Page 23 of Mountains of Mist and Magic (A World of Sun and Shadow #4)

“I can’t ask for another room, Julietta. I’m sorry. I—I told them you were my wife. I was afraid that traveling alone with you, and then staying at a public inn would compromise your virtue. The healer said that you needed constant observation, so…I panicked and told them we were married.”

“It’s okay. It’s just for one more night. I’ll sleep on the chair this time.” Julietta grabbed one of the fluffy feather pillows off of the bed and moved towards the chair. Triston cut her off, blocking her path.

“Absolutely not,” he said, assertiveness strong in his tone. “You’ve suffered a head trauma, and besides, you're a maiden. You’ll sleep on the bed. I’ll take the chair, or even sleep in the bathtub.”

Triston walked towards the middle of the room, trying to hide the pain in his back, attempting to conceal the way his muscles ached from carrying her on his horse all the way to the inn. That entire ride he cradled her close until the healer had taken her from his arms. But even as he tried to move naturally, he knew his movements were stiff.

“Triston, you can hardly walk! You won’t be fit to ride tomorrow if you don’t sleep properly.”

He looked at the soft bed, warm and inviting. But then he turned to face her, and he knew he couldn’t let her sleep anywhere but in the bed. He might be a king, but she was a princess.

“I won’t sleep in a soft bed while you’re in a hard chair.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “I refuse the bed.”

Triston was exasperated. He was tired, in pain, and every single second he was near her was draining him completely. He had to repress the multitude of feelings he had towards her, and it was taking a toll on him. “Julietta, just take it and go to sleep.” His tone was gruffer than he meant it, and he didn’t recognize his own stern voice.

Out of nowhere, her palm came up and smacked him alongside the cheek. “Stop telling me what to do!”

His head jerked with the hit. It hadn’t hurt, but he wasn’t expecting it.

As if in slow motion, Julietta looked at him, and then her opened palm.

“Oh my Gods! Triston! I’m so sorry!” Horror crossed her face, and she instantly pressed her hand to his cheek, softly caressing the spot where she had struck him. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Her palm stilled against his cheek, and he brought his hand up to hers. He knew he should pull away, but instead he leaned into her touch, sighing loudly. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just tired and…this bond is getting harder and harder to deal with.”

She nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Triston realized he loved how she was all fire on the inside, but also caring. He wiped the tear away. “Don’t fuss, sweetheart. It didn’t hurt. There’s no harm done.” He pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. Julietta’s breathing increased, and he could hear her rapid intake of air.

He momentarily couldn’t remember why he was fighting this. Why was he denying them both what they needed? Withholding what their bodies and souls were begging them to take? She wanted him, and he wanted her. What was so wrong with that?

Internally, he begged her to move. With his mind, he tried to urge her to back away. But instead of voicing his thoughts, he continued to breathe with her, their heartbeats now synchronized.

Finally, a raspy command left his throat. “Julietta, if you don’t want me to kiss you, you need to move backwards.” He bit his lip, silently pleading with her to move, but also wishing with every fiber of his being that she’d stay put. A few more seconds ticked by, but she didn’t flinch.

“Julietta,” he growled. “You need to move before I do something I regret.”

Instead of retreating, he felt her lips, soft and warm, brush against his. A spark of hope and a shimmer of desire coursed throughout his entire body, and his hands moved as if they were independent of him, coaxing her closer to his chest. He deepened their kiss, parting her lips with his as he moaned her name.

A knock on the door broke them apart, and they practically recoiled into the farthest corners of the room, away from each other. Triston moved his hand through his hair, trying to calm his erratic breathing enough to answer the door. He adjusted himself, slightly embarrassed that all it took was a couple of kisses to excite him this much. It wasn’t normal for him in the slightest.

His eyes quickly sought Julietta, but she looked innocent, except for the pink in her cheeks.

Triston opened the door.

The healer stood there, his bag in his hand. “I’ve just come to check on your wife,” he said pleasantly, entering the room. He motioned to Julietta, who obediently sat on the bed.

“Any fever? Confusion? Odd patterns of speech?” He looked at Julietta and then at Triston.

“No,” they both said, and the healer nodded. “Good. I’ll just check her eyes and then be on my way.” The healer brought out a small lantern and shined it in both of her eyes, watching them react. It made no sense to Triston, but he kept his mouth closed. He had never had an interest in the healing arts.

