CHAPTER 109: ONE HUNDRED & NINE

Valka

"Why can’t I come with you?" I ask, distress rearing under my skin.

He pulls the cloak over his head. He looks good when he dresses--not as great as when he’s naked. I only hate his clothes because he touches them when he has to leave. "You need to rest."

"I’m perfectly fine," I counter, irritated. "Take me with you."

"It’s dangerous--"

"I’m dangerous, too," I push. "I’ve trained liked you wanted. I’m faster. I’m better. I can fight--"

"I know that." He exhales, runs his fingers down his face in exasperation."It’s your scent. Anyone could smell you from miles away. It’d place an easy target on both our backs. You’re safer here--"

My lips purse. A needy sound climbs up my throat. Angry tears fill my eyes. "You’re hiding me away. You’re ashamed of me."

"What? No--"

"Then take me with you. I don’t want to stay here, alone. I ache."

"It’s only for a couple of hours--"

"Are you meeting other women? Do they mate better than I do?"

Lucien stares at me, hard. He takes off the cloak. Peels off his tunic.

I’m not mad anymore. He’s not leaving me anymore.

He crosses the distance, grips the curve of my chin hard and the anger in his eyes, the vehemence etched on his face, it arouses me. "You think I’d risk this," he growls, hand pawing my waist until we are pressed flush against each other. "for anyone else?"

He spends the next couple of hours proving to me that there’s nothing as important to him as I am. Not the war. Not the meetings. He’ll always make time for me.

My lashes flutter, eyelids heavy as he traces circles along my spine. I am sated, floating on the clouds above.

"We cannot stay here forever, Valka," he murmurs, breath ruffling my hair.

I ignore him, drifting further into that bright, fuzzy, warm place. But he won’t let me sleep. His voice brings me back. He speaks of war. He speaks of meetings. He speaks of dull, boring things. "...any recollection on what might have happened that night King Oberon died?"

My body jerks upright. "I didn’t do it."

Glittering eyes search mine. "Who did?"

"I don’t know! He was dying when I got there! I was trying to help him!" I am crying again. I feel the thick drops of blood coating my hands, but I don’t see it. I feel horrible inside. I don’t want to feel like this.

"How did you know he needed help?"

"I don’t know! Thane told me to go there!" I roll off him. I clamp my hands over my ears. "Stop talking!"

Lucien wrenches a hand off my ear. His expression is stormy. "Who’s Thane?"

"Leave me alone!"

The words from my lungs in layers, crackling around and above us in otherworldly magic, and Lucien flinches, recoiling away from me with speed like I have hurt him. Then he blinks, rebuffs it, growling at me. "Tell me."

And so, I tell him. As I speak, more fragments of missing holes in my mind begin to form. I tell him about the first time Thane had come to me, and every other moments after. How he’d been my guardian.

And then, I tell him about that night the Voss King was murdered. What I remember of it.

I dreamt of Thane. He was hunched over that dreadful musical instrument again, playing a merry tune. He told me where to go. When I awoke, I was already in the King’s chambers, not at all remembering how I’d even gotten there. I’d found the man slit from ear to ear, gurgling and choking on his blood. I’d pulled off Lucien’s necklace, feeding the blood to him in the hopes of healing him.

But he had begun to convulse instead, puking up more blood. It happened in a matter of seconds. He died, bleeding from his nose and eyes, like I had fed him poison.

And somehow, I’d dealt the killing blow without meaning to.

My voice is hoarse. My vision blurred with tears. Lucien cups my cheeks gently, forcing my gaze to his. "It wasn’t your fault. You were caught in the middle of a scheme. He was likely already poisoned with ash or silver, to ensure he didn’t heal if we fed him our blood. He would’ve died, regardless. There is nothing you could’ve done for him."

His words don’t make it feel any less heavier. I cry. I ruin everything I touch. Lucien tells me that isn’t true. He places my fingers on his skin and says, "You’re touching me just fine. I’m not ruined."

It is distracting. The ripple of perfect muscles on his torso. I climb into his lap and lock my fingers behind his neck. I lower my mouth to his roughly.

I kiss him hard. But it doesn’t take it away. That buzzing in the back of my mind that has been bothering me all day, telling me there are more important things at stake than fucking and love making.

I grab that voice of reason, shove her in a box and sit on the lid.

My fingers reach down, taking Lucien’s thick length in my fingers. He exhales sharply, fangs nipping the spot behind my ear. "No," he murmurs, but he doesn’t mean it. "It won’t go away just because you want it to--fuck, stop that," he snaps when I capture the thick rim of his tip in my fist and pump twice.

I ignore him. I don’t like it when he tells me no. I pull away and take him in my mouth.

My jaw widens because it is an impossible, tight fit. I can never take him all the way in. But I make it work. I love the beautiful veins that run down his cock. I trace them with my nails and fangs. He likes it when I nick him there. He loses track of his thoughts when I do, and his pretty lashes caress his cheeks as his eyelids shutter.

He wraps my hair around his fist. He loves my hair. He loves tugging on the strands. He loves braiding it. I don’t know why. Maybe he has a fetish. But I cannot tell what part of me he has the most fetish for. Because he dotes on every inch of me with the same reverence and possession.

Wickedly, he pushes into my throat. When I gag, his eyes flash black. It is both terrifying and beguiling. I wonder if anyone else has seen him this way. The thought doesn’t make me feel good. I want to be his only.

I take my anger out on his cock. I bite him. But it only makes him grow harder and bigger. And soon, he’s bobbing my head up and down, fucking my throat.

My thighs squeeze together, pussy clenching hard on nothing. I try to tell him I want him inside me, but my mouth is busy. And though he knows, he punishes me by refusing to give me what I need.

He claims my throat until tears leak down my cheeks. Only then, does he let me go. To lick them off, purring at the taste of them.

And then, I am trapped under that magnificent body, my legs raised high, ass arched off the bed as he pushes into me. The position is harsh, but his thrusts are slow. Tender. His eyes are even softer in a way I’ve never seen them.

No. Wait. I have seen them that way.

It happens then. Like a book that has been clamped shut for an eternity, a different part of my mind... gives.

And I’m in a memory.