Page 7 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame (Heir of Wyvara #1)

CHAPTER SIX

AMEIRAH

M y eyes bulged so wide it was a genuine worry that they’d pop out of my head. I couldn’t decide whether to stare at the mammoth four-poster bed in front of me or the ring Varidian held out to me. It was fashioned from a band of fae gold burned in a flame so hot it turned black and set with dragon opals that sparkled a dozen different hues of purple, turquoise, and pink. It was beautiful, the play of colour in the stones pulling me closer. I didn’t even want to think about how much a single dragon opal cost. Enough to run my father’s home for a year.

“How many stones…?”

“Ten.”

“Ten,” I echoed, staring at the insane piece of jewellery. Ten dragon opals. In blackened fae gold. I was going to pass out. “You’ve lost your mind. Show me yours.”

Varidian’s smile was unrepentant despite the astronomical sum the ring must have cost. And he was giving it to a woman he’d never met—was he truly insane?

I stared at him in a state of shock as he produced a similar band of fae gold, thicker than the one he intended for me, sturdier, with a single large dragon opal in the middle. It had been faceted like a checkerboard and sparkled in the torchlight.

“You have more money than sense,” I said without thinking, my brain-to-mouth filter in tatters.

Varidian shrugged, drawing my eye. I tried extremely hard not to look at him. Instead of changing into clean clothes, he’d made the questionable decision to forego a shirt. A whole plain of gold-brown skin was on display for me. Surely no one needed that many muscles? Surely no man before had possessed that many?

Shit, I was looking.

I dragged my stare back to the rings in his hand, but it didn’t erase the image of his naked chest from my mind. The serpent tattoo that began at his throat flowed down his collarbones and coiled on his chest. I flexed my traitorous fingers, trying to erase the sudden need to trace every scale etched in the snake’s body.

“If wanting to spoil my wife makes me mad, so be it.” Varidian wasn’t deterred by my remark. Worse, with every too-sharp, careless word from my mouth, the gleam in his eyes grew, like he was delighted by me. It threw me completely. I was prepared to have to work for my husband’s tolerance, let alone his fondness, and yet Varidian looked like he was enamoured with me.

Like I said, the man was mad.

“You know how much a ring like this is worth, surely,” I said, my stomach knotting for a whole new reason as I took the thick band from him and reached for his other hand. It had been a long time since I’d touched someone, and since someone had let me, even with the gloves protecting him from direct contact. My heart pounded. Varidian didn’t flinch. Maybe he lacked critical self-preservation. Maybe flirting with death at the border and possessing that deadly magic of his had dulled the fear of dying we were all born with.

Whatever the reason, it gave me butterflies, and that was damned inconvenient.

I liked the act of putting the ring on his finger, liked the visible claim I had on him. My husband, the warrior, the prince. I fought a bubble of wild laughter.

“My turn,” Varidian said with obvious relish, that spark in his eyes even brighter. His irises shone like sunlight through precious stone. The butterflies in my belly went wild.

What was happening? I wasn’t supposed to have a real marriage, where my husband truly wanted me. Had he suffered a solid knock to the head before our celebration ceremony?

“Over the gloves,” I said quickly when he reached for my hand. Fear and panic joined the heat boiling in my blood.

“What secrets are you keeping beneath this silk?” he asked, taking a graceful step closer, peering down at me with enough heat to start a fire.

“Stop looking so curious,” I huffed, shaking my head.

“Stop being so alluring,” he countered, one corner of his mouth curling into a crooked smile.

“I could kill you,” I pointed out, exasperated.

His smile grew. What was wrong in the mind of this man? He was driving me mad now. “If that’s the will of my wife, I’ll accept it.”

I had to turn away for a moment to compose myself. It didn’t work.

“You—you’re a warrior. You ride your wyvern into battle and face enemies who would kill you, yet somehow, you’ve managed to survive certain death. And you’d let me kill you? Are you insane?”

Varidian shrugged. Shit, now I was looking at him again, trailing my eyes from the snake on his chest to all those tempting ridges and muscles carved into his stomach. No, be strong, Ameirah! It’s just a body. A drool-inducing, pulse-pounding, insanely attractive body with so much coiled power that it could bring me both paradise and torment.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ll kill me,” Varidian said, still far too close to me, the heat of him brushing against me like the slow arch of a cat’s back. “But you’re free to give me a little wound if it will allow me to place my ring on your finger.”

