30. THIRTY

thirty

A SACRIFICE OF VIRTUE

Cole hasn’t made it to dinner. Again. Worry settles in the pit of my stomach like a bag of stones.

“Cole…?” Archie asks at the dinner table. The worry in his eyes mirroring my own.

I shake my head. “He’s just tired. Trying to catch up on sleep. A lot of loose ends from the battle.”

I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Archie or myself.

As soon as I eat my fill, I take a tray of food to Cole’s room.

A drip of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. I don’t know what I’m nervous for, but the prickling unease is undeniable—blooming from every corner of my body. His mother’s ring is heavy and cold on my finger.

I strain to listen for any sign of Cole behind his door. Waiting for any scrawl of pen on paper. Any hushed conversations or deep, sleepy breaths. But it’s silent, so I knock against his door. With no answer, I twist the doorknob and slowly push it open. If he’s out on patrol, at least I can leave the food for him.

As I walk into the room, Cole is lying on his back in the bed. His eyes drag toward me from where he was deep in thought staring at the ceiling. Dark circles edge his eyes, his hair a tangled red mess. The lines on his forehead are etched deeper than before. At least the blood and dirt has been cleaned from his skin and hair.

A cold dagger sinks deeper into my heart as more time passes, and he looks worse. Something is seriously wrong. As I close his door, he pushes himself onto his forearms and sits up. My eyes wander to the cut grazing his cheek, relieved no sign of infection marks his skin. One less thing to worry about.

I lift the tray as I walk toward him. “Hungry?”

“No,” he mumbles.

“Well, you have to eat something. I haven’t seen you eat since the battle—”

“I know. But…I can’t. I can’t eat anything.”

Slowly, I sit next to him on the bed, afraid I might spook him if I move too fast. “Why? What’s bothering you, Cole? I know something’s wrong.”

He sighs heavily and looks down at his clasped hands. “I don’t really know...how to talk about it...”

I place the food tray at the end of his bed and rest my hand on his thigh, brushing my thumb against him in soothing strokes.

Our touch sparks a slight smile in him before it fades. “I…I’ve never killed someone before.”

My thumb pauses on his leg. “But…before I found you, someone said you stopped a rebel group. That you beheaded their leader and put it on a spike near the border—”

“No. While I did stop their group from infiltrating the outpost, Darian was the one who put their leader’s head on a spike, much against my command not to. I took it down the next day. Their leader wasn’t supposed to be executed, he was supposed to be a prisoner. Darian actively defied my orders.”

Silence falls between us, like a knife tearing through the space. I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever been so physically close to him and yet, felt so far away. Like he’s holding me back at an arm’s length and doesn’t want to let me in. After all this time, he’s trying to protect me—but I don’t need his protection.

“You had to do what you had to do,” I whisper.

“I’ve never wanted to kill anyone, though. I know it was inevitable in this role and in the military. I just wish I could have…prepared myself…I guess. When I saw that rebel swing at you, it just happened. The thought of him hurting you. The thought that he might kill you and take you away from me. I just—” His head dips low, red hair covering his face as he clears the tension in his throat. But it’s unsuccessful, his voice is still hoarse. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

I nod, struggling to find the words to comfort him. “Hey, you’re a good person. You didn’t mean to.”

“But I did. I did mean to. And in the moment, I wanted to.” He avoids my gaze, his attention fixed to his hands. The muscles flex beneath his skin as he clenches and unclenches his fists. “And then when we got back and I realized Archie was missing…I don’t know. I swear I could have killed Darian then, too. I imagined wrapping my hands around his throat...” He bites down on his trembling lip. “Gods, I feel fucking awful . I can’t get it out of my head. That’s not who I am, nor who I want to be. But what if...what if I don’t know who I am anymore? What if I’m not the same person I thought I once was? It—it scares me.”

“Then let me remind you.” I breathe, leaning in to kiss him. To remind the both of us.

This is Cole.

The same Cole who taught me how to make better fish traps so I had a better chance at surviving back in Padmoor. The same Cole who traded me a fire poker so I could give my mother honey when she was sick. The same Cole who played tea party with his little sisters and would have taken the blame for my father’s journal so I wouldn’t be executed. Who stormed Blackfell, aflame and crumbling, to rescue Archie. The same Cole who risks his life again and again for me. Who loves furiously and defends those who need it with every fiber of his being.

He is courageous. Honorable. Loving. And everything I could ever want in a man.

He sighs into my kiss, and I climb closer to him. As I swing my leg over him to straddle his hips, he pushes away from me. I blink in confusion as my eyes meet his.

