Page 30 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

ARA

W e were leaving as soon as Ewan’s ship was ready to sail, ideally in the next few hours.

I’d somehow convinced the controlling, possessive maniac to free me from his room while he finished his discussion with Doran—a feat not easily achieved.

They sat across the tavern, half hidden behind the drunken crowd, but I could feel his eyes on my back. He watched me like a hawk, and it made me want to crawl out of my damned skin.

According to everyone, I was not only a flight risk but a danger to those around me.

I took a long sip of mead, wincing at the cramp in my stomach.

They weren’t entirely wrong.

I wasn’t a flight risk any longer, not if Livvy stayed with them, and they were returning to Draig Hearth, where my mother was. I had to see that she was alive and breathing with my own eyes.

The mug trembled in my hand, mead sloshing over the side, spilling over my fingers.

I tried to send her letters.

They didn’t burn.

I exhaled a long, whimpering breath.

They didn’t burn, because she didn’t feel safe. Not because she was dead. They said she was alive and safe.

Livvy said she was alive. I trusted Livvy.

But the letters didn’t burn.

I needed to see her, so I had to go with them—but not being a flight risk wasn’t their only concern. There was no telling what kind of bombs Adonis planted in my head. We wouldn’t know until they exploded and destroyed…everything.

I downed the rest of my mead, then stared blankly at the wall of bottles as I fought the urge to vomit. My stomach roiled, unaccustomed to this much liquid, let alone alcohol. A barmaid quickly refilled it, and I thanked her, though I didn’t think I could keep any more down.

Lee sat to my right, Livvy past him, and Iaso to my left, having a heated debate with ‘Terran’ who sat on the other side of her. Their voices faded into the background when the chatter of the tavern blurred into one loud roar.

My mind oscillated between two persistent thoughts.

The first was the word immortal , spoken in Iaso’s voice.

That conversation had to have been a dream.

Most of what I remembered was, but I already struggled to separate reality from hallucination, dream, or nightmare, a fact made painfully clear by where my mind went when the pendulum swung the other way.

I drifted back to the dungeon and its deafening silence. It started with ringing in my ears, then it was like listening with my head under water. A loud sound, a bang, a chair screeching, a door slamming—something would inevitably snap me out of it, and reality would flood back in.

He didn’t have to be here to torment me; the scars he left on my psyche did his work for him.

Rogue’s room had been safer. For some reason, the overcrowded bar was sending me back, while his room had been quiet but comfortable. I wasn’t chained or cold or hungry.

With him, and only him, I felt safe , my head quieter, Adonis’s hold not as tight.

Here, though, I felt splayed and alone, despite people on either side of me—two people I did remember…mostly. I remembered who they were, but not how I met them.

We must have met through Rogue, as the origins of our friendships were gone, and he clearly trusted them. Having them both as my watchdogs was the only way Rogue agreed to let me come down here, although the freedom didn’t provide as much air as I thought it might.

I was suffocating all the same.

A drop of water hit my cheek, and my eyes jerked up to the ceiling. A wet spot leaked. Another drop hit my face, drowning me, and my chest burned.

I was suddenly underwater again.

My chest tight. Lungs burning.

My hands shook, flinching when they touched the bite of cold metal—not metal. Wood. I flattened my palms into the worn bar, smooth and warm, but I couldn’t feel it. It was cold, harsh metal with chains attached to every corner, holding shackles designed for my torture.

Another drop hit my face.

Was this it? The last few days, my escape, Livvy—had this all been an illusion? Another mind trick?

My heart pounded painfully, my muscles so tense, it felt like they’d snap a few tendons. I needed to get up. I needed to stand. I needed to run and get away. I needed?—

I practically leapt across the bar when a barmaid walked by.

“Excuse me.” My voice sounded as frantic as I felt, but no one seemed to notice other than the woman who stopped in her tracks. Her hair was so white, I didn’t expect her to be young, yet she appeared my age.

“Yes?” She smiled cautiously, her lips a dark red.

My mouth opened to ask, Is this real? Am I real?

But those words didn’t come. Instead, I fell back in my stool, lips quivering, and managed, “The roof is leaking.”

Her eyes lifted to where I pointed, but she shook her head, her mouth downturned. “I don’t see anything.”

