Chapter 22

T he announcement of Torin Blacksteel challenging his father for commandership had made its way through Huntswood, and more and more people were turning up at the Tower. Gossip and whispers always did seem to end up all over the city faster than the feathers of a plucked chicken in a winter wind. But as the midnight chime came from the grandfather clock, Breighly Baxgroll noticed that Emara had still not returned from the commander's office where she had disappeared hours ago.

Breighly had been standing since dawn, unwilling to leave Emara's side, and her feet were burning in her new boots, rubbing in ways she'd thought only fashionable shoes did. Her back was aching, her legs were stiff, and she was kind of pissed that she was missing all the food that had been cooked in Torin's honour.

Her stomach betrayed her and let out an awful grumble.

It was a great start to being a guard of one of the most powerful witches in the kingdom, an honour that her body should fucking acknowledge instead of fighting against. How ungrateful did her human form need to be?

She had only just gotten over the embarrassment of Emara finding her in the bed of her own room with Artem Stryker, so she wasn't ready to let her guard down again, not when Emara had put her neck on the line for her to be here.

She would wait on post, even if her stomach was eating itself inside out.

A wolf and hunger never did any favours for humanity.

Maybe she should knock on the door? Check in? Make sure everything was okay?

If she wasn't going to leave this post until she knew Emara was okay, she should check in. Her boot kicked off the wall, springing her up and into action as she started her way down the corridor.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep, silken voice said from the hallway that connected to hers.

Breighly swivelled, and a scent of baked oranges and summer rain hit her face.

An inked warrior of Thorin stood at the other side of the corridor.

Artem Stryker.

She folded her arms, too grouchy to be interrupted. "And why would I listen to you?"

The last time he had whispered instructions to her, he had been ripping her clothes off. After that, his skin had been on hers, pounding and relentless. The biting, the licking, the feral kissing…

A heat flashed deep in her core at the images of his body on hers.

Shit!

She had to forget all of that. It was normally easy to forget the relations she had, but for whatever reasons the Gods had, her thoughts seemed to linger of Artem Stryker.

Fuck, he'd absolutely love that if he knew.

Artem sauntered down the corridor, his large presence invading the dim lighting. "You should listen to me because I have more than enough knowledge of what is likely to be happening in that room, and Torin wouldn't be happy if he was interrupted whilst making love. "

Breighly scoffed. "What have I told you about making ridiculous remarks? Making love is a horrendous term. You need to behave yourself."

He grinned wider than before. "You need to stop pretending you hate the words making love ."

She gave off a fake shiver. "Revolting."

He ran his teeth over his lip, trying to keep his smile tamed. His dark golden eyes glanced at the floor before finding her eyes again. "I brought you this." He handed her a bread roll with chocolate spread that she hadn't noticed was in his hand. How did she miss that? "I could hear your stomach rumbling over the music downstairs and it got annoying after a while."

She laughed and swiped it from his hand. "Hunters don't have that good of hearing, don't kid yourself."

Her teeth ripped into the warm bread, and a moan almost escaped her lips as the chocolate melted in her mouth.

Artem bit back a grin. "You are welcome, cranky pants."

Her eyes darted to his face. "You do realise that I have my own weapon belt now, right? And I would be a total liar to say that my palm isn't twitching to try some of my new steel on your flesh." She gave off a small growl laced with a smile. "Don't mock a hungry wolf, idiot."

His eyes flashed full of dangerous desire as if her words only excited him instead of warding him off. But the casual grin spread across his mouth faded. "I wanted to find you before the celebrations started so that I could say I was sorry, but I kind of got caught up in it." His thin nose flared, allowing the fiery torches in the corridor to flicker down on the dainty silver circle in his nose. It glinted like a star, and she cursed herself at how much distraction a little silver hoop caused her.

Breighly cleared her throat, swallowing down the last of her bread. "What for?"

He placed his hands behind his back and his lashes swept down. "For putting you in a position where you could have lost your guardianship before it even fully began."

Something punched in her chest.

Okay, this conversation was actually happening.

Instead of showing that she was surprised, she rolled her eyes. "It takes two to dance in the bedroom, Artem. I am as much to blame as you."

"I know." He closed in again, and she could feel the heat between them already. The thick, warm, magnetic heat. "But I wanted to let you know I respect you more than that."

Her heart banged in her chest.

She shut it down.

Why was that little shit doing that?

He spoke again. "I just wanted to let you know that I am sorry for that."

"You don't need to say you're sorry for having sex with me—unless you are." She looked at the door Emara had disappeared behind, wishing she could do the same right now.

She wanted to hide from this conversation. Maybe Torin's reaction wouldn't be as bad as Artem said.