Something else flickers in his hazel eyes—is that…is that fear?

“Wait,” he whispers. Tears line his eyes as he twirls a piece of my blonde hair around his finger and tucks it behind my ear, dragging his touch underneath my jaw to tilt my face up toward his. “I just need this last moment of you and I. One last time of us. Tell me you love me…tell me one more time.”

“What? Of course I love you. Why would it be one last time? What is it? What’s wrong?”

A crack splits the dam he has walled up against the emotions hidden behind his eyes. A single tear slips, rolling down his cheek, as his breath hitches.

“You’re scaring me,” I mutter, swiping away his tear with a finger.

His voice cracks in pain. “I’ve royally fucked up, Kat. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I see now I should have told you this a long time ago. I was just so fucking terrified to lose you again. I put my heart above telling you the truth.”

My stomach curls into a ball of knots, his voice is laced with something grave and dark. Something strained, desperate, and scared. I hold onto my breath, and I slide off him.

“I-I don’t know how to say this.” He shakes his head. “Can you promise to listen to me until I’m done?”

“What is it?” I demand.

“I need you to promise me to listen until I explain everything. Please—”

“Just get out with it.” My skin prickles in anticipation.

Another tear slips from his eyes. He watches me with pinched brows, blinking slowly as if we’re saying goodbye forever. Dipping his head in defeat, he squeezes his eyes shut, as if he can’t bear to look at me any longer. “I’m…engaged.”

My world stops turning. The air is sucked out of the room, and my vision spins. Every breath is a shard of glass tearing deeper into my heart. Stunned as if he slapped me, I mutter, “You’re joking.”

Maybe I hadn’t heard him right. Maybe this is only another sick, awful dream. I shake my head, as if it’ll clear my ears and I’ll process what he actually said. Shaking my head as if it may shake me awake, and I’ll be in another time and place. Where I’m not here. The motion of my head quickens to a furious speed as his words settle on me like fallen ash. I blink through the disbelief and surging emotions threatening to drown me.

My voice pitches higher through my tight throat. “You’re joking.” I repeat. Gripping his arm, I shake him, desperate for him to look up at me. “Tell me you’re joking, Cole!”

He shakes his head, still unable to look me in the eye.

“Since when?” I croak.

He sinks forward, elbows on his knees as he buries his face into his hands. “Since I thought you were…”

Dead.

He can’t even say the words. But it hangs between us nonetheless. And yet…he couldn’t bother to tell me the first time he saw me? Or the nights thereafter? Rage flares in me wicked hot, burning me from the inside out. My body trembles from the threat of combustion, and I clench my fists to keep myself from exploding.

He sucks in a breath, finally glancing over to me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I tried so many times. I just couldn’t find the right time—”

“The right time would have been before you fucked me. That would have been the right time. ” The words are venom on my tongue, each word increasing in hostility and pitching higher.

He tries to reach out to me, and I rip my hand away, finally thawing whatever had frozen me to the spot next to him. I can’t race for the door fast enough.

“Kat, please! Kat, wait!” His voice is edged in desperation. “Let me explain. Please, I love you! ”

I swivel toward him, pointing a finger at him as if it’ll still the anger inside me. “No, fuck you, Cole. How could you keep that from me? Maybe you were right. I don’t know you anymore, either. Because the Cole I knew would have told me. He wouldn’t have lied.”

The words spill out of my trembling mouth. I’m struggling to maintain any semblance of composure. Rage and betrayal roar inside me, drowning out every other thought and feeling.

I rip his mother’s ring from my finger and shove it into his hand. “Here, you’ll probably need this for your fiancée.”

“No, wait!” He’s trying to calm me down, grabbing me by my shoulder. But he can’t save me from this hell. It’s too late. All that’s left to do is burn.

I pull away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t touch me ever again. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He has the godsdamn audacity to look at me with tears, as if this hurts him more than it does me. I burst out of his room, but he’s hot on my heels.

Carlisle strides up to Cole. “Captain, you really need to hear this.”

“Hold on, ” Cole grits.

“It’s urgent and can’t wait. It’s from the King.”

Cole grunts, and his footsteps behind me cease. I race straight back toward my room, my blood rushing in my ears.

“Daeja? We are leaving.”

“What?”

“Yes, tonight. Now. Meet me near camp, and we’ll go.”

Every doubt creeping into my mind of taking Daeja to the Dragon Lands on my own is snuffed out by the anger raging inside me. I burst into my room, shoving my belongings into my satchel and scrawling a note for Marge and Archie. They’re essentially the same—thank you for everything, I’ll always consider you a friend. I hope to see you again.

