Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

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S TEAM HAS NEVER LOOKED SO ENDEARING, AND I QUICKLY submerge myself in the tub before moving forward for Cayden to slip in behind me. The water rises to the brim with his added presence but looking behind me is daunting, so I focus on removing the pins and pearls Saskia wove into my hair.

"May I offer you my assistance?" he asks when he notes my struggle.

I sigh. "Saskia was quite thorough."

He begins gently removing pearls, running his fingers through my strands to undo several knots. "I love your hair." He sounds . . . shy. "It doesn't matter how you wear it."

I adopt some of his timidity. "Do you have a favorite style I've done?"

He slides a finger down my spine, earning a shiver from me. "When you braid the top half, weave flowers into it, and leave a few curls to frame your face. You're always beautiful but . . ." He trails off, laughing softly, and I can picture his dimples deepening as he shakes his head. "May I wash it for you?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. His fingers begin massaging my scalp before coating my hair in a light, clean scented soap. He takes care, ridding it of knots without pulling too hard, and it's strange knowing that these are the same hands he's split open multiple times on my behalf. My arms loosen around me the more I relax, reveling in being cared for like I never have. But his fingers stop, and his legs stiffen on either side of me. Without looking down, I slide my hand across my torso, sucking in a sharp breath when I press a bruise.

Cayden wraps a soapy hand around my wrist. "What happened?"

The warmth I felt with Sorin flees me, and all I'm left with is shame. Cayden tilts my head back and gently rinses my hair while I find my words. "The dragons weren't happy when they saw me. They regarded me as if I were an illusion and tried to prove I was real, but—" I clear my constricted throat and fidget with my pendant. "May I wash your hair now?"

"You don't have to," he replies. "But you can if you wish."

I look over my shoulder while kneeling between his legs, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. I've seen his chest many times, but I doubt I'll ever become accustomed to his beauty. The pink, white, and red scars that stand out against his olive skin, and the stars on his ribs that stretch above the surface. He runs his hands over my sides once I'm settled, and stares at me as if there's no other person he wants in front of him . . . like no other person exists aside from me.

His chest rises and falls unevenly as he takes me in, tongue slowly dragging across his lips as his eyes linger on my chest. "Beautiful," he murmurs, more to himself than me. "You are the embodiment of beauty."

He rises off the edge of the tub so I can wash his hair without spilling water on the floor. His hard length pokes me in the stomach, and I bite my lip to stop a moan from slipping out, but he cradles the side of my face, gently using his thumb to ease my lip from between my teeth. His breath warms my lips while his hand on my thigh warms everything I'm made of. I place a hand on his chest and drag some water over the cut on his bicep and under his eye.

"Talk to me, love." The tenderness in his tone heightens my reaction to him.

"The dragons calmed down once they realized I wasn't an illusion," I begin, tilting his chin up to run some water over his hair. I could spend hours playing with the soft, wavy strands. His eyes slide shut, and I wonder if anyone else has taken care of him, selfishly hoping I'm the first. "But their method of verification was hitting me with their tails."

His eyes shoot open, all traces of peace lost as he scrutinizes the dark purple spots.

"Please, don't judge them for this. They've been in so much agony. This is a small price to pay." Tears leak from my eyes, and I quickly wipe them away. "I know you'll disagree, so you don't have to say anything, but I deserve this pain."

"No, El. No. " He sighs, leaning forward to press his head to my stomach, still stroking his hands along my sides. The bruise on my right stretches from my breast to my belly button, and the left is about half the size. He gently pulls me down, settling me between his legs again, and leans forward to kiss my tears. "You don't deserve this pain."

"Gods." I force a laugh. "I'm sorry for getting like this again."

"Listen to me." He pulls back and frames my face. "Enduring pain doesn't mean you deserve it."

"Sometimes I just feel so guilty . . ." I lick my salty lips. "For surviving."

"I understand." He reaches beneath the water to grab my hand, placing it on his scarred cheek. "But they're free, and no longer just surviving. They're reclaiming the skies."

I smile, turning to the foggy window, feeling lighter with the knowledge that my dragons are flying somewhere close. "Exactly how long did you search for me?"

"I've looked for you anywhere I ended up in the world for as long as I can remember." He runs a hand through his wet hair before gliding it down my arm. "I saw you once when I was a boy, at the last summer solstice festival you attended before the imprisonment."

My jaw drops. "We met when we were children?"

