Page 7 of Son of the Drowned Empire

Chapter Six

I punched the wall before I tore off my armor, throwing my weapons and clothes into the corner of my room, not bothering to hang the leathers over my dummy. Every muscle ached, and every inch of my skin either hurt, itched, or burned. I was so fucking exhausted. My father’s words were pounding in my head.

Coward. Idiot. Weak. Failure. Embarrassment to the Ka.

I knew it wasn’t true. I knew better than to listen to his words. Than to succumb to his insults. I’d told myself a thousand times. But somehow knowing this didn’t alleviate the pain, didn’t take away the feeling. Somehow tonight, I couldn’t shake free of his grip, of his hatred.

His disappointment.

And now there were his new demands.

Win. Kill.

I’d kept my feelings buried for a year. And now…I couldn’t gain control. Couldn’t tamp them down.

A bath would have been nice. Or a shower. Something to wash away this night, his touch. Something to soothe my nerves. To forget the task he’d set before me.

But I was too Godsdamned tired to move. And I didn’t have it in me to call for a servant to arrange one. I didn’t want to see the question in their eyes, nor could I bear the moment they understood what had happened, understood and continued to remain silent.

Down to my short-pants, I sat on the bed, reconsidering if I should at least call for some mead. Perhaps I could drink enough to black out. Not dream. Not think.

Not feel.

Auriel’s bane. Something had shifted within me tonight, and it was overwhelming. I’d felt dead inside for so long. Every feeling seemed like too much.

There was a soft knock on my door.

“Come in,” I called, my eyes closed, my elbows heavy on my knees as I winced. Whatever Bowen wanted, I didn’t fucking care.

Instead of his voice, a soft, feminine one said, “I’m sorry it’s so late…or early, I suppose.”

I looked up immediately. “Kenna.”

She wore a cream-colored shawl around her shoulders, her arms wrapped around herself, like she was cold despite the warmth of the summer night. Her brown hair was loose, falling past her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just…” She shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

I slid off the bed, crossing the room and wrapping her in my arms. “It’s okay. You can always come here, you know that.”

She nodded, letting her weight fall against me as her aura swept around me, cold and heavy. “I feel so stupid. I didn’t even fight them. But, Rhy, I’ve never been so scared before. Learning about the akadim and hearing the stories about them, it’s not the same as seeing them. Seeing them invade somewhere…somewhere you thought was your own. Somewhere you thought was safe. And knowing that your family, your friends, your…” Her eyes caught mine, her voice breaking. “The people you care about…knowing they were out there, too.” She held me tighter.

It was almost a relief to feel her in my arms. It had been hours since we’d touched, since the danger had started. And it was a relief to be touched gently again—not with the intention to hurt me, kill me, or force an oath.

And…if I were being honest—I was relieved to touch someone in return in that way.

“It’s okay. It’s not stupid. It’s a lot to take in.” I stroked her hair, pushing it off her shoulder. “I’ve seen them. Many times. You never get used to it.”

Her eyes searched mine as she absorbed the words, and then something shifted in her aura, some kind of uncertainty. “I know we don’t really, usually…” She trailed off, pressing her cheek back against my chest. “But,” she said, her voice unsure, “can I stay with you tonight?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Of course, you can.” I wrapped my fingers around her hand, pulling back so I could turn and lead her to the bed.

But Kenna froze. “Rhy! Gods, your back.”

I released her hand, turning abruptly on my heels to face her. “It’s nothing,” I said. I was suddenly hyper-aware of every cut, bruise, scrape, and scar that marred my flesh. Kenna had seen me naked more times than I could remember, but never like this, never when the wounds were this fresh, this raw, this new. I hadn’t even bothered attempting to bandage them. What was the point? My soturion strength was already healing them. There’d just be more come tomorrow.

But underlying all of that was the one scar that burned far worse than the others. The one from Garrett.

I felt my heart thudding, trying to pound its way out of my chest. The cut on my back flamed to life as if warning me how close I was to breaking my oath.

Me sha, me ka…

Kenna stepped forward, her eyes raking over the cuts and scrapes across my chest.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe I’d been this careless. This stupid.

But her eyes softened. Not with pity nor accusation, but fear. “That’s what the akadim did to you?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and something unclenched inside me. She didn’t know about the blood oath. About the vorakh. She didn’t know what my father had to done to me. Didn’t understand the calculated pattern of cuts and bruises across my back. And she never would.

I nodded. “Shhhh.” I wrapped her in my arms again. “Ken, I promise you, I’m all right. This is what soturi train for. I’ll be okay, I swear.” I tried to laugh. “Garrett looks even worse. And don’t forget the hangover Dario will be nursing tomorrow.”

She chuckled, still sniffling, and I kissed the top of her head.