I can already imagine Archie crying, and Marge pissed I didn’t take her with me. I hesitate in the heat of the moment but push through it before I can think for too long. Before I change my mind. Maybe I’ll come back, and if not, maybe they’re better off without me, anyway. I don’t have the emotional capacity to consider the outcomes nor the ability to handle anything other than the boiling rage threatening to implode inside of me.

“On my way.”

I grab my sword and slip out of my room. As I close my door, I catch a glimpse of the drooping flowers on the desk Cole had given me all those weeks ago before I slam it shut. I glance toward the north when my attention snags on Darian’s room. The silvery sheen of the moon peaks above his angled roof.

“The map. I have to get the map.”

I slink over to his room, glancing over my shoulder as I go. Once I’m at his door, I knock and wait. Nothing. Checking my surroundings once more, I attempt to open the door.

Locked.

Fuck the map. We’ll just have to get there on our own. I round the corner of Darian’s room and spot Daeja’s silhouette off in the woods beyond.

My toe catches on the side of a crate tucked in the shadows against Darian’s room. I stumble to my knees and whip my gaze at the wooden thing. A liquid sloshes inside of it, and in the moonlight, I can make out red letters plastered across the side: FRAGILE .

Not sure what a crate of wine is doing out here.

Daeja’s silhouette ripples in the shadowed trees up ahead as she begins to approach camp. As I walk toward her, a fist grabs the back of my cloak. I’m ripped back and thrown face first into a wall. An aching pain splits my cheek as I connect with the cold stone.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” someone growls.

My heart races as I dig for an explanation. When I don’t answer, I’m spun around and shoved with my back against the wall. My shoulders groan in pain with the violent contact. A hand wraps tightly around my throat. Another hand presses a dagger to my chest. Darian’s glare burns into me, his teeth bared in a silent warning. I struggle against his grip, wriggling like a worm under his pin. When I don’t answer his question, he tightens his grip around my throat.

I gasp. “You’re choking me—”

“I asked you a fucking question.”

“Daeja, get out of here, get to the lake before he sees you.” My rage melts into fear, and I panic, trying to keep him from looking over his shoulder at her. All he would have to do is turn.

“ What do you want?” he hisses again. The tip of his blade burrows into my chest. I’m trying to think of something. Anything. The fear of Darian finding Daeja overrides all of my lingering rage, betrayal, and hurt. Black bleeds into the edges of my vision from the lack of oxygen.

Daeja stalks toward us, her wings flaring. “I’ll sear every inch of his flesh for putting his hands on you.”

“No—go!” My impulsive gaze flickers over to her shadowy silhouette for a split second.

Darian’s eyes narrow before he turns his head to follow my gaze. There’s only one thing I know might distract him enough so Daeja can slip away. The only thing I can think of to save us.

“You.” I breathe.

He freezes. Something in his gaze falters. His stare bounces back and forth between my eyes. His grip softens around my throat, but there’s still a bite to his words. “What did you say?”

“I said...I want…” The afforded slack allows me to grab fistfuls of his hair, and I yank him toward me. “You.”

I kiss him.

“Go, Daeja, before he sees you.”

Darian flinches in shock. But it’s only a second before he shoves back into me and kisses me— hard. It’s taut and tight. Nothing of the gentleness, the sincerity, and the warmth of Cole. Just as we battled in the sparring center, our tangle is just as tense. We move our mouths over each other, grappling for the upper-hand. Neither of us stopping or ceasing. He presses his hard body into me, pinning me into submission against the wall. Moving away from his mouth, I kiss and suck his sinfully smooth skin on his angled jaw and throat. The tension under him waxes and wanes until he thrusts into me with a ferocity and burning need. Shoving me harder into the wall. As if he needs me closer.

It’s working.

I run my hands under his shirt and caress his sides, my fingertips tracing each crevice and mound of muscled abs and pecks.

I hate him, I tell myself. I just have to make this convincing enough so he doesn’t catch on.

A brief whisper of a thought flickers in the back of my mind... then what are you doing?

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

Gods, I can already hear his voice inside my head. I know. But something shifts in me. The hate fueling each flicker of my fingers against his muscles, each caress of my lips on his hot skin transforms into something else even more dangerous.

But where do I stop? And how can I stop? What if…what if I can’t stop?

The pressure from his dagger against my chest disappears. Something clatters to the ground. His grip on my throat shifts down to seize my hips, and he lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, and he shifts himself right between my legs. He crushes his groin into me with a gods almighty sinful pressure.

