Chapter 10

Rage flares in me, at my own selfish actions, threatening to burn out of me, the scorpion inside restless. Ali's soft body presses against mine, her intoxicating scent filling my nostrils.

She isn't fighting me, not now, and it isn't because she's decided to be mine, but because she hurt herself running from me.

I hate this. I hate myself for pushing her, for pushing and pushing when I vowed I would wait. That I would let her come to me.

She lets out a little whimper. Starlamps flare along the cobbled path to Idiene Fieldhouse. Gingerly, I transfer her weight to one arm, opening the door and swinging it wide.

Startled, Danielle and Dabin jerk up from where they were curled around each other near the blazing hearth.

"What happened?" Danielle immediately rises, alarm pinching her face.

"Rolled my ankle," Ali mutters, pressing her face into my chest. "It's fine." Her words are muffled against my shirt. She's embarrassed. Regret fills me. I should have brought her straight back here, instead of to that clearing. But I was selfish, and pushy, as usual, and now she's hurt because of me.

Again.

"Is she drunk?" Dabin's brows pinch together, an accusation clear in his tone.

"No. Not really, not as much as I was. Tipsy still, maybe. It's my fault," Ali offers, obviously picking up Dabin's annoyance. "I didn't realize it was that strong. The beer, I mean. My ankles suck. It'll be fine. He's just an overbearing worrywart. A real pest, if you catch my drift." She winks slowly at Danielle. "Get it? A pest? Because he's a bug sometimes?"

I let loose a long-suffering sigh.

Danielle's cheeks suddenly suck in, like she's holding in a laugh. "That cream we have should work on it. Do you want me to get it?"

"I'll take care of her." The words come out more harshly than I intended. "No one is touching Ali but me."

"God, you're so possessive. It's ridiculous." Ali shifts in my arms. "He was going to beat Brock up for walking me to the murder horse."

"Murder horse?" Dabin also appears to be fighting laughter, one hand stroking down the side of the curled horns on his head.

"Yeah, my murder pony. Molmith. Brock took me there so I could feed him an apple, and then Lesath showed up and wanted to pound his face in."

"I did not pound his face in. And he was trying to kiss you!"

"See?" She points up at me. "Totally jealous."

"I'll, uh," Danielle's gaze darts between Ali in my arms and my face. "I'll just go get that cream and put it in your room. The other girls are resting, and Lesath, I thought you could sleep with Kaus?—"

"No. I'm sleeping with her." My jaw clenches, and I tighten my grip on my mate. Has there ever been anything that's felt better than this woman in my arms?

Danielle's mouth drops open.

"We are so not sleeping together," Ali says. "Like is he hot? Yes. Would I normally ride that train to O-town? Yes. But no. Also no."

"You said that out loud again," I tell her.

"Shut up," she says. "We're not sleeping together, but we are sleeping together, because I swore an unbreakable oath?—"

"You made her swear to have sex with you?" Dabin's expression turns to one of outrage. "Lesath, that is not how it is done."

Fire coats Danielle's hands, a sign of her own anger, and I step back.

"No, stop it." Ali waves a hand in irritation, and Dabin's eyebrows shoot up. "He didn't mean like that. I had to swear to sleep next to him on our journey. See, the thing is, I was planning to run away, but he figured out how to keep me from doing that, or so he thinks." She raises one finger, as if she's just made an excellent point.

"Shit," she says, wilting against me. "Fine. Okay. After the vampires, I kind of had to rethink that strategy anyway. Sorry for lying to you. Or omitting that fact."

I already knew she planned to run, but it doesn't seem prudent to admit that, at the moment.

"Okay," Danielle says slowly. "You two are a mess." She shakes her head as she leaves the room.

"Same room as always?" I ask Dabin. All I can think about is tending to Ali, to making her as comfortable and safe as possible.

"Same one."

There's nothing else to say, or at least, I don't trust either Ali or I to say anything else helpful to Dabin at the moment. I carry her up the stairs and down the hall. Idiene Fieldhouse lacks the grandeur and size of my castle in Ulson, but it easily houses up to a dozen adults. It's been at least a hundred years since I last stayed here, when Dabin's father still lived and we trained together with Ras and the other Starbound warriors. Memories rush through me, the sound of Ras laughing as Kaus told joke after joke, the scent of campfire and the pleasant ache of overworked muscles.

I've lost so much time.

What has happened to me? To the people we used to be?

"You're hurting me." Ali's voice is tight.

"I'm sorry, little one," I murmur, loosening my grip on her. "It is strange being back here."

"What do you mean?"

I glance down at her, so beautiful in my arms, and my feet falter slightly before I continue. Blue eyes blink up at me, wide and innocent, her previous anger melted away like frost in spring. It's the first time she's asked about me.

"When I was younger, much younger, this is where we were sent to train. With House Capricorn. The scions of the great Houses were sent here to learn the art of war, to learn to work together."

"Cause of the vampires." She nods, her eyes half-closed.

"No, this was before then. It was tradition."