“W-what?” I looked up again, and the wet spot was…gone. I searched the ceiling, every inch, searching for the leak that had been there, but found nothing.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms into them.

Am I going mad?

Was Adonis determined to see someone join him in his derangement? Perhaps that was why he did this to me, because he was lonely in his madness.

My jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth.

Healing ability be damned. He wasn’t invincible. He wasn’t?—

He would die, some way, somehow. He’d die knowing he was alone. Unloved, unwanted, and fucking alone.

Another drop hit my cheek, though. “See. It is?—”

I wiped my cheek to show her proof and stilled. My cheeks were wet, but it was not from the ceiling.

I’m…crying?

I swallowed hard, feeling heat seep into my cheeks, but my lungs still burned, a torment that never ended. I sucked in breath after breath, as slowly as I possibly could.

I didn’t bother searching for the calm.

Why couldn’t my lungs just fucking work? There was enough danger in the world without my own body trying to suffocate me. I used to think it would stop one day. That one magical day, I’d wake up and this would never happen again.

That day would never come. I knew that now.

My own body would always be my greatest opponent, my forever foe.

The barmaid leaned in to whisper, “Are you?—”

“Can I have something stronger?”

She straightened and wiped her hands on her apron. “Of course. What would you like?”

“Anything,” I muttered. “Anything to quiet the noise.”

She stared for a beat too long, her eyes flashing to my pointed ears. “Understood.”

With that, she slipped a hand into her apron and pulled out a thin bottle made of navy glass, its lid an intricate gold. She popped the lid, poured two shots, and handed one to me.

I sniffed it and winced when my nostrils burned. “What is it?”

“A Fae rum.” She downed the liquid, so I did, too. “Of a sort.”

My eyes widened. Fire slid down my throat, and I palmed my sternum when a cough erupted in my lungs—but it worked. Air flooded my system in its wake, and I inhaled a deep breath.

“Of a sort?” I asked, though I didn’t truly care what I’d ingested. It worked, and that was all that mattered.

“Sea Fae,” she whispered.

Iaso’s head whipped toward us. She glanced at me, the barmaid, then at the bottle. “Don’t drink that, child. A recipe made from a Sea Fae is never to be trusted.”

“I made this batch myself.” The barmaid held her hands up, shaking her head in earnest. “There’s no ill will, I swear it.”

Iaso glared at her and whispered, “Then, you know what’s in Sea Fae rum?”

“I do.”

“How did you obtain that?” Iaso asked.

I should have been worried, considering whatever it was must be dangerous or unusual, but giddiness poured through my veins.

For the first time in Goddess knew how long, I felt my body relax. Not a single muscle remained tense.

I must’ve missed a few of their words, because when I refocused on their conversation, they both stared at me. I reared back an inch, eyes wide, and Iaso turned to the barmaid.

She gestured at me with both of her hands. “She’s half human.”

The barmaid’s face fell a second before a smile started to form, and she covered her mouth.

A giggle bubbled in my throat, and she leaned over the bar, her eyes flitting between mine.

“I am so sorry,” she managed through her stifled laughter, and Iaso swatted her arm.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, but my voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded distant and much funnier than I intended. Light euphoria swirled in my chest, and I reveled in it. I could breathe, but more importantly, I could forget.

I could simply exist.

The barmaid glanced at Iaso, then back at me. “You’re about to have a very fun evening.”

My hand lifted to her face, and she froze. I ran my fingers through her hair, as white as sun-bleached shells. “You look strange.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that saying things like that is considered rude?” She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood. “If you need anything, my name is Mae.”

“Well, Mae, I don’t believe I’ll need anything at all.”

The corner of her mouth curved into a smile, and she started to reach for the bottle of magical alcohol.

Before I could think better of it, I snatched it with lightning speed—literally.

A soft shimmer of silver light sparked over my skin while the others seemed to slow, but it all ceased when the bottle hit my lips, and I swallowed the liquid fire.

Someone pulled it from my hands at some point, but I couldn’t tell who or when. I was too busy floating, the sounds of the bar turned enticing, and when music started in the corner, tears stung my eyes. I could practically feel the notes drifting through the air, and I had to follow them. I had to.

I hopped off the bar stool and swayed, but a hand caught me. I jerked away from the touch, my eyes following the dainty arm to the face of its owner. I grinned when I found Livvy.