"Of course I am not sorry—"

Breighly snapped her head back towards him. "Then let's leave it there."

Artem pressed a shoulder to the wall. "You don't have to cut me off."

"And you don't have to give me a limp-ass apology because you feel guilty that I get looked at differently for having sex because I am a woman."

Emara hadn't really cared about the two of them giving in to temptation, but if someone else had found her in that compromising position, everything could have been different.

"Men get away with giving into their desires all the time, but if a woman does it, she is unprofessional. Not fit for the role. A whore."

"I—"

"Don't even try to defend that," Breighly snapped, feeling the hunger in her belly turn into fire.

He uncrossed his arms. "If you would let me speak for one second, you would understand that I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

A little laugh huffed out from the most broken part of her. "So now you want to empathise with me? You feel guilty because I was caught with you like I am some kind of victim. Like I didn't choose that for myself. You didn't put me in that position, Artem. I put myself there. I allowed myself to be under you to distract myself from how numb I feel."

The words were out her mouth like vomit, and there was no way that she could take them back. She bit back a flinch.

Hurt darkened Artem's eyes, and it was the first time she had seen a vulnerable reaction loiter over his face. He had always been the joker, the jester, and now he was a warrior, standing in front of her with hurt turning into rage in his eyes.

"I am a distraction?" He let out a callous laugh.

She hadn't meant it like that. She knew she had crossed the line the minute her stupid mouth had spilled her guts, but it was too late to put her unkind words back inside the terrible box in her mind.

"I am just a distraction to you?" he repeated when she said nothing.

This was what always happened when Breighly felt insecure; she would push people out. Maybe she hadn't realised how insecure she felt standing next to the warriors of Thorin, but she had a lot to live up to. She wasn't a hunter, she was a wolf; Aerrick Stryker had made that very clear in his examination of her.

"I didn't mean it like that," she tried to claw back her words.

"You did." Artem's chin rose and his full lips parted. "And that's okay. I get that you are a woman in control of your own destiny, a wolf who is fiercer than any warrior I have come across a guard who is the first of her kind. I understand that you have a lot at stake and this is your chance to prove how worthy you are, not just for yourself but for all women. But you need to understand that I am not trying to change any of that for you."

She had no answer.

She always had an answer. His calming energy was incredible to balance out her rage, and she wondered if that was a little hunter tactic to get her back on side. After all, it was part of their training.

Artem's lips parted. "I get it. You are emotionally unavailable. You don't want a relationship."

"Relationship?" Breighly snorted as her eyes widened. "This is not a relationship, by the Gods."

"You know what I mean." Artem's voice was a little deeper than before, darker. The warrior in his eyes killed out the witticism and let the danger shine through.

It stirred something in her.

"We have to work together," he said, his hip rising from the wall. "Professionally. Whether we like it or not."

"Professionally," she repeated. "Even if it could be torturous."

He grinned, finally chasing the shadows in his eyes away. "That's not what I said."

"I know." She gave a feral grin back. "That's what I said."

Artem huffed a little. "If you can't handle what lies between us, sassy pants, that's on you."

She almost choked. "You know as well as I do that I can handle anything you throw at me." She crossed the distance between them and looked up into his eyes.

His jaw clenched as she pressed her chest against his. "That's a little hard to believe when you can't even handle how you feel when you're around me."

Her throat tightened at his truth. "One-night stands are not meant to follow you into a new moon."

His eyes narrowed as he stepped towards her. "We've had more than one night of fun, you and I."

She always underestimated the size of him. His huge body made her feel safe in this moment. She swallowed the thoughts of them both writhing together, feeling pleasure that she had never felt before, and dismissed thoughts of his mouth around the sensitive nerves between her legs.

He stuck out his hand, and it saved her from giving in to the sweet memories of their past. Again.

"What are you doing?" she asked, screwing up her face.

"Striking a truce…in the love making ." His hand remained out, a boyish grin on his lips. "That's what you want, right?"

"Are you not embarrassed by your choice of words? Like…ever?" She grinned back.

"Nope."

"A truce?" She lifted an eyebrow.

He nodded, his lips thinning. "Shake my hand and we call it over."

She swallowed and placed her hand into his, his skin covered by a red rose of winter. Suddenly feeling like she was doing something the Gods didn't approve of, her heart dropped. "This thing between us…it's over. No more fucking."

"Over. No more loving, " he repeated, gripping her hand and shaking slowly. "Strictly professional. We are just two normal guards. Two very sexy, normal guards."

If it were over, why did his touch feel like a warm charge of energy brushing over her skin?

She hid a grin of her own.

"It's done," she agreed.

And just as a spark of something she didn't understand ignited in her heart, the door to the commander's office opened, revealing the new commander and the Empress of Air.