. You’re mine. Meant for me. Made for me. You are safe with me. I swear it.”

She searched my gaze earnestly. I felt the bubbling rise in her through the bond, the way her body shivered to alert—not with fear as before, but with need.

I’d fallen into some kind of trance where the whole of my mind was centered on that bond, the cord between us, the pulse and glow of it, when she spoke and her words broke through.

“I want you, Donavyn,” she whispered. “Being close to you makes me feel better. It soothes my fear. The only thing that scares me is how much I need you.”

The earnestness in her. The sincerity. The words landed right at the center of my chest and threatened to strip my control.

As I reached up to comb back the tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid with my fingers, I searched for the words. The right words. The responsible ones.

You need to rest.

We both have jobs to do.

You’re safe here—and I’ll make sure you stay that way.

But my chest screamed want and passion much louder than my self-discipline cautioned the need for restraint.

I swallowed hard, arguing with myself about how irresponsible it would be to do the things that entered my head—pulling that jacket from her, hooking fingers in the top button of the shirt underneath and jerking them all down to tear it open over her beautiful breasts, taking that plump mouth with mine and sliding hands into her leathers, stripping her naked and plunging into her, because I already knew the heated, soft thrill of how she’d take me and—

Her breath caught and she pulled me down.

I resisted for a beat. But when our eyes locked and there was a flash of urgency in hers followed by a flare of self-doubt, I knew I couldn’t let her tell herself my resistance was lack of desire.

I cursed and descended on her, grabbing her up, filling my hands with her, clawing at her clothes, tasting her mouth and throwing caution to the wind, because she breathed my name with relief, pressed into my touch, and reached for my jacket, clawing at it as urgently as I’d wanted to strip her of hers.