Oh, gods. It’s working too well. Even working on me.

He shouldn’t feel this good. His touch shouldn’t be as magnetic as it is. Every stupid graze of his lips on me has me gasping for air, every brush of his fingers makes my heart skip a beat.

Breaking from the kiss, he sucks on my earlobe and drags his tongue across the soft spot behind my ear—that sweet, sensitive spot never failing to betray me. I surprise myself with a moan, and his cheeks tighten into a victorious grin. My core rushes with molten desire, melting the last of my inhibitions. I find myself devastatingly hungry for him.

I feel myself falling. Sinking deep into a thick haze of lust, as vividly as if I were slipping off the side of a cliff. I reach out, desperate to anchor myself into anything that’ll keep me from plummeting. But each grip vanishes with his hot breath whispered into my ear and the tease of his soft lips against my skin. He lures out and taunts each of my dangerous cravings I didn’t even know existed.

His mouth travels down my neck toward the swell of my breasts. My legs squeeze tighter around his waist, my shoulders rolling back. He trails his hot tongue deliciously slow across my skin, leaving me shivering and wanting.

Before I can think better of it, the words slip off my lips. “I want you...take me to your room.”

His teeth nip the top of my breasts. “I don’t need to hide. I’ll take you right here, right now. Everyone can watch me fuck you against this wall.”

My fingers curl into his thick brown hair, my voice coming out in a strained whisper, “Please, Darian.”

Without another second of hesitation, he carries me into his room, honoring my request. He sucks and nips at the crook between my neck and shoulder as we burst through his door. After he kicks the door closed behind him, he sets me on my feet. I tear the satchel off my shoulder and toss it to the ground, eyes glued to him as he lifts his shirt off. But rather than glancing away, I trail every tempting, sexual edge of his body.

He ghosts over to me as I lift my shirt, his deft fingers unhooking and unclasping every layer on my body. I fling my shirt off, the cool air peaking my nipples. He drops to his knees in front of me, a trail of his hot kisses snaking down my navel as he works to shimmy my trousers down. My pants collect into a puddle at my ankles, leaving me naked, and his gaze sweeps up to my face. His green eyes are hungry through the set of his deviously angled brows.

He drags his sinful tongue against my inner thigh, edging closer and closer to my center. My head falls back, and he stops before his tongue can touch me. I sway, and his strong hands grip my hips to steady me.

His breath warms the space between my legs. “Tell me what you want.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I don’t want to say it. I can’t give the deepest, hungriest desires in me, words. Gripping his hair in my hands, I pull his face closer between my legs instead. I tremble in anticipation of having his mouth on me.

He snorts at my impatience. But then heavily inhales my scent before burying his face between my legs. There is no hesitation, no limitation to how easily he sucks and licks me. Swirling his tongue around my throbbing clit, he devours every inch of my wet, hot skin. His fingers dig into my hips as I jerk with breathy moans.

“ Mmmm.” He groans at how wet he’s made me, pulling back to peer up at me from between my legs. “Gods, you taste as good as I thought you might.”

He watches me, that sly smirk on his lips as he feasts on every bit of my pleasure. I can’t help but think of how ridiculously seductive he is. Whispering things to me between my legs even I can’t understand. He drives his tongue into my hot, wet entrance as he uses the tip of his nose to rub circles against my clit.

Fuck. I’m in way over my head.

I whimper, my legs trembling beneath me as he races me to a climax. My eyes flash open, each breath ragged in my chest. “Please. I can’t take it. Just fuck me already.”

Mercifully, he gathers me into his arms and lays me on his bed, hovering over me. As if every waiting moment is agonizing, I sink my frantic fingers into the edge of his pants and pull down. His thick cock springs free. I gape at the naked glory of his body, pulled into touching every inch he’ll allow me. His body is carved into deep angles and lines from years of vigorous training, all the way from his chest down to his hips. The perfect set of abs sit just above his delicious, thick, straining cock. A molten rush of anticipation tingles in the pits of my stomach.

He pulls back to look at my nakedness with a slow lick of his lips. The sight of him alone makes me want to crumble, my knees weak at the uncontrollable desire to sit on his face. To have him fuck me and fill me. Touching me, teasing me, and doing all the things I desperately need him to do.

Taking two fingers, he teases my entrance as I eagerly buck against him. He works my delicate flesh, swiping his skilled fingertips up and down, agonizingly slow, until his fingers glisten with me. As I lift my hips to him, silently begging, he finally pushes his fingers into me as I whimper and writhe.

