26. Reina

Chapter twenty-six

Reina

T he second day of my bleeding is the worst. The muscles deep in my stomach cramp and cause me so much discomfort I want to scream, but I resist the urge. Jasper waits on me like a loving husband. What if he actually cares about me?

My stomach sours.

It was fine when all he wanted to do was shove his head between my legs, but now if he cares…truly cares? What I'm doing—asking him to strengthen my kingdom at the cost of his freedom—feels wrong. It feels vile.

It feels like something my mother would do, and I hate myself for it.

Jasper stole me. Jasper took me for his purpose, for his goals. It's not vile for me to ask the same in return. It's not evil for me to use my sexuality to urge and coerce.

Except it feels like it is.

Circular thoughts plague me all day until we make camp. I collapse in the damp grass where Jasper is setting our tent. Humidity clings to my body and I pant heavily as I reach for my skein. I suck the last of the warm water down and moan pathetically.

"I'll get you more soon, just rest," Jasper says.

"No, I can get it," I say, refusing to let him wait on me anymore.

I look around for where the central camp is being made. They always bring enough water for everyone to have some. The caravan has decreased in size by half, some of the merchants taking alternate roads to different towns, and now we have some space to ourselves while still enjoying the protection of a group.

I roll onto my side and climb to my feet, groaning at the pain in my lower belly. To hell with womanhood. I reach for the skein on Jasper's waistband. "Let me fill yours too. I might need to drink it later."

He chuckles and unhooks it from his multi-pocketed belt. My fingers brush his as I take the skein, and it feels like a shock coursing through my body from the contact. His eyes flare with beautiful opalescent color, his magic surging to the surface. My lungs ache as I stare at his breathtaking radiance.

"Hurry back," he says in a quiet hush, his gaze intense.

I suck down a gasp of much-needed air that does nothing to clear the buzzing from my head and nod. I need to get away from him and this sensation that forces all the other feelings I want to avoid, like guilt and doubt, to the surface.

My legs ache in protest as I walk to the center of camp, but something about the ache feels undeniably good. I know that I'm getting stronger. I know that tomorrow I'll be able to walk farther before Jasper starts to hold up my pack and hurry me along.

I help shred coconut husk for the firepit while someone else retrieves water. It also feels good to be able to do something, to know how to help. I've made small talk with many of the people on this trip and lied to all of them convincingly. I don't know how to cook to save my life, but I've watched enough of the goings-on in the kitchen to fake it.

The water arrives and we boil it first, then I fill up our skeins. Jasper has set up the tent and made the interior comfortable by the time I get back. He pulls me against his chest, and despite all my feelings toward him over the last weeks, I melt as he begins to massage my shoulders.

I drop the skeins and moan. "Please never stop."

He hums mirthfully. "That's going to make getting dinner ready difficult."

"I'll eat old cheese and bread without complaint if you keep going for at least another ten minutes," I mumble against his chest.

"I can do ten minutes. Lie down on your stomach so I can get all of you," he says.

I hastily remove my boots and get onto the bedding, putting my pack under my chest for support. Jasper's thighs land on either side of me and I gasp, looking over my shoulder at him.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to escape his caging legs.

He sits down on my ass and pins me. "This is quite the compromising position, isn't it?"

"It's more than compromising , it's uncouth," I say, wiggling to get free, but it's fruitless. I'm sore and weak, but if I'm being honest, there's something comforting in his weight pinning me down.

He leans over me and whispers as he kneads my neck. "Good thing we're husband and wife."

His breath against my cheek sends a shiver down my spine to my core. I can't help the whimper that escapes as he circles a particularly knotted spot where my backpack strap sat all day.

"This feel good, sunshine?" he asks, digging into the painful muscles.

"Yes," I groan thoughtlessly.

"That's what I like to hear." His voice is low and warm, like a summer breeze sliding across my skin. The tension coiling in my stomach triples.

"Relax into me," he says, sliding his hands down my spine.

Everywhere his fingers glide tingles with some unknown force. It's not healing magic…it's something else. It's the same feeling that vibrated all over my body when he held me down on the sandy beach and devoured me. The same feeling when we danced.

Unbidden heat is coiling in my center from the attention just as before. I need to know what it means. I remember the word so clearly despite being in a pleasure-filled haze.

"Ohksano'amai . "

A low-pitched trill vibrates in Jasper's chest and through my entire being.