I barely resisted the urge to drop my head in my hands. This man was… ugh!

“I’ll put it on my own finger. That way I won’t kill you,” I proposed, the amber and oud scent of him invading all my senses as I reached closer, taking the obscene ring from him. Ten dragon opals. Ten!

“Dissatisfactory,” he rumbled, with the same pouting scowl I’d seen on his wyvern’s face. “But as long as it gets my ring on your finger, I’ll cope.”

I slit the glove down my arm, giving Varidian a strange look when he fixated on the movement, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

“No warts, curse tattoos, or gruesome scars,” he said, his head tilted.

“No touching,” I warned, sliding the ring onto my finger and surprised by how well it fit and how good it looked on me. Covetousness flared as I stared at those sparkling pools of light in each opal, my heartbeat deepening.

“It looks good on you,” Varidian said, quiet and rough.

I was too busy fluttering my fingers to admire the play of colour on the stones to look at him. “It’s a beautiful ring.”

“I meant your smile,” he corrected, and this time I dragged my attention from the ring, meeting his stare and finding his eyes very soft. For the second time today, I wondered if we’d have a real marriage built on affection, not just political gain.

“I don’t often have reasons to smile,” I admitted, not quite able to sever the eye contact.

“I’d better buy you dragon opals every day, then,” he said thoughtfully.

“Don’t you dare!”

His laugh filled the whole room, as warm and sweet as mint tea. “Don’t tempt me.”

I narrowed my eyes in warning. He only grinned wider, a softness to the look. “I know this is all new and strange, and you don’t know me—or trust me—but I’m glad my father chose you. I’d rather die than wed a boring woman, and I can already say with certainty marriage to you will be anything but boring.”

The compliments found their mark, until my face was warm and a whole swarm of butterflies filled my gut instead of the small group I’d begun with.

“I can promise things will never be dull. My cousin used to say the sharp humour of my tongue could make an imam snort laughter.” Thinking about her hurt. Memories hit with clarity—Naila covered in blood, her body shredded and dumped in Strava square by a heinous warrior who’d vanished before I could kill him. The bastard was the only person in the world I’d willingly use my dark power on.

Varidian smiled down at me. “Was she at the wedding? I remember meeting your aunt and cousins, but they were all men.”

“She died,” I said, hating the choked quality of my voice. “She was my only friend.”

Oh, that was sad. Why had I told him that?

Varidian brushed my cheek with a knuckle before I could think to stop him, and the touch felt so good I leaned into it.

To deflect, I added with a little laugh, “I’m glad your father chose me, too. I think my father agreed to the marriage in the hopes you’d use your power on me.”

Varidian looked horrified. He dropped his touch from my face; I tried not to frown at the loss.

I shrugged. “Or murder me.”

“I’ll murder him,” Varidian threatened, his voice a sudden growl that made me laugh.

“He’s like a cockroach; very hard to kill. But you’re welcome to try.”

The expression on Varidian’s face was still dark, his eyes distant as he imagined what he’d do to my father. I’d thought about killing him so many times, but I didn’t have the nerve. And no matter how I resented him for being a bad father, he was my father, and I loved him with all the foolish intensity of a child who didn’t know better.

“Stop thinking about killing my father,” I huffed, nudging Varidian very carefully with my gloved hand. “It’s inappropriate on a woman’s wedding night.”

Varidian laughed, bright eyes focusing on me, but he sobered in an instant. “About that. Just because the vultures at our celebration are so intent on deflowering you doesn’t mean I am. We can take our time, become properly acquainted with each other before we take that final step.”

I drew back, an arrow of hurt piercing my chest. “Do you find me so hideous? No, don’t answer that, I can figure out the answer myself.”

Varidian’s eyes flashed, the only warning before he lunged forward a dangerous step. “Do not mistake my feelings, Ameirah Saber.”

Ohh. That name came with a strange effect; I felt it in my gut, felt it lower. Ameirah Saber. No longer a member of House Jaouhari who’d never wanted me, but a family of royals and legends.

When my husband took another coiled step, I retreated, bumping into a dresser inlaid with sapphire and crimson mosaic. My heart threw itself against my ribcage, beating hard enough to surely dent bone.

