Page 25

Chapter 24

Rhyker

I go to my kitten’s room first, my footsteps silent. My heart thrums with anticipation as I approach the door, a wicked smile curling at the edges of my lips. She's supposed to be here at this hour.. This is her routine, and I know her routine, inside and out.

But her room is empty.

A flush of anger surges up in me. She strayed from her routine. I make myself step back and draw a deep breath. Her scent hangs in the air, light, a whisper of vanilla and peony. It cools the jagged edge of my anger, but only barely.

I close my eyes and replay everything I know about her. She's not in her room, fine. That's okay. She mixes things up sometimes—just to keep me on my toes; I like to think. The image brings a soft chuckle under my breath. Clever girl.

The courtyard, of course, is where she would be found when seeking fresh air or space. I spin abruptly and pad swiftly towards the courtyard; my heavy boots on the stone floor almost silent.

My movements are quick as I round the corner. Whatever she's doing, I'll find her. I always find her. She can't escape me, not that she would want to, of course. She just doesn't know yet how perfectly we fit together. But she will.

She'll see.

As I walk towards the courtyard, I see movement off to the side, where the cobblestones meets the dark forest. Selestina has her knife to someone’s throat. As I move closer, I realize it’s the douchebag from Metztli. Etzli Moreno. The general in the making.

My kitten is panting but not from desire, and I can see that she doesn’t want him to die. She is looking for a way to fix this.

What exactly is she trying to fix? What kind of trouble has my kitten gotten herself into?

Before I blink, I see Etzli reach into his collar and pull out a vial. Selestina tries to stop him, but in one quick motion, the contents of the vial are down his throat, and the almost general of the night kingdom is gone with the wind.

Good riddance. I hated that pompous asshole.

But my kitten, she starts breathing quicker, backing up before she plops herself on the ground. She is looking everywhere and nowhere, not even knowing that I am here. I know she knows I watch her, I see her face change the moment she picks up my scent. But here and now? It’s like she has completely forgotten the world around her.

Selestina sits on the gravel, her back straight, her hands shaking, twisting into her lap. Her breathing is shallow and irregular, as if she struggles to pull enough air into her lungs, yet is never satisfied. Her head is hunched down, a curtain of hair obscuring her face, but I don't need to see it. I feel it in the way panic rolls off her in waves, sharp and jagged .

My kitten is coming undone.

I fall to my knees before her, careful not to startle her, but she’s not even looking at me. She looks up towards the stars. Her chest heaves with fast, shallow breaths, her mouth opens as if to speak and but no words come out. The slight trembling of her hands becomes more pronounced, her nails claw into the fabric of her skirt. I reach out, touching my fingertips to hers. Her body goes taut at the contact, but she doesn't pull away.

“Hello, kitten,” I murmur, my voice low, careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter her completely.

She barely lifts her head, her eyes not even reaching mine, “Fuck. Off. R-Rhyker,” my kitten croaks. Her breathing quickens, shallow gasps that make my chest ache. The panic in her is a living, breathing curse, clawing at her, and I can't stand to watch it consume her.

“Fuck, kitten. Say my name again.” I love that she knows it’s me, even in her haze of disorientation. Her breathing gets quicker, and I see my mirror. This woman. This gods damn woman who mirrors me in every single way. I know how to fix this, to fix her .

“Breathe with me,” I whisper, leaning closer, my hands ghosting over hers but not yet closing the distance. “In through your nose, slowly. Count with me. One… two…”

Her breathing catches, but she doesn't follow. I press on, lowering my voice to just a vibration between us. “You're safe, kitten. You're here, at the academy. No one can touch you. I won't let them.”

Her shoulders shake, and for a moment, I think she might pull away, retreat further into herself. But then, slowly, her head lifts and those eyes, those defiant, burning hazel eyes, lock onto mine. There's so much in them: terror, confusion, anger. But beneath it all, there's trust, however fragile.

“That's it,” I murmur, careful to keep my voice soft as silk. “Just stay with me. In and out, kitten. Match me.”

I breathe deliberately slow, exaggerating each inhale and exhale. Her chest rises and falls unevenly, but she tries. Gods, she tries so hard.

My hand finally closes over hers, firm but careful, anchoring her to the moment. Her fingers are cold and shaking, but she doesn't pull away.

The silence extends, only her ragged breaths breaking it. I stroke my thumb over the back of her hand, a slow, soothing touch, as though I might will the panic out of her with that touch alone. “You're stronger than this,” I whisper, leaning in until our foreheads almost touch.

Her breathing evens out, just barely, and the trembling in her hands subsides. Her eyes shine with unshed tears clinging to her lashes, but she doesn't let them spill over. She blinks at me, really looking for the first time, seeing me.

“Good girl,” I murmur, the words spilling out unbidden. Her pupils dilate at the praise, a reaction so slight I almost miss it. I see everything when it comes to her.

A soft, bitter laugh escapes her lips, but it's a victory sound. She's coming back to me, piece by piece. I can feel it. I want to stitch together every broken shard of her and make it whole again.

“You don't know me,” she says, her voice soft but sure. Her eyes search mine, trying to piece together what I can barely admit to myself. “How would you know what I am strong enough to overcome?” She scrunches her eyebrows at me, trying to understand me.

I decide to let her in on my little secret.

“I like to watch you,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. “At night. When you sleep. When you think no one is there, I am. I've never wanted anything more than to reach out and touch you. To see if you'd burn me or break me.”

Her lips part slightly, her breathing shallow, but not from panic this time. I see it in her eyes, the war between disgust and something she doesn't want to name. Her pupils are blown, her body rigid, but there's a softness in the way she leans ever so slightly toward me.

“You shouldn't say things like that,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I smirk, my hand moving to cup her face, my thumb brushing against her jawline. “Why not? Does it scare you? Or do you like it?”

Her eyes widen further, but she doesn't move. Her silence speaks louder than any words could. She feels it too. The pull. The inevitability of us.

She looks down, but I raise her chin with my fingertips so that her eyes are forced to meet mine. “I want you,” I say in a low, heavy voice. “Every bit of fire, every ounce of defiance, all you have within you. I want to possess every thought in your head, every breath of air in your lungs. I want you to burn for me, kitten. I want to own every single inch of you.”

Her lips part, and a soft exhale escapes her. I see the moment she surrenders. The battle in her eyes fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. I could drown in it, and I would go willingly.

But I don't close the distance yet. I let the moment stretch, let her feel the weight of my words, of my gaze. She has to know this isn't infatuation. This is an obsession, and I’m hers to command.

She blinks up at me, her lips trembling as if to speak, but unable. I don't need her to. Her eyes say enough. For now, that's enough.

“Nobody owns me,” she whispers, the softest voice, her words trembling like her legs do as she pushes herself up to stand. She walks unsteadily, her every step tentative, as if she’s not sure the ground will hold her upright.

I watch her retreating figure, the tension in her shoulders betraying the weight she's carrying.

This isn't over, not by a long shot.