Page 33 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Twenty-three

Elowen

I trace my thumb over my ring.

Asterin’s ring.

Nothing he has ever bought me could mean so much. My heart feels like it’ll burst out of my chest as I make a silent vow to Cayden’s mother, promising that I’ll keep both this ring and her son safe.

My shoulders loosen as the long road bordered by a wintery forest littered with frozen streams ends, and Veles Manor stands in all its glory.

The dark wood and stones that create the exterior are bathed in moonlight, and the stained-glass windows are illuminated by flickering candlelight within.

Sharp turrets spear the night, topped with dragon statues that match the ones atop the fountain at the center of the circle before the main entrance, fashioned to look like all five taking flight with their tails wrapped around a pair of crossed swords.

That fountain has been there since before we were betrothed, I realize.

The statues atop the turrets are new, but somehow, I’ve always existed here even before we met.

“Why did you have that made?” I ask as his hands bracket my hips and he helps me down from the horse. “It resembles our sigil, but I remember it being there when I first came here.”

“It served as a reminder,” he says, drawing my eyes back to his. “That you were somewhere in the world, and I would not tolerate a reality where I didn’t find you. I also perceived the dragons to be a symbol of Garrick’s weakness. Brave men don’t chain things they have the courage to face or tame.”

He nods to the stable hand who takes the reins, but I continue looking up at him as the stars shine enough to emphasize the harsh lines of his face. His anger is like the sea; its power is evident even when it seems dormant, and once a storm comes, only he decides when the destruction will cease.

“Are you sure the Imirath throne is what you want?” he asks.

Claiming the Imirath throne isn’t a matter of want, it’s a matter of how far I’m willing to go to protect myself and the ones I love, and that is limitless.

“My life has been a series of men putting me in cages or keeping me in the dark. They will have only themselves to blame when I burn their world to the ground and build a new one upon the ashes. Our enemies have ensured that peace will never be an option, so we must make them realize that all the years they’ve lived have been a mercy from us when we come to end their existence. ”

“You were never able to live in their world, and for that they will die in ours. I will not stop fighting until everyone who abused you is dead,” he says, green eyes simmering with intensity.

“Garrick will not survive the hell we unleash upon him, nor will anyone who stands with him.” His fingers wrap around the back of my neck and I’m unable to look anywhere but at him.

“I’m with you, Elowen. This is not another task you must accomplish on your own.

Unload all your worries onto me so you don’t have to bear the weight of them alone. ”

I hold on to the steadiness his presence offers, honing it like a blade and sheathing it on my thigh. The Imirath throne belongs to me, and I will claim it with my father’s enemy at my side and dragons flying above.

Light pours down the front steps like spilled water as a servant opens the main entrance, but I latch my hand on Cayden’s arm as he tries to step toward it.

Rising to the tips of my toes, I press my lips on his scarred cheek, needing him to know that I see him, all of him, and I’m not leaving.

His pupils dilate as he scans his eyes along my features, and my yelp bounces off the walls as he slides an arm beneath my knees and around my back and hoists me in his arms.

“Did you know my legs work? Because it seems you forget quite often.”

“I’m exercising my husbandly privileges.” I wave at the servant as we enter, and the warmth feels sublime after several hours of flying. “Carrying my wife over the threshold of our home.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not my husband.”

He shrugs, and I know he’s doing this to move on from the topic of his past, but I’ll go along with it if this is what he needs. “Semantics, Lady Veles.”

I wonder what it would be like to be a lady, not a queen. “Until I have a ring on my finger so large and heavy it makes me lopsided, we are not married.”

“Royals,” he mutters, and I smack him on the back of the head.

The entryway seating area is bathed in the shades of our house colors, with a golden replica of our sigil hanging above the wide fireplace made of stones that match the exterior of the home.

He snickers in response and carries me down the hall.

An ornate blue rug runs the length of it, and the walls are lined in a mixture of the same stones and dark wood, illuminated by gold sconces.

Every room we pass is tasteful and elegant but still feels like home.

When I first came here it was filled with only dark shades: brown leather; emerald, blue, and red ornate rugs with hints of black…

but as he slows his steps, I notice lighter shades that have never been here before shining through new paintings of spring meadows, walls showcasing murals of twisting vines and starry skies, new rugs that now include hues of lavender and sage, and several vases of flowers at the center of a sitting room, on the dining table, and nestled by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Even the wood is carved to reflect the smallest hints of delicate decadence.

My heart swells as Cayden carries me up the curved double staircase, and I reach my hand out to caress the divots in the railing. We bypass several closed doors with the same amount of detail as the rest of the house, and he sets me on my feet to unlock an especially stunning one.

My hand smothers a gasp as the door swings open, and I step into another sitting room filled with more dark wood furniture upholstered in our house colors arranged around a double-sided fireplace.

A scene of five dragons flying above a mountain range hangs above it, with Ryder’s signature in the corner.

Rich curtains with a lace overlay and golden tassels are pulled back on either side of a bay window to reveal a tea set with several books stacked on the tray.

I kick off my boots and walk through the archway that leads to the bedchamber, and moisture gathers in my eyes when I look up and see a replica of the night sky painted on the dome ceiling.

My chest rises and falls unevenly at the sight of…

home. I’ve been homesick for a place I didn’t know existed.