“I want you so much it’s torture to be in a bedroom with you,” Varidian breathed, his voice both soft and gravelly. “It’s almost comical that you believe I don’t want you when all I can think of is all the things we could do on that bed behind us. Or on this dresser perhaps.”

My face was a furnace, my heart a bellows fanning heat to the rest of my body.

“I see,” I croaked. It would have been nice to speak in a low, sultry tone right now, but seduction was not a natural trait of mine. All those racy books read, and no useful skills learned.

Well, maybe one or two. Not that Varidian would let me put them to use. His loss, honestly.

“You must think me breakable then,” I breathed, acutely aware of the mere inches between our bodies and the dresser’s solid edge pressing to my back. Nowhere to run. And why did I want to run anyway? The only thing my mind and body wanted to do was run my hands all over that glorious body. My emotions, though? They were in a constant state of flux.

“You’re a Saber,” he replied, his eyes fixed on my face. “None of us are breakable. But I do understand that it’s too soon, and I am completely fine with waiting. Give me your arm; I’ll make a small cut to stain the sheets. It will barely hurt, I promise.”

I stared at Varidian, my heart fuelled by insult and offence now. The desire was still there; it was affronted, too.

“No.”

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, frustration showing. “You won’t even let me touch you. Do you think I’m a brute?”

I frowned. “No.”

“But you won’t let me touch you?”

“I’ve told you—”

“It’ll be over quickly,” he interrupted me, grabbing my hand too quickly for me to avoid the touch. I stared at him in horror, my heart crashing.

“You stupid, stupid man!” I cried, ripping my hand from his before he could make the cut, each breath coming sharper than the last. I warned him! “Your stubbornness has killed you; I hope you’re satisfied.”

“I don’t feel particularly dead,” he drawled, but his expression turned grave when he grasped how serious I was. I was on the verge of a meltdown, gasping, my head spinning, waiting for the screams to start. I remembered the screams of my baby sister, remembered the piercing howl of the clergyman I killed by accident, before I realised what dark gift god had given me. My eyes stung, tears forming.

“Ameirah,” Varidian said, catching my shoulders, squeezing with warm hands. “Breathe, dearling. I’m not dead.”

“You—no, you’re not,” I realised, frowning in confusion even as relief hit my system so severely that my knees weakened. He wasn’t dead, wasn’t screaming. I hadn’t killed anyone else. “How?”

“What do you mean how?” he asked so gently, like I was a wyvernling spooked before her first flight.

“My touch kills,” I hissed, because he knew damn well— “Oh. You don’t know. That explains a lot.”

Amber eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

“Why you’re taken with me, why you seem to want me, why you’re not running for the hills to escape your murderous wife.”

“You’re right,” he replied, stepping closer, making my heart skip when he slid a warm, solid arm around my back, pulling me flush to his bare chest. I was so focused on the placement of my hands, making sure not to touch him, that it took me a moment to realise he was embracing me. “I am very taken with my murderous wife. Did you really mean to kill me?”

That bolt of offense was back. “You were the one who grabbed me! Maddening man.”

Varidian laughed. Why was he laughing?

“I killed my sister when I was seven,” I said angrily, trying to cover the thorns that cut up my throat when I spoke the words. “A gentry man was talking about my mother, and I became so worked up that my magic awoke. I always thought I’d have sunlight magic, or maybe power over fire, but god gave me the touch of death. I reached for her hand, and she screamed, and kept screaming until her heart stopped. She was four. The same happened to the clergyman who tried to help me. I killed them both, each with a single touch of my hand. I’ve worn gloves ever since, and I never— never —touch someone with bare fingers. You should be dead.”

Varidian grew more tense with every word I spoke, the languid embrace he held me in stiffening, tightening until he was hugging me fiercely. He should have been pushing me away and running. Or I supposed since this was his riad, he should have cast me out on the street.

“You really could have killed me?” he asked, something bald and genuine in his voice—no amusement, no anger, no rumbling intrigue.

“Why do you think my father was so thrilled to be rid of me? I’m a pariah, Varidian. I’m dangerous. A monster.”

“I love it when you say my name,” he groaned.

I drew back an inch to give him an incredulous stare.

“You didn’t kill me, dearling,” he said, meeting my gaze. “I’m still here, my heart still beats.”

I shook my head, struggling to accept it. It didn’t help that this whole night seemed surreal, every note of fascination in his voice and bright interest in his eyes making it seem like a dream. I would wake up any moment, dress for my wedding, and find out my husband was a cold, calculating monster like the world believed of Varidian.