He doesn’t take his time. It’s rough and exhilarating as he pumps hard and fast. I find myself grinding against his hand feverishly. He has me at the pathetic mercy of each stroke, and I’m dipping my head back into the pillows with each delicious slide of his fingers. He adds a third, and I gasp as he eases into me until I’m on fire for something more—for him. Starving for him to fill the aching need he’s created in me.

I creep closer to an orgasm, my legs shaking. “Darian, please. Slow down, or I’m going to come.”

He doesn’t slow, his eyes wicked as he flicks his tongue across his lips and smiles. “Good girl. You’re going to come for me on my fingers. For the rest of the night, you’re not going to stop coming until I say you can stop. Do you understand?”

I’m not sure if I should be afraid or exhilarated. But I don’t have long to consider which because I burst at the seams and climax around his skilled fingers with a cry.

He lurches forward, stealing my scream with a kiss. His fingers slow inside me as I spasm again and again. As the trembling in my legs subsides, he pulls back from our kiss.

His nose brushes the tip of mine, and his thumb snags at my bottom lip. “If I could bottle that sound...”

I reach out and wrap my fingers around his hard cock, hoping it’s enough that I don’t need to admit aloud I need him.

His heavy lidded eyes flick down to my hand wrapped around his length and back up toward me. His voice comes out on choppy breaths. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

I stroke him, rubbing my thumb over the head of his cock. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. Show me how much of an asshole you really are.”

His eyes cloud. A darkness seeps over his features, the light winks out of his expression. Slowing the rhythm of his fingers inside of me to a halt, he removes them. But rather than immediately sinking his cock into me, he flips me over to lay flat on my belly. He rips my hips up, my ass perked up for him. Gripping the width of my hips, he positions himself closer to me. His cock grazes my wetness.

“I’m going to fuck you until you purr, kitten,” he rasps, his voice thick with his own desire. The head of his thick cock sinks into me slowly, pushing deeper inside of me. Every inch of him spreads and stretches me in a burning ache, the fullness of him makes my jaw fall open.

“Fuuuck, you feel good,” he whispers. “Just a little more. You can take one more inch…yes. That’s it. Yes, good girl.”

My insides scream in ecstasy when he finally fills me to the brim. He adopts a delicate roll of his hips into me. Each stroke I surrender more and more, clenching my fists into his sheets. I bite down a muffled cry as he digs his fingers into my hips to steady me while he puts more strength into his thrusts, pounding into me. Hard and quick. To the point I’m clinging to every breath like it may be my last. The wet smack of our naked skin against each other fills the room, and gods, it drives me wild. I never knew how much I needed to hear the sound.

The thickness of him fills me in an enigmatic inferno. He drills into me over and over until I find my hips sliding back impatiently to meet him, chasing his rhythm for more. My lips part to let out a moan.

“Yes. Sing for me,” he begs, his voice shallow and husky. He fucks me faster until we are both moaning in sync. Threading his fingers through my hair, he pulls me up onto my hands and knees. Slamming his hips into me. Harder. And harder. The pressure in me builds until I teeter at the edge, begging for release.

“Come for me. Again,” he whispers against my ear. Reaching his hand down between my legs, he expertly rubs circles against my sensitive clit. With his other hand tangled in my hair, he tears my head back so I’m staring up at the ceiling. He bites into my shoulder as he thrusts in time with his fingers rubbing on my clit.

I unleash a cry as I erupt, shuddering and quaking on his cock. A swim of stars twinkle in my vision as I climax. Gods, I swear my ears ring with how hard I orgasm.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls into my ear.

I’m not sure how much more time passes, as I’m lost in a timeless haze of madness and lust. Only able to focus on the now and how inexplicably feral he makes me. But I do know I climax at least three more times. I’ve fallen into his sheets and pillows, unable to keep myself upright on my trembling arms and legs. I’m lost to his utter control and intoxication while he fucks me into the squeaking mattress.

When I throatily scream into his pillow, spasming around his cock for a sixth time, something changes.

He spreads my legs wider as he drills into me, his voice tight and choppy. “Gods, your scream is going to make me come — ”

He roars.

If it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve heard yet, I’m not sure what would top it. He fills me with his release, his pumping slows to a stop until he pulls out of me. He collapses onto the bed beside me with a huff, his breath sawing in and out of his chest. My heart slows from a race to a sink. The fog of my desire fades and melts away. Overwhelming regret looms as I come down from the earth shattering highs.

What have I done?