I don’t realize any tears have escaped until Cayden steps up beside me and gently rubs his knuckle against my cheek. “When did you have time to do all of this?”

“When I couldn’t sleep at night.” My breath wooshes from me, not anticipating the relief I’d feel at the evidence of where he was. “Where did you think I was?” I don’t want to answer, but he must notice something on my face because his shoulders drop. “Elowen.”

I shake my head and step farther into the room. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Yes, I do.” His hand clasps around my wrist and he takes a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed, wrapping his arm around my waist to keep me between his legs. “Ever since we met have you so much as seen me look at another woman?”

“I’ve seen them look at you,” I answer, hating how my insecurity sharpens my tone. “I think some may have swooned while you were fighting.”

“Every man with a pair of eyes looks at you,” he answers flatly.

“Only the ones with good taste.” I’ve never cared enough about anyone to feel this way, but the thought of Cayden being with anyone other than me makes my stomach twist painfully and violence pump through my veins.

“I’ve never needed a ring to be loyal to you. You occupy every corner of my mind to the point that I can’t even think about the possibility of another woman. You are all I want, and I’d be a goddamn fool to forsake the greatest thing in my life.”

I look down at his lap, but he’s so close there’s no way for me to truly hide my growing smile. He grasps my chin to bring my eyes back to his.

“Allow me to make myself very clear. There will never be another for either of us, understand? I conquered a kingdom to have you, and my feelings will never change.”

“Understood.”

He rises from the bench and leads me to the bathing chamber where a giant tub sits in the center of the room and snow gently pelts the three arched windows that overlook the lake where my dragons rest.

“I’ll get you something to change into,” he says, kissing my forehead before departing. I press a hand over my chest once he’s gone as I spin in place, taking it all in. If I told myself a year ago that this was where I’d be, I never would’ve believed it.

I turn the knobs on the tub before stripping out of my clothes and jumping into the bath, lathering myself with soap and dipping under the water.

Bubbles float atop the surface and I drag my fingers through them while watching my dragons through the foggy glass.

I hear Cayden return to hang the clothes on a hook, but he leaves me be.

My fingertips resemble raisins by the time I finish, and I let out a pleased sigh while scrunching the water from my curls.

The light blue night slip is so soft that it feels like a caress.

“Is there anything you haven’t thought of?” I ask, taking a seat on the mattress that must be stuffed with clouds.

“No.” Cayden turns away from the window, his eyes darkening as they scan me from head to toe.

I wonder if he’s dreamed of having me in his bed.

My breathing deepens as he slowly walks toward me, not hiding the desire and lust pouring off him, filling every crevice and corner of the room.

“Because I know what you need.” He takes my hips in his hands, and my head presses into the pillows as I lean back, but he keeps coming closer until he’s hovering a breath away from my lips, his biceps bulging against his shirtsleeves.

“And I love being the one to give it to you.”

He’s gone in the next breath, leaving me flustered and needy as he disappears into the bathing chamber.

I press my hands into my warm cheeks and thrust myself out of bed to find a spare piece of parchment to quickly pen a letter to Finnian so he doesn’t worry.

I went to check on him this morning, but he was already out on a ride with Ryder.

“Cayden?” I call out.

“Yes, angel.”

“Can we stay here? Not just tonight.” The castle is lovely…but it’s not mine. Ailliard’s ghost haunts me around every corner as do my memories of the Imirath castle.

“This is your home. You don’t have to ask me that.”

My eyes briefly shut as relief washes over me, and I soak in the details of the room all over again when I open them. It’s perfect. I finish writing my letter to Finnian before digging around the desk for the seal with our sigil.

Cayden’s body presses into mine from behind as I’m straightening up, and my pulse pounds throughout every inch of me. I feel the warmth of his bare chest through the thin night slip, and the loose pants he wears do nothing to hide the bulge contained within. “For Finnian, I’m assuming?”

The deep rumble of his voice sends sparks shooting through me. “Mhmm.”

“I’ll take it downstairs for you.” He pulls the now slightly crumpled letter from between my fingers and strides from the room. I douse the lanterns and climb back into bed, sighing as my sore and tired body finds reprieve. Gods, even the sheets smell like him.

“No line of pillows this time?” he asks when he returns, removing a dagger from the drawer of his nightstand and setting it on top.

“It’s entirely unnecessary. I’ve grown used to your hulking presence.”

He flexes his muscles, smirking at me as he reclines and tucks an arm beneath his head.

I turn away from him to hide my face, settling into the pillows and pulling the plush covers up to my chin.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and the urge to turn back to him is so strong it’s pulling me like the undertow of the sea.

I shut my eyes, trying to let sleep welcome me, but it’s not darkness behind my lids. It’s Cayden at different ages in his life, facing horrid things at the hands of our fathers. I don’t care if the world thinks he’s a demon. He’s been better to me than they ever were.

I abruptly spin around, locking my arm around his torso and twining our legs together.

He doesn’t say anything as his hands come around me, one settling on my back and the other gliding through my hair.

I rest my ear over his heart, taking comfort in the steady beating that so many have tried to silence, letting it lull me to sleep like a lullaby that was never sung to me.

“Goodnight, demon.”

His lips press against my forehead. “Goodnight, mia sirantia.”