"Gods, no. I was nothing more than a commoner. I broke my wrist falling off a roof trying to get a better look at you. You were there in your purple gown with dragons perched on your arms, feeding them honeybuns, in your own world with them, and I wanted to be part of it." He laughs, and the sound of his happiness warms the dark parts of me in rays of golden light. "I even forced my mother to teach me the recipe for the blueberry cake she made on my birthday so I could bribe you to be my friend."

I lean closer, trailing my hands through his wet waves as I imagine a younger version of him standing on a stool with flour on his cheeks and blueberries on his fingers. "Well, I probably would've liked you much more if you brought a cake to the forest instead of tying me to a tree."

"No, you wouldn't. I nearly burned our house down trying to make it." He rests his hand on my hip again. "Angel, you are the sickness of my thoughts and I have no intention of finding the cure."

"But everyone thought I was a ghost," I state in disbelief.

"I never said you were easy to find." His knuckle caresses my cheek. "You've been a light through my darkest times. Granted, as I got older your power was a big incentive, and I had no intention of falling for you, but now I know you, and you're . . . everything. Sometimes I look at you and I think I'm dreaming but I know that's impossible because you're more than I ever imagined."

His words make my heart throb, and I wish I knew how to describe this feeling, but I've never experienced this. He takes me to a place that no one else can, and I love who I am when I'm there. I press my lips to the top of his scar and slowly work my way down, savoring the feel of his skin on my lips. His heart beats rapidly beneath my palms, and he laces his fingers through my hair, keeping me close when I finish. "You're a good man, Cayden Veles. Far better than most, even if you don't believe it."

"Don't say that," he whispers.

"Why?"

His eyes are laced with longing, but his next words cause my nerves to rise like the tide. "I followed you to Aestilian."

" No. You didn't. I didn't hear you. I would've . . ." I sit up, covering my chest with my hair. "I would've heard you tracking me. I don't understand."

"I was the highest-paid assassin in Vareveth for my ability to move silently." His voice is even, gentle. "I didn't reveal the location to a soul, and nobody knows I was there."

Nothing but the droplets falling from my hair fill the silence, and once I note the lack of remorse, I say, "You don't regret it."

"I can't," he confesses. "I lost you after that festival, and I refused to make the same mistake again. You have always been the only person I believed was worth taking a chance on. If you slipped into the shadows after I finally found you again, that would've been my greatest regret."

All this time, I thought nobody cared when I disappeared. Even the assassins were infrequent and stopped several years ago. I believed my existence to be as insignificant as a single snowflake falling to the earth, never to be thought of once it melts. But throughout Cayden's whole life, no matter what changed, I've remained in his mind.

"If nobody knows you followed me, why did you tell me?" The words come out as a hoarse whisper.

"You've ruined me in this life, the next, and any that follow." Those full lips curl into an almost-smile, and his jaw clenches anxiously as his emerald gaze watches me intently. "I'm irrevocably lost in you, and it's the only place I want to be. I'll hurt anyone for you, including myself." He leans forward to kiss my cheek and grips the side of the tub when he pulls back. "I know this is a lot, and you must be overwhelmed. I'll give you some time."

I wrap my hand around his wrist before he has the chance to leave. "I don't want time." We've suffered enough. I'd take him to Aestilian tomorrow if we had time. I would've done the same thing if I were in his position, and he would sooner deny himself happiness than keep this information from me. "I want you, the man who faced the impossible and never gave up on me."

I grab his shoulders and cover his lips with mine. He remains frozen but melts once I slide my fingers through his hair and frame his hips with my legs. He kisses me slowly, and I feel it in every inch of my body. He lights every nerve on fire and renders me mindless. My core aches for him as I squirm in his lap, desperate for friction, and grind my hips onto his.

Perhaps we've always been inevitable.

The kiss becomes more urgent. Sensing my need without breaking the kiss, he rises from the tub with my legs wrapped around his waist. I tighten my arms and press myself into his chest, reveling in how it feels to have him pressed against me with no barriers. He lays me on the bed and removes his lips from mine to trail them down my neck, pausing on the sensitive spots he knows I love. I arch my back and lock my ankles around his torso to draw him closer, but he doesn't move.

"Need to taste you again." He flips us over and settles beneath me. "Take your throne, princess." I try to move back to ride him, but he halts me with a hand on my hips. "Sit on my face."

"Y-your face?" I stutter. "Will you be able to breathe?"