He wasn’t cold or calculating; he was just utterly, unapologetically mad.

“You can kill someone with a single touch,” he mused, glancing down at the hand I’d balled at my side. “Every time?”

“Since my magic bloomed, I’ve only touched two people. They’re both dead.”

“But not in a very long time,” he murmured, eyes on my face. “Touch me again.”

I jerked away. “You really are insane.”

“It didn’t kill me the first time; it shouldn’t kill me this time, either.”

“Shouldn’t,” I hissed, pressing back into the dresser, a little annoyed on his behalf. Did he think his life meant so little he could throw it away on a gamble? “You might be several khobz short of a bakery, but I will not indulge you in this idiotic—”

He grinned and grabbed my hand, touching me with both hands, unfurling my fingers from their clenched fist with care and consideration.

“This is lunacy,” I breathed, my lungs tight as he entwined his fingers with mine, his several shades darker brown, wide and short where mine were long and slim, the callouses on his fingertips whispering over my skin like torture.

“Go on,” he said, still smiling like a fool. “Try to kill me.”

Well, if he insisted… I reached through the slit in the skirt of my takchita and grasped the ceremonial dagger usually presented to a bride by her mother or grandmother. It had been a tradition since Aleena Saber’s traitorous first husband married her at dawn in his desert town clad in cotton enchanted to be silk and rocks enchanted to be diamonds. The moment they retired to her palace bedroom in Old Morysen, he wrapped his hands around her throat and tried to suffocate the life from her body. It was only a nearby knife she’d used to open her correspondence with a Kaldic gentry that morning that saved her. She killed her traitor husband, married the noble whose letter had saved her, and the tradition had been set for brides to carry a blade on their wedding day.

I whipped that ceremonial knife from its hiding place now and pressed the sharp tip to Varidian’s throat. “Perhaps this will convince you to have some sense.”

“Doubtful,” he replied, a shadow darkening his eyes until they were smoky and sensual. Oh.

“That is not the normal response to being threatened at knifepoint, Varidian.”

He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. “It’s the most natural reaction when my wife puts a knife to my throat. Are you going to use it, dearling?” His thumb stroked the pulse in my wrist, making my heart jump and quicken.

“Aren’t you going to use your magic to control me to drop the knife?” I whispered, his reaction making my body spark with flame. I felt the slow caress of his thumb on my wrist in other places, too.

“Fuck, no,” he laughed. “Aren’t you going to use yours?”

“I thought I had,” I admitted, “but you’re too stubborn to die.”

“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” He lifted my wrist, and my hand faltered on the knife when his lips feathered over the sensitive underside. The butterflies were back with a vengeance.

I could touch him, and nothing bad happened. No screaming, no silenced heartbeats, no empty eyes. The realisation made me giddy. “You really—you feel fine? You’re not dying from a slow poison?”

“I’m fine, Ameirah,” he promised, so softly that my heart melted, too. “I feel no different than I did this morning.” He paused. “Well, I’m fucking delighted to have a wife as brave and fearsome as you, but otherwise unchanged.”

I’d never thought of myself with those words before, but I liked them.

“I’m quite tempted to give you all my weapons,” he told me, unprompted. “I like the sight of you armed.”

“Mad,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head, remembering just how close together we were. The heat of him was like a slow, sensual brush to my body.

“Dearling, my eyes are up here.”

Shit, I was staring at his chest again. But it was right there, all bronzed and sculpted and glorious.

“I know where they are,” I replied, trailing my stare very slowly up his chest. “I’ve seen your face before.”

His laugh was abrupt and loud. When my stare reached his face, he was grinning crookedly. “Do you want me to find a tunic, Ameirah?”

I rolled my eyes. “I can function quite well even with your naked chest in front of me.”

“Just not without drooling on it,” he said slyly.

“Hey!”

He flourished a single eyebrow. “You’re almost shameless in your perusal of my body.”

“You’re the one not wearing a shirt,” I protested. “And you’re my husband; I’m legally allowed to look.”

“Say that again,” he groaned.

“I’m legally allowed to look?” I asked flatly.

He released my wrist, catching me against his body before I could process his intention. “You know what I meant.”

“You’re my utterly mad husband,” I said with a breathy note I excused as exasperation. “Who needs a doctor to look at what most certainly is a head wound.”