"Oh. Did you fight a lot of bad guys, then?" Her cheek rubs against my shoulder, and her mouth gapes wide as she yawns.

"There were threats, always. No wars in my youth though, it was peaceful. Our parents, Dabin's especially, told tall tales of dragons and giants. They also spoke of invaders from other worlds, through the gates that brought the blood drinkers. We all thought they were stories, at least those about the dragons…" But maybe they weren't. I frown, pondering it.

"And then the vampires came," Ali continues. Her hand wraps around my neck, the gesture so thoughtless and trusting that it takes my breath away. We fall into silence, Ali's eyes wide as she takes in the portraits on the wall, the Starlamps lighting our way down the long hall.

"Can you open the door?" We've stopped in front of the room that was mine a lifetime ago, for three months out of every summer.

"Why? Are your arms getting tired?"

"No. I don't want to risk hurting your foot by moving you."

"Oh." She looks up at me again, a strange expression on her face, then reaches out and turns the knob.

"Oh," she breathes out again, taking in her new surroundings. I kick the door closed behind her. "Wow, this is so homey. Cozy. It's totally different from Ulson."

I set her down gently on the bed, then glance around, trying to see the room through her eyes. She's not wrong— it's incredibly different from Ulson.

Blue drapes frame large windows, wood beams crossing the white plaster ceiling. Heavy wood furniture is scattered in pleasing arrangements around the room, a fire burning in a stone fireplace opposite the large four-poster bed. More blue drapes hang from the ceiling around it, providing warmth in the colder months and quiet throughout the year when they're drawn.

"Enjoy the bed tonight," I tell her. "It will be a good while before we sleep in one again."

I set her down as gently as I can, taking special care not to jostle her hurt leg.

"Thank you." Her eyes don't leave mine, the delicate column of her throat bobbing. It's the second time I've heard those words from her, and I want to keep pleasing her, keep hearing them.

"Let me make you more comfortable." I lean over her, arranging the pillows behind her back, propping her up. "Do you want tea? Water? More beer."

"No more beer," she groans, her eyes fluttering shut. "No more beer."

"Got it. No more beer."

"Definitely no more beer," Danielle says, bustling through the door, her long dark hair swinging over her shoulder. "Here's that ointment. It'll help the pain and swelling, and tomorrow we can wrap it and put more on."

"It's really not that bad," Ali protests, scooting upright and twisting her leg to see her ankle, which is covered in a boot.

"I'll take care of you."

"Riiiiight," Danielle says, backing out of the room, her hands held up. "That's my cue to leave."

"That's not what he meant—" Ali's mouth snaps shut as the door snicks shut behind Danielle. She groans, her head falling against the pillows. "Damn it, Lesath. Now everyone is going to think we're sleeping together."

"We are sleeping together."

"Ugh! You know what I mean."

I bend over her, bracing my hands on either side of her body, drinking in her sleepy face, her mouth screwed up in irritation. "I know what you mean."

She stops moving, blinking up at me. "Right. Of course you do."

I stay there for a moment, fighting the urge to kiss her, to see if her mouth tastes as sweet as it looks.

"Let's get your shoes off."

"Lesath, don't. I can do it."

"So can I." I furrow my brow. "Relax and allow me to help you."

"Fine," she says, wiggling back into the pillows and closing her eyes. "Help away."

Shaking my head, I fight a smile at her reluctant acquiescence, planning to take the boot off her uninjured foot first. I can't take my eyes from her, hardly daring to move for fear of ruining this moment. Before dinner, she changed from her traveling clothes to a simple gray dress that sets off the blue of her eyes and the silvery blonde of her hair.

My hand trembles as I reach for the hem, the soft fabric snagging against the coarse callus-covered skin of my hand. Slowly, I tug it back, revealing the top of her boot and a smooth expanse of leg. Her calf curves into a relaxed knee, the soft skin of her thighs begging to be touched, begging for my hands to pull them apart and explore the rest of her body.

I swallow hard, desire riding me furiously. My cock tightens against my pants, and I close my eyes, fighting for control.

Finally, I trust myself enough to tug the boot from her uninjured leg, then her sock.

On the bed, Ali sighs as the cold air hits her toes, wiggling them.

I turn my attention to her other leg, pulling the dress up until both of her legs are bared to me, the dress concealing the part of her that I try my best to ignore, only succeeding in pushing my desire higher, imagining what she'll feel like moving against my mouth, her fingers curling against my scalp as I bring her to the heights of pleasure.

I pause, raking a hand through my hair.

"I promise it's okay, Lesath. If you're that worried about hurting me, I can take it off."

"No," I rasp out, the word low and husky. Her eyes widen slightly, her lips parted.

She doesn't speak, and I think that's for the best.

I slowly tug the boot off, taking my time to work it gently over her tender ankle. The sock follows, and all desire rushes from me as I inspect her swollen foot.

