35. Mira

thirty-five

Mira

Later that evening, finding the only man in this place that I'm not bonded to would be hard if he wasn't so predictable. When he's not in his usual spot in his study, I know he's in his room.

I know where it is, but I've never been inside it before. A knot of nerves builds in my chest as I approach the closed door. The last time I did this, I ended up bonding Callum. I find his thread in my mind and realize it feels a little underdone. Maybe we bonded too soon. We haven't had much time together lately. I've barely talked with him alone at all since it happened. It's like he's pulling away from me.

I make a mental note to find him tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door without knocking so he can't turn me away.

I'm instantly struck by how small his room is. Tiny, even.

There are no windows or an open balcony. No rich mahogany furniture or marble floors. It's barely larger than the dungeon cells. The same stone encases the room, a small bed is shoved against the wall, and an old desk and chair sit opposite, where Tairyn is shirtless, hunched over reading something.

His bare back is carved with surprising muscle as he turns to spy me standing with mouth agape in his doorframe. His brow flickers with questions, but he nods his head to the door.

"Come in."

There's no hint of sarcasm or annoyance, despite my intrusion. I lick my lips nervously, taking the moment to close the door and gather my thoughts. When I turn back around, he's standing with arms crossed over his bare chest, leaning against his desk looking at me with an appraising gaze.

A hint of concern laces his voice as he says my name. Questioning. As if to ask, Why did you come here?

His words from dinner reverberate through my mind, like the striking of a gong. The echoes seem to linger and bounce around in my skull, taunting me with their meaning. It is not the first time that they have resurfaced, but this time they carry an added weight, as if they are trying to be heard above the chaos of warring thoughts in my head. His words are like a puzzle piece that I can't fit into place, no matter how hard I try.

You aren't worthy of being her mate.

I haven't had a chance to discuss the lunch incident with Bobble or Sunder yet, but I know they'll show up in my room tonight. One night apart was enough for all of us.

"What's wrong?" he asks out loud this time. His steps are measured as he approaches me, eyes scanning my face and body. Not in the usual way a man would eye a woman randomly showing up in their bedroom at night, though. This is different.

My brain is frozen, watching him.

He closes the distance between us, his worried gaze never leaving mine. His outstretched arms hesitate, unsure of what to do, before finally falling back to his side. Every muscle in his body is tense, and I can see the weight of it all in the furrow of his brow and the slight trembling of his fingers. The air is thick with unspoken words. It's as if time has slowed down, allowing us to fully take in each moment before it slips away like clouds in the breeze.

My mind stumbles for a moment, trying to remember why I came.

"I just don't understand why you have to provoke Sunder and the others so much."

The tension bleeds from his body as he lets out a tired sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he turns to walk back to his chair. In that subtle movement, he reminds me of Sunder. But it's fleeting. He turns back around and leans against his desk, eyes back to their resting state of cold and distant.

"If you're here to tell me to play nice, consider the message received."

I cross my arms over my chest, shielding myself from his harsh tone. I almost turn to leave. Clearly, he doesn't want me here.

But then I remember that moment we shared in his study, when he admitted he tried to save me. The bruises on his face, the cuts, are completely gone now. He's still shielded, so I have to assume Bobble has been treating him.

A part of me is compelled to console him and show him that he is not invisible. Another part of me wants to smack some sense into him. A third, expanding part of me desires to provoke him until he loses his composure again. I wonder how different that spanking would go now that we've gotten to know each other. I swallow that thought before it takes over.

"Tairyn." Even I'm surprised at the tenderness in which his name leaves my lips. His gaze locks to mine, softening ever so slightly, as I take a cautious step towards him.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I cautiously reach out to touch his arm under his watchful gaze. I'm pretty sure neither of us is breathing.

His bicep is like a burning coal beneath my trembling fingers. I force myself to lift my gaze back up to his piercing stare, feeling immediately overwhelmed by the intensity and power emanating from him, despite Sunder's shield around him. I wonder if he could break out of it if he tried. My heart races with a mix of fear and desire as I try to steady my nerves and meet his unwavering gaze.

"What are you doing?" he asks, breathless.

I stifle a gasp. Abort. Abort.

Shaking my head, I yank my hand away as if burned on a hot stove, turning to leave. Stupid. Shame floods my body, causing my skin to flush with a burning heat. I've misread everything between us.

Tairyn's hand grips my shoulder, spinning me back to face him. Our bodies collide with a sharp jolt and he traps me in his intense gaze. With a finger under my chin, he tilts my head up, demanding the truth. His eyes bore into mine with a fierce intensity as he growls, "Why did you come here, Mira? Tell me the truth."

I pull my face from his hand, refusing to make eye contact. "It's nothing. I-I'm sorry."

I turn to walk away, feeling as rejected as a teenage girl whose crush has turned her down. But before I can make it across the room, he speaks so softly that I have to strain my ears to hear him.

"I asked the Gods to break my bonded bargain with Yurghen, after I realized what he truly demanded of me. Their response was essentially to laugh at my stupidity. I can't say they're wrong."

His words hang in the air, making me stop dead in my tracks. I turn slowly, my hazel eyes meeting his green ones in a silent exchange. His words are a confession, a spilling of secrets that he would usually tuck neatly away. This vulnerability is foreign on him, a stark contrast to the arrogant man I've come to know and, dare I admit it, appreciate.

My voice comes out as a whisper, curiosity defeating my embarrassment. "What did Yurghen demand of you?"

He swallows, running a hand through his perfectly groomed hair. It leaves a few strands sticking up in a way that's endearingly disheveled. His eyes dart away from mine, as if he's afraid of what I might see in them.

"Everything," he says finally, his voice filled with a deep-seated bitterness that makes my throat tighten. "He demanded everything of me."

My heart skips a beat at the raw pain in his voice. "But you got your Chroma back."

"A purple curse that gives little and takes much. These visions…"

"Are they bad?" I find myself moving towards him, the magnetic pull too strong to resist. The room is suddenly too tight, the air too thin.

He nods stiffly, his face a mask of pain and defeat. "They're overwhelming. I had one about you. The night you first cast misfortune on me."

His eyes are far away, as if remembering. I think back to the way he scrambled away from me, crawling on the floor with eyes glazed over. The pain twisted on his face. "What was it?"

His weight shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. "It was many things. Many outcomes. I don't know which decisions will take me where. But I know who I want to get there with. For now, though, I think we both could use some rest."

His eyes, usually guarded and distant, meet mine once again. But this time, there is a glimmer of something new shining within their depths. It's a feeling I've never seen before in him, but it sends my heart into a frenzy of fluttering anticipation.

I murmur out some words that sound something like good night as I see myself out.

He is a flame flickering in the dark.

And I am but a moth, helpless against him.