Page 17 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

TOUCHING AND TERMS

“ I wouldn’t risk Daeja’s life,” I whisper, crossing my arms tight over my chest.

Cole’s voice dips even lower. “Even if you decided not to, the ring puts a massive target on your back. If any of the rebels recognize it, they could decide to kill you because it’ll kill their greatest adversary.”

“That’s…why you were standing guard outside? Not because of Darian, but because you think the rebels might kill me in the middle of the night?”

He nods.

I clear my throat and push off the wall. “I signed a blood pact—a binding contract with one of the terms being our safety. Do you really think they would go through the trouble of such a thing if they intended to kill me?”

“ Sethan signed the blood pact. It doesn’t mean everyone in this entire town will agree to it. And this is just one town—there’s the entire northern continent who might question Sethan’s decision and decide they don’t need to follow it.”

I swallow. He has a point, and it’s one I had already considered. But hearing it resurface from someone else only strengthens the fear. Now, not only does the King and all his subjects want me dead…but I’m in the Dragon Lands where I can be an easy victory for the rebels.

Fuck. I might be in more danger here than I was back in Arterias—not that my own safety concerns me as much as Daeja’s. I can’t risk her. The thought alone tears a rip in my heart.

“Don’t let that scare you. I’ll never let anything happen to you…” Cole trails off and mindlessly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. Instinctively, he twirls the piece of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

Because he loves me. Staring, I tilt my chin up toward him, my lips parting of their own accord, knowing what usually comes next.

It feels as natural as anything. Wanting to kiss him.

To touch him. Blushing at the overwhelming longing, I lick my lips and pull my head away before I give into temptation.

Getting lost in his eyes swept away all the memories of why we aren’t kissing.

Why I feel so distant from him. Why my heart screams inside of my chest like a caged animal, broken and bruised.

He can always say the right things. And yet… it doesn’t matter. Not right now.

“I’m not scared,” I murmur finally.

Hurt isn’t scared. And the only thing I can possibly think of right now is how hurt I am.

After all this time, he still cares. But it doesn’t change the fact he was engaged and refrained from telling me for several months.

It also doesn’t change the fact I slept with Darian—something he still isn’t aware of.

But as I look into his eyes, glassy with exhaustion, longing, and pain, I know I can’t tell him. Not right now, at least.

He drops his hand on the side of my face before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I…I shouldn’t have touched you. Habit, I suppose.”

I bite my lip and nod. “Listen, I want you to go back to your room, and get some sleep. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

When he hesitates, I sigh. “I’m serious. Trust that I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. I’ll barricade the door with a dresser if it’ll make you feel any better.”

He snorts a laugh and looks down at his boots. “Okay…” He drags his eyes back up to mine and whispers once more, “Okay.”

I escort him out and watch him disappear down the road and behind a line of buildings as sadness tugs at my heart.

In another reality, if he felt so worried about me, I would have invited him in and had him stay with me.

Months ago, it was all I would have ever dreamed of.

I still find myself fighting the knee-jerk reaction to be close to him.

A complex mix of emotions stirs in my heart, and before I linger too long on it, I slip back into my room.

Locking the door, I then eye Darian’s sleeping figure off against the wall.

After a few quiet moments, I stride over to the dresser and hook my fingers under its top lid.

Pulling a solid breath into my lungs, I shove it forward, the feet screeching against the tiled floor.

Darian’s head whips up, his chains rustling as he pulls himself up to sit and scan the room wildly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I push again, ignoring him, and the feet scrape against the ground.

Darian rubs a sleepy eye with the heel of his hand. “Are you seriously rearranging furniture in the middle of the night? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

My response comes out in huffs as I scoot the dresser closer to the door, “Just…go back…to…sleep.”

He snorts. “How am I supposed to sleep with all your panting?”

I ignore him, sliding the dresser only another inch closer to the door. What kind of wood is this shit made out of?

He snickers, “Looks like you need a big, strong man?—”

“I need no one,” I grit out, not bothering to look his way.

