Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Arkon woke late the following day. Zarya wasn’t beside him. He tried not to feel a pang of unease over that as he searched for his watch. It was 1:00 pm, so he didn’t feel like he had been abandoned. It was just late.

He stretched, his back popping, and wandered to the bathroom. He was covered in scratches and bite marks, and he burst out laughing. He felt...good. Better than he could remember. It wasn’t just getting off; it wasn’t as if he had lived as a monk, but it was Zarya. Beautiful, deadly, complicated Zarya.

Gods, he was actually hungry. Who was he? What had she done to him?

Arkon showered, dressed, and rang the servants to bring him something to eat.

"We tried to, sir, but we couldn’t find your apartment again," the kitchen staff replied.

Arkon frowned. "Come on up, and I’ll fix the warding." He hung up and touched his wards over the door.

Zarya had been messing with the wards again, and this time, it was to ensure that he wasn’t bothered under any circumstances. The warding stretched over to include her apartments. She had somehow melded them all together.

Arkon shook his head in wonder before he made some adjustments. A harassed servant arrived soon after with a tray of food and a pile of mail.

Arkon poured himself coffee and picked up a message with a black seal. He recognized it as coming from one of his ravens based in Kyiv. He cut his finger, touched his blood to the seal, and it cracked open.

—

GS, Army is on the move. Pulled back all the borders and assembling somewhere in the south. Will report back as soon as I know more.

—

Arkon tappedthe letter against his palm. To his knowledge, the emperor had never called a full retreat of his soldiers from their front lines. He needed to talk to Zarya.

Arkon picked up his tray and walked to her front door. He was determined to act normal and not pounce on her like an excited puppy and lick her all over. Fuck, she tasted good. He knocked on the door and held his breath.

"Come in, Arkon," Zarya called. He didn’t question how she could know it was him. Her wards were so complex, they could probably tell him his blood type.

Zarya was sitting on the floor in his robe, her hair a choppy riot half secured with a pencil. Papers and pencils were scattered around her.

Don’t jump on her, Arkon reminded himself. It didn’t matter that his dick was already hardening. This was the Zarya who turned him on the most. He was overcome with the burning urge to look after her and then fuck her into a coma.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, setting the tray on the only spare space on the coffee table beside her.

"Um," she scratched her neck. "No? I showered and then kind of forgot about food."

Arkon passed her one of his pastries. "Why did you leave?"

"I didn’t want to wake you up," Zarya said with a shrug. "You looked very, very tired."

"I wonder why," he replied, and they shared a smug smile.

She snickered. "Big night for an old man."

"You want to be spanked again?" he asked, and she tossed a pencil at him. "You seem too busy on the floor anyway. What are you working on?"

Zarya looked at the papers around her and exhaled loudly. "I woke up thinking about what Stas said about Strahil still having Asa’s blood and bones. I’m trying to figure out a way to track them down. What’s with the letter?" She gestured at the note in his hand with her pastry.

"The emperor is pulling his army back from the front lines. It’s too much to hope for a retreat, but he’s moving them somewhere," Arkon explained and passed her the note.

Zarya scanned the lines and said around a mouthful of pastry, "Sofia in Bulgaria. That’s where the army is going."

Arkon’s brow rose. "How do you know that?"

"Because I paid attention to all of Arkadi’s rants on how he would take Constantinople. He wants to use Sofia as one of his bases," Zarya said and took his coffee from him and drained it. Arkon refilled the cup for her. "I’m telling you… He’s done waiting. He’ll try and take it in the summer. He doesn’t care about the little ground he’s gained in Croatia. If he takes Constantinople, he will have a foothold in the Mediterranean. He already has the Black Sea."

"I’ll tell Gio, and he can figure out what he wants to do about it," Arkon said. He tugged out the pencil from Zarya’s hair and wrote a message on the outside of the letter before sketching a sigil on it. The letter disappeared, and Arkon knew it would land in front of Gio wherever he was. It was his problem to deal with.

"Now, let’s look at this tracking spell of yours," Arkon said, gesturing for the paper she had been scribbling on. He studied it as they ate, the cup of coffee passing between them in silence.

"Thoughts?" she asked.

"We should ask Zahir. He’s really good at tracking spells, and it might be that we would over complicate something that a djinn would find simple." Arkon passed her back the paper. "Why are you frowning?"

"I didn’t even think of asking for help. It’s only been me for so long, I hadn’t considered there would be others that would know..." she broke off and quickly ate a grape.

"We have friends, lupa. Zahir especially loves to stick his nose into my business. He will be delighted to help you with this," Arkon said, and no doubt the djinn would figure out straight away that they’d had sex and want to tease him about it. "If Strahil carries the bones with him, then it might be a way for us to locate the camp that he is hiding in."

Zarya nodded and got up to stretch. "I’ll find some proper clothes."

"I did notice you’re wearing my robe," Arkon said, reaching for the tie around her waist. Zarya sidestepped him.

"I’ve claimed it as a trophy," she said with mischief in her eyes. "You know, like war booty."

"I haven’t even begun to make war on your booty," Arkon replied and shot her a wink. "Though if you ask me nicely..."

"Focus, sorcerer. We have things to do," Zarya said, and because she was the devil, she dropped the robe on her way into the bedroom. Arkon got a tantalizing view of creamy skin and her curved delight of an ass before she shut the door behind her. He leaned his head back against the chair and cursed under his breath. It was going to be a long day, and it had barely started.