"Breathing isn't my top priority at the moment." He yanks me up his body, tightens his grip on my waist, and brings me to his mouth. I suppress a scream of relief, but he pulls my hand away and pins it at my side. "I didn't say hover," he growls. "I said sit. "

My thighs spread around his head, and he groans his approval, stroking me reverently. His eyes roll back in his head at the taste of me, and I grip the headboard to keep myself upright. I writhe on him, unable to keep my cries of pleasure quiet as he gives me exactly what I need and more. My thighs shake aggressively, and he rocks my hips back and forth, amplifying my pleasure further.

"That's it, gorgeous," he groans when I begin moving my hips as he directed. He palms my breasts and my head falls back as I moan his name. I want to surrender myself to him and never forsake this pleasure. "I'm not fucking you until you come on my tongue."

He quickens his pace, sensing I'm close. He wraps his lips around my clit, sucks, and the scream I let out has me worried someone will check on us. Instead of relenting, he continues torturing me until I let go of any restraint, grinding on his face and chasing the high only he has ever given me. I fall apart, calling out his name as he sends me into oblivion and only flips us over when he's sure I've finished.

His dark chuckle dances across my skin as he kisses up my thighs, the bruises on my torso, my neck, and finally my lips. There's no trace of cockiness in his gaze when he pulls back, just pure desire and tenderness. I raise a shaky hand to his cheek, and he leans into it, tilting his head to kiss my palm.

"Is this still okay, beautiful?"

I lean up to kiss him, whispering, "Yes."

He settles his hips between my legs and presses his forehead to mine. "I've never been a religious man, but I will worship you in ways the gods will envy."

He teases my entrance, dragging his cock up and down as I dig my nails into his shoulders to pull him closer, tired of the torturous teasing. I suck in a sharp breath when he begins entering me, needing time to adjust to his size. He groans and fists the sheets beside my head, pressing his lips to mine when I whimper.

"Don't stop," I plead against him.

He slowly rocks his hips into mine. "We'll make it fit. I've got you, angel, just relax."

The pain slowly melts to pleasure, and I'm soon a moaning mess beneath him. He grinds deeper the wetter he makes me, muttering curses and praises as he pulls out to brush his cock against my clit before sliding in again. I begin moving my hips against his, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he's giving me. His thrusts become harder, faster, and I wrap my legs around his waist to fit him deeper.

"Harder," I moan, knowing he's still holding back, scared to hurt me.

But he complies, and I swear I see stars falling from the ceiling. "You want me to fuck you like this, beautiful?" He rises to his knees, lifting my hips and drilling into me. "I want an answer when I ask a question, El. Now tell me—am I fulfilling those fantasies you have at night when I hear you moaning my name into your pillow?"

I gasp, but I'm too lost in pleasure to feel an ounce of embarrassment. "You heard that?"

"Stroked my cock to it." He smirks. "Did you imagine taking all of me like the greedy queen you are?"

"Yes," I moan, letting my pleasure heighten with the image of him fisting himself to me. "I hated you for making me crave you."

"Such a dirty princess." He abruptly pulls out and flips me onto my stomach. "I should've lifted your hips and gave you what you were begging for."

I can't count how many nights my desire for him kept me awake, tossing and turning until I took care of the throbbing between my thighs. The urge to cross the suite and climb into his bed was overwhelming, and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop myself now that I know he's better than anything I imagined.

I arch my back for him, rest my cheek against the mattress, and spread my legs wide with my hips in the air. He strokes his cock a few times, soaking me in with his heated gaze. "So good to me, love." I don't let the mattress muffle my moans when he enters me again, and the headboard bangs into the wall from his sharp thrusts. He palms my ass and reaches forward to thread his fingers through the roots of my hair to haul me back against his chest.

"Gods!" I cry out as he reaches between my thighs and rubs me.

"The gods aren't in the bedroom. I am. You scream my name or nothing. No god or man will ever fuck you like I can." His tone is unhinged, ravenous, and he moans deeply when I tighten around him. I press my hand into his cheek and bring his lips to mine.

"You're the only one I want," I confess. He drops his head, teeth and tongue skimming my neck before he flips me over again to yank me up by my thighs, sits back on his knees, and thrusts up, keeping me in his lap as he moves my body on his shaft. White spots dance in my vision from the added friction.