“I know just the guy—come over here, set me free, and I’ll help you.” His voice is edged with mischief.

“Unlikely,” I grunt.

“Wait…” He laughs, realizing my intention. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

I finally shove one last time, sliding the dresser right in front of the door. Wiping my sore hands against each other, I turn to face Darian. “No, I’m not.”

He snickers. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be sure to protect you from all the scaries out there.”

I slide back under my sheets, back to him and not bothering to look his way as I grumble, “Can’t imagine you’d be able to do much without your hands.”

“Oh, kitten. If you could only see the things I could do without my hands.”

I don’t respond. Shuffling deeper into my warm sheets, I close my eyes.

Thankfully, he has the decency to not carry our conversation further.

Silence settles around the room, and the more the seconds tick by, the more my fear of recurring nightmares creeps in.

Not to mention, the ridicule from Darian if I wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating.

But as I edge closer to sleep, nearly falling into the void, a noise rips me out of my doze.

Clink.

I grab the pillow’s edges and pull it over my ears to block out the sound before relaxing back into the mattress.

Clink.

My eyes flash open.

Clink, clink, clink.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, am I not going to get any sleep tonight? I turn over my shoulder and glare at Darian who is arching his back into the wall, shifting his hips uncomfortably and attempting to adjust his pants.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, a cold chill racing over my naked legs.

I must have kicked off all the blankets.

My gaze fixes on him as he rolls his body, and I follow the motion from his chest down toward his groin.

I stiffen—nearly as stiff as his cock bulging beneath his pants.

Unable to tear my eyes off him, I can’t help to stifle a laugh.

“Maybe if you pulled your nightgown over your ass, ” he grounds out, “I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

I laugh again. Simple-minded man.

“You won’t be laughing when I get out of these,” he growls, the perfect balance between a threat and sensual promise.

Retrieving the dagger from beneath my pillow, I hop off the bed and strut toward him. I can’t help but smile at his unmistakable frustration. “Is that a threat I hear? Need I remind you of how to speak to me?”

His eyes follow every curve of my body, from my bare feet up my legs to my hips, then he locks onto my eyes.

In this situation, he’s so easy to manipulate.

His green eyes flare with an explosion of anger, frustration, and…

craving . I suppose I wouldn’t be too surprised if he still fantasizes about our one night we had back in Arterias.

Stopping a few steps outside the reach of his chains, I lower to the balls of my feet.

Perhaps physical torture wouldn’t work on Darian—but there are other ways.

I only have to find out what those ways are.

And seeing the raging mix of desire and hatred in his eyes is prompting me in one specific direction.

Edging my knees open slowly, I whisper, “I’d be… happy …to negotiate a deal with you.”

The cold air rushes between my legs, and my skin pebbles. He flicks a narrowed glare from my face down to my legs for a split second, before he jerks his head away, straining against his manacles once more. Desperate to put space between us.

It could be the lack of sleep prompting me.

Maybe even the fact I’m hungry for answers that could lead to eliminating King Aaric and restoring peace in the kingdoms. Or…

or perhaps it’s that, no matter how much I try to mask my ulterior motives, something in me wants him as much as he does me.

I’ve been trying to lie to myself that I’m not drawn to him like a moth to a flame—hungry to touch him even if it means my own demise.

Some undeniable and indestructible burn that catches me by surprise every time.

And out of him and Cole, I can’t feel guilty about this. Only a touch of self-hatred.

“If you tell me why the King is burning down the towns, I’ll touch you,” I whisper as softly as I can.

Pressing himself back against the wall to get as far away from me as possible, he growls, “Don’t you dare.”

But caught within his burning stare, I see it.

How his breath hitches, how his eyes keep wandering lower.

He’s as tempted as I am. Resting my hands on my knees, I slowly drag them up my thighs, the hem of my nightgown sliding with my hands and revealing more and more of my undergarments.

The flat side of my dagger glides across my skin in my right hand, sending a shiver up my back.

“Would you rather…touch me, then?” I ask innocently, before sliding my free hand between my legs and over the warming fabric separating my fingers from my flesh.