She leaned into me and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I replied.

Her smile was beautiful. “Good.”

I tipped my head to the dance floor, quirking a brow, and she nodded.

We slipped our way to the center, and the people around us blurred into insignificant colors as we spun and swayed. Giggling filled my ears, my heart light and glorious, but we didn’t make it two full songs before a man—an aggravatingly large pain in the ass—interrupted.

Livvy seemed to respect him, like him even, but when she winked at me and started to leave, I blurted, “No.”

I turned my attention to the overbearing asshole, and the intensity in his gaze rooted me in place. The second I found that captivating red, my entire body crawled with a heat that wasn’t mine.

“No?” he asked, taking my hand into his and lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to the scar he seemed so fond of.

My head whirled back to where Livvy had been standing, but she’d abandoned me, now ten feet away in Lee’s arms.

Traitor.

I lifted my chin to Rogue and repeated, “No.”

“No, what?”

My eyes flitted between his, searching for the answers he thought I had. He was so damned tall, I had to crane my neck up at him, and it made my head spin—or perhaps it was the alcohol. Either way, he was tall and warm and safe, and my body was full of bubbles, in desperate need of something solid.

Did I just call him…safe?

I ripped my hand from his. “No touching.”

He lifted a brow, a smirk on his lips. I shouldn’t have said that, because the look on his face released butterflies in my lower belly. Warmth seeped beneath my skin, along my cheeks, my neck, my core, and it felt like he could see every bit of it.

I shifted on my feet. “And no staring.”

He stepped impossibly closer, and I stifled a gasp when his chest brushed mine. His head tilted to the side, and I suddenly felt like prey.

Stupid, foolish, drunk prey with a death wish, it seemed, as his warning about running whispered in the back of my mind.

“What do you remember about the mate bond?” he asked.

I didn’t know how I could hear him over everyone else in the tavern; it’d been earsplitting earlier, but now, it was just me and him, alone, entrapped.

Prey.

“I know what the mate bond is,” I said. “It connects two people for…offspring, but the other half is the claiming, choosing to be with someone for life and biting their…”

My words trailed off when I realized his eyes had fallen to the spot he’d bitten me.

He had bitten me like a damned animal, but I’d apparently bitten him back.

My gaze lowered to the mark at the base of his neck, small compared to his massive form, and I suddenly realized he never kept it covered.

It was always on display, the top buttons of his shirt left open, like he was… proud of it.

I could almost imagine doing it, sinking my teeth into skin with him inside me, and?—

Oh.

We’d had sex before.

I’d had sex with the King of Ravaryn.

My feet instinctively took a step back. My mind might not remember him, but my body clearly did.

His chest rose on an inhale, and he matched my step with one of his own, allowing no space, no air, no mercy.

“What else do you remember?” he asked.

I shook my head. It was too fuzzy between him, the alcohol, everything. My thoughts were running rampant with images of his body, of a certain part of him that I just knew would satisfy a deep ache right now, and I couldn’t tell if they were real or imagined.

Fuck, what did he ask?

I needed to move. I needed release.

Water.

I needed water or a drink or ice, because he was burning me alive with nothing but his fucking presence.

Who was this man? A demon sent to torment me when Adonis couldn’t?

But this torment was different. This torment was…desperate and hungry, and he looked delectable.

“What else,” he whispered, “do you remember?”

I licked my lips, and his mouth tilted up in a slight grin, expectant, cocksure, like he’d already won whatever game he played.

I believed under normal circumstances, I would’ve bit my tongue or at least said my next words with less confidence, yet they fell from me, breathy but sure as ever. “A mate who’s given themselves can scent the partner’s arousal.”

He hummed a sound of approval. “Good girl.”

My heart skipped a beat before racing.

I was certain my thoughts were somehow written on my forehead, but I couldn’t be bothered to care, not right now.

In fact…

I hoped he could. I hoped he could see exactly what was in my mind right now.

He lowered his mouth to my ear. “And what do you think I smell right now?”

A small breath escaped my parted lips, but I tilted an inch in his direction. He stilled when my mouth skimmed along his cheek.

“I would imagine you’re smelling exactly how aroused I am,” I whispered, and the room grew ten degrees hotter.