“She looks good as new,” the healer said, gathering up his bag. Triston walked with him to the door, and then pulled a few gold coins out of his pocket, pressing them into the healer’s hand. “Thank you very much.”

The healer left, and Triston closed the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply.

“I’ll pay you back. For the healer, I mean.”

He gave her a stern look. For once, she didn’t argue with him.

“Fine. But will you at least share the bed with me? I mean—just to sleep,” she added, looking down quickly. He hesitated, worried that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself once they were in the same bed.

“Please, Triston. I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re uncomfortable or in pain.”

He knew he’d be uncomfortable no matter what he chose. He’d be miserable in the bed, trying desperately hard not to touch her, either on purpose or accidentally throughout the night. Or he could torture his body again by sleeping in the chair. But the look on her face, innocent and pleading, won out.

He nodded, his jaw tightening out of quiet anticipation.

Julietta smiled, obviously delighted to have won this argument, and he couldn’t help but continue to soften towards her. She went to her trunk and pulled out her nightgown and then strolled into the bathroom to change. Triston could hear the water running in the sink and hear her hum cheerfully. He tried to make out the tune, but he couldn’t place it. However, it reminded him of something he must have heard during his childhood.

While she was preparing for bed, he quickly stripped off his boots and shirt, leaving his pants on. He knew he’d have trouble sleeping in them, but there was absolutely no way he could sleep bare next to Julietta.

He climbed into the bed, moving to the very edge of the side closest to the wall, allowing her plenty of room and the spot nearest the fire. He pulled the covers up to his upper chest, feeling stupidly awkward, but also trying not to do anything remotely suggestive.

Julietta came out of the bathroom, wearing her thin nightgown. His eyes darted to her bare feet, and then back up to her neckline. Her nightgown was low, and he could just make out the gentle slope of her cleavage before he averted his eyes.

She tiptoed to the corner of the room, blowing out the candles. The room was full of fluttering shadows from the glowing light of the fire, slightly illuminating the room, but Triston didn’t care about the lack of darkness. He knew he would have a hard time sleeping anyways, as he watched Julietta pull back the sheets and slip underneath them.

With her back turned away from him, all he could see was her slender neck and her gorgeous hair, which she’d fastened into two braids down her back. He stared at her for a few minutes, silently willing her to sleep so that he could rest as well.

“Triston?” Her voice was small and timid.

“Yes?”

“Is it…me? Is that why you want to break the bond?”

Triston could sense her wounded pride, nearly feeling the rejection she felt. Hearing her lack of confidence, the way she doubted herself, made him feel…he wasn’t sure what. But it wasn’t a feeling he liked.

He reached out and gently touched her shoulder, and she turned towards him, her eyes intense.

“Absolutely not. I just—I can’t have a wife.” The more often he repeated it, the more he hoped he would remember it.

She blinked rapidly and he tensed, trying not to react to her nearness. “Is it because—of your parents?”

He didn’t know how much she knew, but it appeared as if someone had shared some amount of knowledge with her. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but he felt that he owed her the explanation.

“Yes. It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart.” He didn’t know why the endearment kept slipping out of his mouth, other than it was a term his mother had used before her death.

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me anything…I just…wanted to be sure.”

Her vulnerability once again cut him to the core. Triston sighed deeply, trying not to look at her.

“I was only eight years old when they died. My magic—was—lacking, and my father had found some ancient soothsayer who told him to head to the forbidden mountains, far into the Siren’s Sea. My mother was nervous to go, but my father…he thought it necessary.”

Julietta reached out and stroked his cheek, and he let his eyes close. He was getting used to her comforting gestures, and he liked them more than he cared to admit. It seemed to give him the strength to continue with his tale.

“We finally reached the edges of the sea, when suddenly, a great mist descended on us. All of the nautical instruments on the ship stopped working, and we were soon lost in the fog. We floated along for days, not knowing where we were. My parents…who always got along somewhat well…argued horribly. My mother blamed my father for his need to have a magical son to rival the other kingdoms, and I…I blamed myself for being born and left…powerless.”

At this revelation, Julietta moved closer to him. Triston knew he should push her away, but instead he allowed her to cradle his head as she pressed it against her chest, almost as if he was a small kitten in need of warmth and comfort.