"You have me," he pants, driving deeper. His mouth finds my sweet spot again as I tighten around him and my pleasure peaks. I drag my nails down his back, and it sends him over the edge. Our lips collide but it's hardly a kiss. He sits back on his ankles and presses his sweaty forehead to my shoulder. "Fuck," he murmurs.

I laugh. "Fuck, indeed."

He sets me down on the bed, searching my eyes to make sure I'm all right as he pulls out. A lazy smile spreads across my lips before I kiss him again, humming as he relaxes in my hold.

"Get under the covers while I hang your clothes in front of the fire," he says before turning away. I make a noise of protest and try to hold him to me, but he softly chuckles and reaches around to remove my hands from his neck, kissing both my palms.

My eyelids are heavy by the time he joins me and props his head on his hand. "I'm never letting you out of my sight."

"You're not supposed to say that like a warning," I sigh as he leans down to kiss my neck.

"It feels like a threat." The confusion on his face makes me laugh. "I don't understand this feeling."

"Calm down, demon. It's new for me, too."

"It's sickening, but I don't want it to stop," he mutters as he lies beside me, dragging me onto his chest and wrapping his arms around me like he's worried someone will steal me from him while he sleeps.

I press my lips to the scars and stars that litter his skin as he plays with my hair. It's strange to feel so wholly content, and it's hard to believe I'm not dreaming. I sit up, kissing the scar on his cheek again, my eyes flashing between it and his eyes. "Will you tell me more about how you got this?"

His hands twitch before resuming their movements. "What would you like to know?"

I press my lips together but don't drop his gaze. "Was Garrick responsible?" He keeps weaving his fingers through my hair but doesn't respond. Rain patters against the shutters, and the log crackles in the fire, but the silence encroaches me with guilt. "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's all right," he says gently. "You're asking me questions I've never answered, so it's just taking me a moment to find the right words."

He sighs deeply, running his hands along my back. "My parents were in hiding, but my mother went into Imirath on occasion to see her friends. Sometimes she'd take me with her." He clears his throat, and I continue trailing my fingers on his chest. "A guard must've recognized her while she was chasing me through the market, because Imirath soldiers came to our house that night."

He climbs out of bed and wraps a blanket around his waist before reaching for my hand and leading me toward a window. I throw a blanket around my shoulders and lean into him as his arms circle my waist.

"I use the term house lightly, but it was a home when my father wasn't there." He points to what looks like the remnants of a shack by the tree line. "They carved my cheek open after I killed a soldier . . . told me to use it as a reminder to know when to stop fighting." I spin in his arms and rest my hand on his cheek. He flinches before relaxing into my palm. I recall our conversation after infiltrating Kallistar . . . he was only eleven. "I apologize for the lack of eloquence, it's just that being back here is . . . I've never spoken about that day."

"We have time, Cayden," I say, and he leans down to kiss my head. "Were you able to give her a funeral?"

"No, I—" He shakes his head. "I'm sure the villagers built her a pyre, but I wasn't here to see it."

"Would you like one?" I ask, forcing myself to not question where he went after that tragic day. His confusion fades as his eyes flick to the tree line again, and he nods.

"Are you sure you don't want to look around first? I'll go with you."

"There's nothing left for me here. The Imirath soldiers torched it, but clearly it wasn't entirely successful, and looters would have taken anything that remained."

I turn toward the window, watching my eyes glow gold in the reflection while calling upon Venatrix. I'm not able to see her through the storm and the darkness, but her fire is there in seconds, burning what's left of Cayden's childhood home while he holds me. We remain silent, and I trail my fingers over his forearms, resting my cheek against his bicep until he spins me around, framing my face with his hands.

"We're both burdened by our pasts, my scars just aren't as visible," I murmur. "And I'm so thankful you survived."

"Every part of you, every scar, both visible and invisible, is utterly beautiful to me."

"I can plant something there for her in the spring if you'd like to come back," I offer.

"Grow a garden at my home instead," he says. "She wouldn't want to be remembered in a place like this, and flowers make you happy. Staying away from you has proven to be quite difficult to me, and I have no intention of going to bed without you."

My cheeks redden. "I'll have to get some tools."

"Done." He brushes his lips over mine. "I'll find a way to gift you the stars if you wish for them. You can have anything you want, love."

He kisses me, and the only thing I can focus on is twining our bodies together again. It's slow and heady and tender. He caresses my thighs and whispers sweet nothings against my skin. I've never felt quite so cherished, and I find myself silently praying that the moon is kind and grants us a few extra moments before dawn.