"It shouldn't hold you back tomorrow, though it may be sore." Moving slowly, so as not to startle her, I put the boots by the door, then find the freshly mixed ointment Danielle left on a dresser. I open it, and it smells of citrus and herbs, of my years training here, bringing back another rush of memories.

"Does it smell bad?" she asks, watching me carefully, now propped up on her elbows.

"Not at all."

"You made a weird face. Weirder than usual, that is."

I grin at her. "Do not try to backtrack now. You already told me how handsome you think I am."

"That doesn't count," she grouses. "That was under drunken duress."

"It counts," I assure her, sitting carefully on the bed, placing her foot in my lap. Her slender ankle is swollen, and slightly bruised, though not the sickly black and blue that would signify a broken bone or ruined tendon. "I was remembering my training here. We used this ointment often. Most nights, in fact."

"What was that like?"

I consider her for a moment, searching through the memories, fogged with time and, I assume, the time I spent too long in my scorpion form. The firelight casts a warm glow across her skin, making her more radiant than ever.

I've never seen her in firelight, only in stolen snatches throughout the day at Ulson, and now, in the moonlight.

She's stunning no matter what, but I think I like her best like this, relaxed, in bed, and lit with the golden glow of the hearth. My crotch tightens uncomfortably, and I clear my throat.

"Training," I say, scooping out a large blob of ointment. Yes. Best to think about training. Get my mind off of her curvy body, her sensuous lips and enticing eyes. Off the hidden piece of her, her dress draped there to give her a modicum of privacy. That's all that separates her from me. A slip of fabric that I could pull aside, allowing me to bring her pleasure the likes of which she's never known.

"Training," Ali repeats, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah."

"Training."

"Are you okay?"

The blob of ointment slides partially onto her leg, and she jolts as the chill of it hits her skin.

"Yes. Sorry. I just don't want to hurt you."

"Then distract me with a story. Lana and Mina would always distract me like that when we were growing up. If I had a splinter, they'd tell me a story and yank it out when I least expected it."

"A story…" I try to hide how much it means to me, that she's sharing this about herself. Cautiously, I gently rub the ointment into her skin. "Kaus was always pulling pranks. He didn't care if he got caught, either, and we always joked that it was because either way, he was getting attention." I stroke the lotion, making my rough hands as tender as they've ever been.

Ali makes a small noise, and my gaze slips from her leg to her face. Eyes closed, her lips softly parted.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, that feels good." It's a breathy whisper, and my entire body tightens.

Stars above and below.

"Dabin was always the level-headed one among us, Ras exuberant and ready to laugh or charge into a fight at a moment's notice. Castor, who you haven't met yet, of House Gemini, was the cleverest of us all. He might get trounced in training one day, only to come back the next and be the best of us all. Castor was never one to count out. He's well placed in Kirdiff, now."

My hands keep slicking the lotion along her leg, and I deepen the pressure slightly, aiming to help relieve some of the tension in her calf. When she moans again, further relaxing, I tense.

Then her lips clamp closed, and I force myself to relax, moving gingerly past her ankle and to her foot.

"Castor has blood drinker contacts."

This pulls her attention completely, and her lips are thin. "The vampires?"

"He uses them for information. He'll know why they had the women, if they're planning something."

"He's a spy."

"Well, I already know why. Lyn said they were being taken to the Butcher King." My hands still, her foot limp on my lap.

"Don't stop," she begs, "it feels so nice."

A wicked smile curves my lips.

"I told you you'd be begging me to touch you." I'm so entranced with the silky slide of the ointment against her skin, that I miss the pillow flying for my head.

"This is the only time I'll ever say it, you turd wrangler."

"I don't know what that means, but I know you're wrong." I love this. I love teasing her, I love that she's relaxed, half-asleep in the bed we'll share. She settles more deeply in the pillows, her eyes closed, and I continue the massage, marveling in her new trust for me.

"Mmm," is her only answer.

So I continue talking to her, working out the knots, moving to her other foot and ankle, telling her of Kirdiff and Castor's inn there, of what I remember of Ras.

When I finally finish, the fire needs to be stoked.

And my mate?

She's fast asleep, her face slack and beautiful as she dreams. Even her little snore is adorable. Carefully, I draw back the covers, tucking her in and moving the pillows to make her more comfortable. Her trust in me is new, and delicate, and I'd do anything to keep it safe.

Moving quietly, I turn away from her, pulling off the clean shirt and trousers before climbing in the bed beside her, using a small blanket to avoid disturbing her.

I lay my head on the pillow beside her, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathes.

As I tug the quilt more fully over her shoulder, she stirs slightly.

"Lesath?" Her eyes open slightly.

"Yes?" I nearly call her my mate, my love, but I know she won't like that, so I barely stop myself, holding it in.

"Thanks. That was really—" A tiny yawn interrupts whatever she was going to say, and she snuggles closer to me, falling back asleep. Her breath puffs across my face, and tempting fate, and the depth of her sleep, I run a finger across her jawline.

The need to claim her, to seal our bond and make her mine, burns through my veins.

I push it down. I can wait.

I won't break her fragile trust, not again.