Varidian snorted. It shouldn’t have been charming, but it was. Oh, dear. I hadn’t planned for these warm, fuzzy emotions toward my husband, and now they were here, I didn’t know what to do with them.

His hands spread across my back, like he couldn’t touch enough of me. “Are you still vexed that I want to bloody the sheets with a cut on your arm?”

“Are you still set on avoiding our wedding night?” I retorted, just as quick.

“I am.”

“Because it’s too soon to take such a step with me? Because you need more time?” I pressed, softening the edges of my voice so he’d know I wasn’t disappointed or irritated that he needed more time.

“Because it’s too soon for you,” he corrected, matching the softness of my tone.

I blinked. I was practically delivering myself to him on a silver platter, yet he thought I didn’t want him?

“So, it isn’t because you find me repulsive?” I double-checked, narrowing my eyes at his glorious face.

“Ameirah,” he said, pained. “Of course not.”

Well. That was a pretty stroke to my ego. I pressed a smile from my lips, ignoring the way it tugged at their corners. “So, in summary, you want me, but you’re dead set on avoiding that bed over there if I’m in it. And you’re so stubborn that nothing I say can change your mind?”

“That’s accurate.” But his hands flexed on my back, belying his words.

Oh, fuck it. I’d read enough romance books to know my next move.

“Alright,” I agreed mildly. “Then I won’t say anything.”

I felt the jolt of shock through his body as I reached up to lock my hands behind his neck, drawing him down into a kiss. Heat scalded the few inches between our bodies, but the kiss was tentative, gentle.

“Ameirah,” he warned. The tone sent a thrill through my body.

I blinked up at him. “Yes, husband?”

His eyes turned a whole shade darker, both desire and danger in those eyes, and the butterflies thrashed in my belly. I swayed closer, until there wasn’t a single scrap of space between us, and the heat of him almost made me moan.

“I’m going to regret asking you to call me that,” he said in a voice like gravel, his hands sweeping up and down my back, like he couldn’t decide where to settle them.

“Why would you say that, husband?” I asked, fluttering my lashes.

He groaned, ducking down to grasp me behind my thighs. The sudden touch and the unfamiliarity of it made me gasp, molten heat pouring from between my legs. Oh, I liked being held by him. I liked the possessive press of his fingertips, and I liked the way he settled me at his waist. I especially liked the hard exhale he let out when I wrapped my legs around him. The takchita had ruched up around my knees, and it felt scandalous to bare my calves. Exciting in a way I hadn’t expected.

“You,” he said, turning us away from the dresser and towards the bed, “are going to ruin me.”

The low, rumbly tone of his voice did things to me. So did the way he tossed me onto the bed, not at all gentle. Shivers swept down my body. My breath caught as he crawled onto the bed.

“Something tells me you’ll enjoy the ruination,” I breathed.

His chest expanded with a hard breath; I watched the dance of muscles just beneath his skin as he loomed over me, close but not quite touching. “Tell me you don’t want this, Ameirah. I’ll stop immediately.”

If he thought I wanted to stop now we’d finally reached the bed, he was truly mad. Though I suppose he didn’t know about all those naughty chapters in the romance books I’d read. I was happy to enlighten him, to show him what I’d learned.

I lifted my head off the mattress and brushed a kiss to the spot on his neck just beneath his ear. He shuddered, his hands dimpling the butter-soft fabric on either side of us as they flexed.

My breath caressed his ear as I breathed, “You know exactly what I want, Varidian. So keep your mouth shut and fuck me.”

My whole face burned at the words, but the effect on him was instantaneous. His whole body jerked, a groan trailing from his mouth over my skin, raising goosebumps on both of us. His hands found my hips, gripping with intensity.

His hands slid higher up my waist. My whole body sang at the touch. “Oh, you don’t want me to keep my mouth shut, menace.”

The name was a caress to my body too. I arched up against him without meaning to.

“I think you’ll enjoy what I can do with this mouth,” he added, drawing himself off my body. I fought to hide the rejection as he moved away, cold rushing into all the places we’d touched.

I jerked when his hands settled on my calves, and I realised all at once he wasn’t leaving; he was matching the ruination I threatened by ruining me right back.

I think you’ll enjoy what I can do with this mouth.

Blood rushed in my ears. I didn’t move at all as Varidian set his mouth to my heat.