“I understand better than anyone might,” she cooed, smoothing his hair. “My mother was often—disappointed—with my lack of power.”

“I haven’t said anything—but—I’ve regained a tiny bit of magic,” he admitted. “But I was afraid I was imagining it.”

“I thought I was imagining mine too, at first. Do you think Cressida took yours as well?”

“I don’t know. But when we felt the bond, I knew I hadn’t been imagining it. The only way we could have felt it was if I possessed enough of the magic.”

Triston felt her nod, her chin moving against his hair. “How did you manage to survive?”

He knew she was referring to the storm. “I’m not sure. The storm raged for at least three days. The last thing I remember was the ship running aground…or maybe into a huge rock? —and then I woke up on a strange island.”

“That must have been terrible.”

“I was alone for two weeks before I was found.”

“Oh, Triston.” He felt a tear drop down his cheek, and it took a second for him to realize it wasn’t his own. Julietta was crying for him. “What happened on the island?”

He tried to remember. So much of it he had buried deep down, locked tightly in the recesses of his mind. “I was lucky that it was a tropical island. There was plenty of fruit to eat. But early on, I drank from a pond that wasn’t fresh. I should have known better, but at eight years old…I was hardly a trained soldier. Within a few days, I was utterly ill. If I hadn’t been found when I was….” he drifted off, knowing that he would have been dead if it hadn’t been for the search party from their kingdom that had located him.

More wetness against his cheek. Triston finally opened his eyes, moving out of her embrace. Her eyes were red and brimmed with moisture. He leaned in and kissed away the tears that had fallen down her cheek, and the salty taste instantly reminded him of home and the feel of the misty saltwater against his face.

Julietta moaned as Triston continued to kiss a trail down her neck, nipping the skin near her collarbone. What was he thinking? Did he honestly believe he could share a bed with his fated mate and not act on it? He could barely handle it when the healer had touched her. He didn’t want anyone else to ever touch her or even look at her again.

She was his.

His mouth met hers again, and they were lost in each other, touching, caressing, and kissing. He moved his hand between her legs, and she jolted upright, her forehead wrinkled with confusion.

“Have you ever been touched before?” he whispered, teasing a circle along her thighs.

“No…” she whimpered, squirming at his light touches. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath.

“I…I want to touch you. Is that okay?”

Julietta nodded wordlessly, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He slowly pushed her nightgown up her legs, his fingers dancing along her supple skin. She moaned, and the sound went straight to his groin. He had never been so hard before, never wanted a woman more.

He wanted to peel away her undergarments and sink his fingers inside of her, but some tiny part of his brain managed to resist. Instead, he rubbed her gently, feather light touches against her center that made her gasp.

“What…I don’t…”

“Shhhhhh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to give you some relief. It’ll make it more…bearable for you until we can break the bond. I’ll take care of you, Julietta.”

He would handle himself later in private, but he knew she was innocent enough that she would suffer until they could break the bond. Triston had been relieving himself a few times a day since their bond first became active, so he couldn’t imagine the sexual tension she must be feeling.

Triston slipped a finger inside her undergarment, and shuddered as soon as he felt her slickness. His poor, dear mate. She was suffering just as much as he was. Probably worse. He was angry at himself for not realizing the physical pain she must be in, along with the confusion she felt.

He vowed then to make it an amazing experience for her, to leave her completely and utterly satisfied. He tried to remember what women liked, but he realized he was so selfish in bed that his cheeks burned with shame. He wasn’t sure how to please her. He knew females like to be touched in a certain way…that there was a special spot that felt particularly amazing for them.

He slipped his finger deep inside her folds, feeling the moisture coating his fingers. He moved them upwards, spreading her slightly apart and exploring her folds. When he reached the top of her sex, she suddenly let out a loud, startled sound.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No….just…it…feels…feels so good.”

Ah, he had found that spot that was pleasurable for women. He concentrated on it again, and watched her reaction. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, she closed her eyes, and her hips lifted off the bed slightly.

This was the right way. He continued to touch and rub, watching carefully to figure out just what she liked. When he found a spot that made her legs shake, he kept going, harder and faster, whispering words of tenderness and praising her beauty.

“I…don’t…What’s happening—Triston!

She fell apart under his hands.

Then he embarrassingly came right behind her, unable to control himself.