She pulled back, just enough to run her fingers over my chest, her palm flattened against my heart. “And… you’re… you’re safe? Not going to turn into one?”

I shook my head. “No. See.” I pulled her hand away, locking my fingers with hers. “No black mark. I’m not forsaken. Not going to turn akadim. I swear.”

Kenna nodded.

“Come to the bed.” I started pulling her back again, not wanting to give her a second look at my back, to ponder the questions I’d seen in all of my best friends’ eyes for years—questions that remained unasked. Questions I could never answer.

She frowned but with a faraway look in her brown eyes and let me lead her to sit on the edge of my mattress. I pulled back the covers for her then hesitated. Kenna never slept over. Nor did I stay overnight with her. My room was missing any sort of personal affects she might require or want to spend the night.

“Is there anything you need?” I asked. “For bed?”

Kenna shook her head, still watching my face carefully. “I’m fine. But what about you? Are you in pain?”

I was. I was in so much pain, I could barely hold it in. Auriel’s bane, even my heart hurt. But I couldn’t show it. I couldn’t risk her mentioning anything of my extended injuries to Dario. I couldn’t risk Garrett worrying I’d let Kenna in on our secret. I couldn’t bear the looks in their eyes as they again revealed they suspected what was happening to me but, because of who I was, and because of who my father was, they wouldn’t do or say a thing.

I cupped my hand around her slim neck and turned her to me, brushing my lips against hers. I kissed her gently at first, like always, allowing her to take the lead, to decide when to deepen the kiss and let it become something more.

Kenna crawled onto my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist, and with a moan, she pressed herself against me, a frenetic energy in her aura, like she was clinging to something—something to wash away the night’s horror and fear.

She was already wet. I was sure of it even if I couldn’t feel it through the fabric of the clothing between us. Her hands ran gently, down my back. I stifled a whine of pain. Rolling her hips into me, she kissed me again, her tongue stroking mine until she let out a small noise of frustration and pulled back.

I wasn’t hard. Not even close. I hurt too much. I felt too defeated.

Kenna’s cheeks were no longer red with arousal but embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have. You’re hurt. We don’t… we don’t have to. I swear I didn’t come here for that. I came to sleep.”

My eyes searched hers. And my father’s words, his threats, his demands all pounded through my mind.

“We can do both,” I growled, determined to not let any further weakness show. To prove I could do this. To prove I was strong, that my will was still stronger than my heart.

“Rhy,” she gasped.

I tightened my grip on her waist, pressing her against me as I flipped her onto her back and rolled over her body. Her eyes widened in surprise at my sudden aggression, a question pulsing through her aura. I’d never taken her like this.

I’d almost always been the one on top with my past lovers, the one initiating the act, the one needing release to take the edge off a rough day and forget myself. But since my father had ordered me to fuck my way through the nobility and prove I was a man capable of bearing heirs, I’d been on the bottom. Every single time. I let them do what they wanted to me, take what they wanted. Even with Kenna, even when we rolled around the bed, shifting positions for hours, this was where I started. It just seemed easier that way. I could pretend I wasn’t heartbroken or powerless. I could pretend I wasn’t passive or disinterested. Pretend I simply preferred it like this.

I pressed myself between Kenna’s thighs, forcing myself to be present. I pulled the hem of her dress up her smooth legs, higher and higher, until she was bare, and ran my fingers over her skin, feeling her warmth, her softness. Up and up my hand moved until it covered her breast; small and round, it fit perfectly into my palm. I squeezed, thumbing her peaked nipple as she writhed beneath me, a moan on her lips. Her fingers tangled in my hair, as I licked my way down her smooth belly, parting her thighs, sucking on her center as she whimpered, lifting and pressing herself against me. And there it was. I was hard.

Whether it was the adrenaline of the night kicking in, some animalistic instinct taking over me, or an actual spark rising between us, everything felt like it shifted in that moment. I wanted her. I craved her. I needed her like I never had before.

The cut on my back promised death, but here in Kenna’s arms—between her legs and her mouth and her warmth—here was life. Just like earlier when I’d realized I’d wanted to live, I felt it again, that need to feel alive, to feel a connection.

I no longer wanted to want.

I wanted.

I hungered.

Heat rushed through me. “Gods, Kenna, the taste of you,” I said, licking and sucking, needing to drink every last drop of her arousal.

I pulled her legs over my shoulders, pumping one finger into her and then another until she squirmed and cried out. Even as her legs shook, I didn’t relent. I couldn’t stop tasting her, sucking her, kissing her, as if my life depended on it.

She tensed again beneath me. I felt her pause and reach for my shoulders, drawing me up her body, her hand slipping beneath my short-pants, wrapping around me, stroking and teasing as I bucked against her, somehow growing harder.

