CHAPTER 15: FIFTEEN

"Again!"

I leap off the raft, grabbing onto the steel rail and with a tired exhale, I swing back and hurl myself onto the next rail. And the next. And the next.

My mind slips away from the men gathered below the gauntlet, watching me like I am animal on exhibition, and for a moment, I slip back into my nightmare.

Violet eyes with gold hints narrow at me.

My grip falters and I fall.

The mat smacks my back, knocks the air from my lungs. For a long moment, I just lie there, staring up at the rails like they might fall and crush me too.

I’ve been seeing him everywhere.

A hint of silken silver hair here and there. Black robes in the dark. A deep seductive laugh that creeps under my skin and leaves me restless. The kiss of his teeth in my skin and the pain that tears me from the reoccurring night mare.

Nine consecutive days, I’ve dreamt of him. Of dying. When I sacrificed my nights, sneaking into the training hall to beat the bags so hard, I could barely stand, he began slipping into my daydreams, as well.

I’m losing my mind, my patience, my strength. Even now, if I listened carefully, I can almost hear the slow thudthudthud of his heart and the strumming of fingers against gold...

A hand enters my vision. I blink, eyes focusing on Rafe. Against my better judgement, I let him pull me up. His grip is warm, too warm, and I ignore the treacherous heat sparking through me.

"You went farther today," he says evenly, tossing me a towel. "But you’re distracted. Sloppy."

"Sorry," I mumble half-heartedly. My eyes are heavy, my vision doubling. My limbs feel like lead and my head has an unbearable weight sitting right on it.

When last did I sleep? Five days ago?

"So, who is it?"

I blink away the tiredness, wondering if I missed a large part of the conversation. "Sorry?"

Prince Rafe falls into step beside me as we walk past the battlements. I get a few waves from the new recruits and I catch Bryn’s friendly salute as we make for the tower. "There are only a handful of things that gets a man in a mood. A new bairn, someone pissed in his wine, and a lass. You look too young to have hit a score on the first one and you do not have the smell of alcohol on you. So, I wager the last."

"I turn nineteen in a fortnight..." I trail off because that’s when I notice. The strange, unsettling nearness. He’s walking beside me. Not trying to jostle me. Or insult me. He’s just...here, talking to me like we’re thick as thieves. Close. Too close.

By the time his shoulder brushes mine, I’ve already shoved him back, harder than intended and my skull throbs with the effort. "What is your problem? Why are you following me?"

And by the gods, what is that smell? It’s wafting off him and it’s making me so hungry.

He doesn’t answer until we’ve passed the tower’s ruined archway. Then he stops. Turns. His eyes flick away, his jaw clenched. "I thought..." He clears his throat. "I thought I should apologize. For the past week."

"Oh, which part?" I laugh bitterly. "Forgetting about the endless morning drill you placed me on before sneaking off with your girlfriend? You left me in the rain for six hours!" I yell, earning a few stares from shocked soldiers nearby. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you broke my arm during combat, for no reason!"

His gaze drops briefly to the arm in question. "It looks just fine to me."

My blood roars. I step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I am tired of this. Tired of you picking at me, breaking me down just to prove I don’t belong. Even if I take everything you throw at me and work harder than anyone else. I didn’t ask to be born Omega. I didn’t ask to be half your size. I’m sick of you grinding me into the dirt to soothe your bruised ego. If this is your idea of an apology, keep it. I don’t want you around me, either. We are not friends. We are not acquainted. Get out of my face."

For once, Prince Rafe looks stunned. His grey eyes widen as though I’ve struck him. Good. I hope he dies from the shock of it.

I turn for the stairs, limping, when his hand clamps on my wrist.

"I defied my father to keep you alive."

The words land like stones. I glance back, startled. His hand drops immediately. His expression is raw, unguarded in a way I’ve never seen.

"When news of you reached him," he continues quietly, "The order was simple. Execute you. Whether you were guilty or not or you were what we suspected you to be. You were to be killed that morning."

Cold floods my veins. "...what?"

"I bargained." His fists clench at his side. "Offered you a place in my elite instead to stave off that order and convince him that you wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t know why. Maybe because you saved my life. Maybe because..."

He exhales, jaw tight. "It was the last thing I wanted. Maybe because I cannot seem to stop seeking you out."

Huh?

My throat tightens. "Rafe, I don’t--I--" My voice cracks off. "Why?"

He looks at me as if the answer is a terrible thing to confess. "Because you annoy me." His mouth quirks in an attempt at levity that does not land. Then he strips away the half-smile. "I thought if I belittled you and constantly reminded myself of who you were, it’d ease whatever this is. But it hasn’t. It’s worse. I am drawn to you in ways that make no sense. In ways that make me feel--" His voice roughens. "Unwell."

I stumble back a step, shaking my head. "I don’t understand. You have Astrea. And I’m--" A frantic breath steals into my lungs. "I’m a man."

Oh, gods. If only he knew. Oh, this is bad. Isn’t it?

"You think I don’t know that?"

The bite in his voice startles me. But what makes my stomach drop is the way his eyes flicker. Down. To my mouth.

"I can’t..." His hand fists at his side, shaking slightly. "...stop thinking about kissing you."

Silence slams down between us as the terrible disclosure sinks in. My heart stutters and I stumble back, only to have the wall press against my spine. The Prince follows, as if possessed by a force greater than both of us.

"We cannot," I whisper.

"No," he rasps. "No, we can’t."

But he’s closing in and I realize he’s going to do it. Right here. By the entrance of the tower where the rest of the men will pass through once they are done with their drills in a couple of minutes.

Something tightens low in my belly. It is like dread, but it is also a strange assortment of excitement. My heart begins racing, too fast, and I do not get enough air.

Perhaps, that is why the very second before I receive my first kiss from the most handsome man in Silvermoor, my legs weaken and my vision blackens.

And I pass out.