"Say it again," he rumbles.

"Tell me what it means, and I will," I whisper in a shaky voice.

He groans seductively. "Isn't it more fun when it's a mystery?"

The fire in my heart gutters and dies. I roll to the side and look up at him. "You promised to tell me everything."

The heat in his gaze evaporates. "I did. And I don't like breaking my promises."

"So don't," I say.

He lifts one of his legs and lets me get out from under him. I sit up, keeping my attention on him. I don't want to be left in the dark anymore, not on anything. I've had too much darkness in my life already. Jasper can't be that, too. I need him to be my light.

He drops his chin and rubs the worry lines on his forehead. "What if I make a new promise?"

"Jasper," I say in a warning tone.

"Please, Rei, I'm not ready to tell you this one yet," he says, giving me a desperate look. I keep quiet and let him continue. "You're not ready to hear it, either. Just wait until we take care of things down south, and then on the way home, I'll tell you. I swear on my life."

The way he says home so casually, like my kingdom is already where he belongs, makes my heart squeeze and my stomach flip. This arrangement is just beneficial for us. Despite the desire we're undeniably feeling for one another, this engagement is just something he finds acceptable for the safety of his people. It's not real.

Right?

Whatever those words mean, it's so important to him that he'll promise on his life to wait to tell me. I believe him, though, that I'm not ready. I know it means something important, and I'm not ready to be important…not to him. I'm just a weapon. A tool. And that's something I know how to be.

I lean forward and plant my hands on his knees, getting in real close as my magic glows under my skin and heats my palms. "If you don't tell me the moment we're back from our venture south, I will turn you to ash."

He swallows hard, his gaze bouncing to my lips then back to my eyes. "You won't need to."

I flip around and sit in front of him. "I still have at least five minutes left of a massage."

He huffs in amusement and his hands come back to my shoulders. His touch doesn't give me the same sensation as before. It's kind, and wonderful, but not arousing. It makes me wonder if maybe there could be more than just a marriage of convenience between us one day.

Jasper's hands squeeze my shoulders one more time before his hands slide down my back. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you," I whisper, swallowing down my juvenile thoughts. He craves my body, he's made that very clear, but that's all. I busy myself with organizing my pack while Jasper gets our dinner ready.

"Your cheese sandwich, my lady," he says, handing over a bit of cheese smashed between two slices of bread.

I take it without complaint, as promised, and bite into it. There's a sweet tang that's definitely not the bread, or cheese—at least I hope it isn't. I peel apart the slices to see a smear of orange marmalade on one side.

"What's this?" I ask, knowing full well what it is.

"Oh, just something I traded for," he says, waving away the question nonchalantly.

I see through his false modesty, though. He knows he's done something good. He can tell by the smile that's crept onto my face.

"What did you trade?"

He shrugs. "Just a dance or two with a widow. She saw me the night before and said she wanted to be twirled like that."

A fiery retort rips up my throat, but I douse it on my tongue. "What a good use of your skills."

"So, you're not upset then, wife?" he asks with a shit-eating grin.

I take a massive bite and shake my head, humming a "nuh-uh" as I consider finding this widow and warding her off before she can collect. Maybe trade something else for it, but the audacity of her just to ask for a dance from my hus —

"You're jealous." He beams.

"Am not," I say, my mouth half full.

"You are," he says with a smug puff of his chest.

The closest thing is the map, so I throw it. The parchment flutters toward him but hits the ground before reaching its destination.

He chuckles. "You don't like the thought of me dancing with someone else!"

I growl, throwing a water skein. But he's ready for it and bats the attack away. I reach for the next thing with abandon.

He surges forward, capturing my wrist and jerking me close. His smile is so brilliant it makes my blood boil and my heart melt at the same time. My cheeks are so hot with indignation I might burn myself.

"I traded a pearl," he says.

I yank my arm free and sit back on my heels. "I said I don't care."

"Sure you don't." He takes a bite of his sandwich.

"I don't. It's not as if we're really husband and wife," I retort.

"That doesn't stop you from feeling jealous, though. I like it."

My heart zigzags in my chest at his words. He's just playing with me. He only wants me to be jealous because it's amusing to him.

I shove the rest of the sandwich in my mouth and grab my boots.

"Going somewhere?" he taunts.