There was an almost shy smile creeping across her lips before I kissed her again, rougher this time. The need that seemed to have been asleep for ages had awakened inside of me. I couldn’t explain it. A moment ago, I’d been ready to pass out, not caring what happened. And now it felt like if I pressed myself close enough to her, I could live—I could find life. I could protect myself from the death that had surrounded me all evening, from the doom I felt around the secret I carried, from the oath I had to fulfill.

Whatever sensation had come alive inside me, she felt it, too. Her heels pressed into the bed as she rolled her hips to meet mine again and again. There’d never been this passion, this desperation, before between us.

We were frantic to come together as if we’d been waiting for this a long time, the two of us pulling her dress off completely. She reached for what remained of my clothes, sliding them down until I was able to kick them off around my ankles.

My breath came in shallow pants. The need to be inside her was overwhelming as she rubbed herself against me, coating me in her arousal.

“Is this okay?” I asked, suddenly unsure of myself. I normally took my time, and I never took this much control. I was rarely so full of need, so full of the desperation to fuck that we got here this quickly. I’d never once exhibited this much aggression. Not once had I wanted it this badly. Not since…

Kenna smiled, nodding breathlessly as I plunged inside her. My heart pounded. Our eyes locked, I held her gaze as I moved in and out at a brutal pace, she matched thrust for thrust, and our hands joined above her head. I’d seen Kenna come undone so many times, but every time it had happened, she had been over me, her face distant from mine or pressed against my chest or shoulder.

Her eyes always somewhere else. Looking away. Away from me.

Not tonight.

Tonight, her eyes bore into mine, holding my gaze, steady and unwavering and beautiful. When I came, I felt something come apart inside of me, a longing and a need that should have been sated but were only just beginning to awaken. Like a dream I’d just remembered.

She pulled my face to hers, kissing me and kissing me until I slid out, still panting, and lay beside her. My eyes closed, an uneasy feeling snaking through my insides. The need, the want…they had been real. They had been so fucking real, so consuming, and now…now I didn’t know.

Inside of Kenna, I could have sworn that something had sparked to life inside of me. Something I’d thought was gone. Hope.

But something was off. Something felt wrong.

Still trying to catch my breath, to temper the unruly beating of my heart, I pulled Kenna against me. She didn’t push me away, and we fell asleep together for the first time, our arms and bodies entangled. I tried to take comfort in small victories. At least tonight, at least for a few moments, I hadn’t hurt anymore. I could feel that, for once, my heart was alive, it was still beating. I could still feel something beyond pain. Something better. Something sweet. But it was something unbelievably dangerous.

My boots slid across the soft sand of the beach as the waves of the ocean rolled back and forth across the shore. The sun beat down, too hot, too bright, and I walked forward, catching sight of something shimmery in the water.

I had to get to it, retrieve it from the ocean’s depths. Green light flashed, painfully bright, emerald… like my eyes. Then, the sand seemed to erupt like a small volcano until I could see golden leaves rising from beneath its surface.

The sun tree stood tall against the beach, having grown in impossible conditions, with impossible speed.

The waves crashed against the shore again and again, but their sound was gone, and instead, I heard only a light breeze, the rustling of leaves, and a familiar sigh.

Lyriana leaned back against the tree, looking up at me with her beautiful hazel eyes, her thick lashes painted black, and her lips that perfect shade of pink that was all her own. The golden light of the tree and sun shined down on her, turning her beautiful dark wavy hair to flaming red.

Batavia red.

I reached for a strand, rolled it around my finger, and waited for the fires to burn me, but her locks were soft and smooth. Cool to the touch.

“You left,” she said, her voice distant and echoing across the waves.

My heart sank at her words. “I had to. To protect you.”

She nodded, understanding. “You couldn’t protect her.” Sadness coated her voice.

“I miss her letters.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I miss her.”

I wiped it away with my finger, watching in fascination as the tear transformed into a seven-pointed star, golden and shimmery, almost blinding in its brightness until it vanished into nothing.

“You haven’t visited my dreams in a long time,” I said.

She gave me an accusatory look, her face suddenly full of a stubborn defiance I knew well. “That’s because you tried to forget me.”

“But I can’t.”

“Neither can I,” she breathed.

My breath was heavy, like I couldn’t get enough air. She smelled so sweet, like vanilla and lemon and something musky, something that was just… her. It was overwhelming me, drowning out the salt of the ocean. And my heart pounded. I had a distant memory of it beating, thundering in my chest. And thinking it was real. But it wasn’t, it was shallow. It was nothing compared to this, to this feeling being before her. This was being alive. This was wanting.

“You feel so real,” I said.

She smiled. “Because I am.”

“It’s your birthday.”

She stared past me. “Not anymore. I stopped celebrating.”

“Lyriana.” I took her chin in my hand.

“It never stops,” she said.