"Yes," I say, throwing open the tent flap. I hop into my boots as I speed away from him.

The center of camp is still just as lively as the other night, with two musicians and a large bonfire. Dusk is rolling in, but there's more than enough sunlight left to walk by. I'm not quite sure where I'm going, but I need to do something about this heat under my skin.

Jasper runs up behind me, quietly following. Night birds and crickets sing, and bugs land on my humid skin. I slap them away as I tromp through the steadily growing brush. Why hasn't he turned back? Why hasn't he said something?

I whirl around at the edge of the forest. "You're going to watch me take care of my business, then?"

The light in his eyes dances with amusement. "That's not what you're doing."

"Well, you're about to be very unhappy with your decision to follow me," I say as I turn back for the woods.

The trees are tall and vibrant, even in the dim light. Their leaves are all shades of green and many of the branches have flowering fruit. If not for the annoying bugs—Jasper included—this place would be paradise.

Finally, I find what I'm looking for: a small clearing with a large boulder. The perfect target for my rage. It won't start a forest fire, and I can let loose on it.

I stop a good way back and Jasper stops a few feet behind me. I lift my arm and open my palm, focusing on my power. My eyes train on a pockmark on the side of the boulder. It's chipped in a way that looks like someone else used it for target practice.

Blue magic culminates in my palm but inks out in bits and spurts without control. I grit my teeth and clamp down on keeping it inside. I'm so good at keeping it in, but letting it out on command, that's always been a problem.

I redouble my focus, but I can feel Jasper's judgmental eyes on my back. His eyes don't matter. There are always going to be people watching me, judging me. I'm going to be the queen of Fynren; I'll have to perform under scrutiny.

My heart thunders in my ear as the pressure in my palm grows. I open the floodgate, and all at once, blue fire bursts out in a wide cone. I cut off the fire with a curse and stomp on the singed grass that was in its path.

I sense Jasper's presence get closer behind me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I shrug him off with a glare.

"Stop being a brat and let me help you," he says sternly.

"You know, I'm only a brat around you."

He grins. "Good, because you're my brat."

Something settles in the pit of my stomach and pulls, like an invisible string yanking me toward him. I grit my teeth and ignore it.

"I am not—"

"You are my wife . You proposed to me, and I accepted, so that makes you my brat , too . Now, let me help."

His words have embers burning in my chest that feel more like safety than rage. But of course, he wants my powers strong. He needs my help to kill the false king who has his people. Vansen. No reason to feel fluttery embers because they're all fake.

He takes my silence as consent and moves forward. He turns me toward the boulder, his chest pressed against my back as he moves me. His arm slides down my left side to my leg and my heart thunders. I wish it was in defiance, but it's something else that makes it beat so loudly.

His foot presses into the side of mine, keeping it in place. He lifts my right arm, hand open, then has me grab my wrist with my left hand. His fingers trail along the inside of my forearm to my elbow. I refuse to shiver from the sensation.

"Put a little bend here so when the blast comes out, you won't shatter something."

I sigh dramatically and do as he says.

"Now, close your eyes."

"I need to see my target."

"Close." He drags his fingers over my eyebrows and across my eyelids, pulling them down. The feather-light touch on my face has my center aching.

"Deep breath in. Imagine your body is full of rivers flowing away from your chest and every breath you take sends blue fire rolling through your body."

"This is silly," I say, captivated by his warm chest expanding behind me.

"It's not silly. This is how I shapeshift. I imagine when I breathe, I'm filling my body with the shape I want to take, and then I do."

"Why is it going to work for me?"

"Breathe in deep and try , sunshine," he says patiently.

I take a deep breath and envision my chest is a raging hearth. My arms and legs are chimneys that can direct the flow of heat. The fire blazes brightly as my lungs fill up.

"Now, push it down your right arm," he says.

I command the fire to surge down my arm and I open the chimney chute of my palm just a little. A pinprick of heat sears my palm and my eyes fly open to see the narrow beam blast into the boulder. Shards of black rock fly away and land all around us. The divot is now a sizable crater with a warm, glowing center.

"You'll be absolutely lethal," he says, his voice filled with desire, and maybe even a little pride.

I swallow that thought and try to find my anger. "Better watch yourself. You're just one moment away from being on the other end of it." My words come out soft, unthreatening, teasing.

Jasper's smile warms the tip of my ear. "Again."