“What never stops?”

“You know.”

I leaned forward, one hand against the tree, the other sliding to cup her cheek as I lowered my lips to hers.

I paused, just a breath away from her, waiting for permission.

Lyr nodded, and with a groan, I kissed her. She tasted so sweet, so familiar. I dipped my tongue into her mouth, needing more, needing to devour her until I understood the answer to some question I hadn’t asked yet, but knew in my soul that I would.

Suddenly, the leaves of the tree crumpled and caught fire until even the roots were gone. Lyr stood several feet away from me, her bare feet in the water, the waves rushing forcefully against her ankles.

The water rose, rising to her calves and her knees, drenching and pulling down her white dress.

Panic thrashed through me. I ran forward, but I couldn’t get anywhere; my feet kept stepping down in the same place. I pumped my arms at my side, running faster, faster, gasping for breath. But the water kept rising, higher and higher, and I couldn’t get ahead. I couldn’t move.

“Lyriana!” I screamed. “Lyr! You’ll drown!”

“I know,” she said calmly, the water now at her waist.

“Come out of the water!”

She shook her head. “I’m drowning.”

Come on, come on, come on! Fuck!

If I ever needed my vorakh to work, it was now. But I couldn’t travel. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop running in place. My feet were digging holes into the sand.

“Lyr!” I roared, desperate. “Swim!”

She remained still, the water now covering her breasts.

“LYR!”

Beside her, a man emerged from the water, his head turned away from me. His hair gleamed a rich brown in the sun, and he moved forward in the water, away from the shore, deeper and deeper, dragging Lyr with him.

“LYR!” I roared again, my heart shattering. “Lyr! No!”

The man turned to look at me, his eyes raking me up and down with disinterest. Lord Tristan Grey. He turned away again, pulling Lyr farther back, farther away from me, farther into the water.

“He’s drowning me,” she said, her voice still calm, serene.

The waters rushed over her head.

I jolted awake, my chest heaving, barely able to breathe. I was suffocating on the scents of vanilla, musk, and lemon. The way Lyriana had smelled two summers ago.

Kenna stirred beside me, as the visions of Lyr raced through my mind. The taste of her was on my lips, far more real and intense in my dream than Kenna’s had been last night. My fear, lingering from the dream, was making me sick, drowning my body in a cold sweat.

Rushing to my bathing room, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the images of Lyriana going beneath the waters to cleanse themselves from my mind.

Myself to Moriel. My dreams were often so hard to hang onto, filled with images I’d awake to, wishing to remember, desperate to keep, only to lose them the moment I sat up in bed.

So many had been filled with her—lost the instant my eyes opened.

But not this one. Gods, why? Why was this the one that would stay to haunt me?

I sank to my knees, my stomach twisting as I wretched. My face was covered in sweat, and I barely had the strength to wipe at my mouth before I sat back against the cold wall of my bathing room, trying to breathe and clear my mind.

He’s drowning me.

The door creaked open, and Kenna stood before me, wrapped in my blanket.

“Rhy, are you okay?” she asked, crouching beside me.

I shook my head, turning away, not wanting her to see me like this—not wanting her to have to deal with me. It didn’t matter how often we’d fucked or confided in each other or that we’d spent last night wrapped in each other’s arms.

It wasn’t until last night I’d felt true intimacy with Kenna, and now I understood why I’d been so hungry for her. I’d thought my will was stronger than my heart, but it wasn’t. My emotions… they were back in full force. In every way. And as much as I knew now that something like love was growing between Kenna and me, it still wasn’t enough. My heart was always going to belong to Lyriana. Was always going to beat for her. It was always going to hunger for her, no matter how deeply it opened to anyone else.

Kenna sat down beside me, holding open the blanket for me to move in toward her. I did and felt her arm wrap around me, warm and reassuring, but I couldn’t face her, couldn’t speak.

All I could see was Lyr. All I could feel was Lyr.

Lyriana.

Kenna took my chin in her hand, turning me to face her.

“Ken, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice shaky. Everything between us felt like it was bursting inside my heart, and yet floating outside my body—too delicate and fragile to survive. I was terrified. Feeling was dangerous. Feeling for Kenna… Kenna who was already under my father’s roof could be deadly—another toy for him to play with—to torture, to threaten.

“Rhy, it’s okay. Whatever it is. I’m right here. I’m with you.”

I rested my head on her shoulder, and her hand stroked my hair. I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t know how I could. She was there, and she was real, and I was raw with need and something like the beginnings of love for her.

But Lyriana was here, too, her ghost far too present, far too real for what she was, for what she’d been.

“You’re okay,” Kenna soothed. “I’ve got you.”

I’m drowning.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I squeezed my eyes shut, sinking into Kenna’s touch.

Me, too. Me, too.