Текст книги "Between Tides & Thunder"

Автор книги: Lena Kazak

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE COOL NIGHT AIR soothes my burning skin as I dart between trees. Zevayr’s footsteps thud behind me, but I’m faster than him.

“Mayah!” he calls. His voice isn’t loud, swallowed by the sounds of the forest, but still, he’s closer than I expected.

I need to hide until he leaves. And then find someone to help me rid this ache between my thighs before it consumes me. Branches scrape my arms as I duck behind a thick tangle of underbrush, kneeling in the dirt. Not even two minutes pass before Zev strides through, head swiveling as he searches for me.

I hold my breath.

I don’t make a sound.

Through the leaves, I catch glimpses of him moving between the branches.

Minutes drag by. Then he’s out of sight.

Finally.

I rise to my feet and—

–yelp as rough hands haul me out from behind the bushes. Limbs flailing, I try to wrench out of his grasp, but his grip is iron-tight.

“Let me go!” I shout. The words barely escape before his hand clamps roughly over my mouth.

“Do you want the rebels to find us?” he whisper-yells at me. His eyes are lethal. “Let’s go.”

I jerk my head back, fighting against his hold. “I do want the rebels to find me. Maybe one of them will help me. Or two or three, it doesn’t matter, they can take turns or have me all together or—”

Zev growls, his grip tightening on my upper arms. He’s hurting me, and I’m about to shout at him again when his hold loosens.

“All right, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and deep. “All right, I’ll help you.”

I shake my head.

I don’t believe him.

One large hand presses me against his body, while the other grips my chin, tilting my face toward his.

“You don’t want any rebels, do you, baby?”

Tides, he’s intoxicating, him and his deep, gravelly voice.

His thumb drags over my lips, and I’m in danger of melting into a puddle. Dazed, I shake my head.

“That’s right,” he whispers huskily. “You want me. You’re aching for me. That need inside you? That’s my power trying to get back to me.”

His voice is like honey, and I can taste its sweetness on my tongue.

“Let me take you back to camp and make you feel better.” His hand slides down my neck, fingers grazing my clavicle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, nodding frantically.

“Good girl,” he croons, and another rush of searing warmth pools between my legs. Tides, yes, I want to be his good girl.

I climb him like a tree, arms twined around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, face buried in his shoulder. His smoke-and-pine scent coils around me, and the ache eases just slightly.

Zev walks us back, fingers digging painfully into my thighs as he clutches me to him, but I don’t care. I lean my face toward his, trying to capture his lips with mine, but he tilts his head out of reach, his gaze fixed firmly on the path ahead.

Undeterred, I trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, scraping my teeth against his skin. He swallows hard, his throat shifting beneath my lips. My hips grind against him, my center rubbing against the ridges of his abdomen.

“Are we there yet?” I whisper in his ear, my teeth nipping his lobe.

“Almost, baby,” he rasps, his voice ragged. “Almost.”

“I’ve pictured it a thousand times at night, you know. When I’m beside you under your tidesdamned cloak,” I breathe against the salty skin of his neck. “That you’d reach over and touch me. Taste me. Take me.”

Zev makes a sound that sounds like he’s dying.

Minutes later, we’re back at camp, and Zev sets me down. I sprawl across the blanket, legs spread wide in invitation. His dark gaze is hooded as he stares down at me, belt jingling as he unbuckles it.

“Face down, baby.” His voice is hoarse as he tugs his belt loose.

I roll onto my stomach, cheek pressed into the blanket, bracing myself on my forearms, ass in the air. “Like this, Zev?”

“Yeah.” His voice is a guttural groan. “Just like that.”

And then, his weight settles on top of me.

It feels so mind-numbingly right, I nearly cry. A loud, panting moan escapes my parted lips.

I’m eager.

I’m ready.

His hands smooth over my hair, gliding down my back and skimming my sides. I squirm beneath him in anticipation.

“Zev.” His name is a prayer, a plea.

His fingers trace long lines down my arms, and I reach behind me, desperate to touch him. He gathers my wrists in his large palm, his breath hot in my ear.

“You’re driving me insane, Mayah,” he growls. He spits my name like a curse.

And then his weight on me is gone.

I try to reach for him, but I can’t move my arms.

“Wha—”

He holds my ankles together tightly, binding them with rope.

“Zev, what the fuck?” I snap. I writhe on the floor, managing to roll over and face him.

He’s a towering mountain of rage, chest heaving, tendons bulging, eyes flashing. “I’m just a man, Mayah. I only have so much restraint.” His voice is low, angry. “You are not going to say another word. You are not going to make another sound. You are going to sleep. Skies help me, don’t make me gag you.”

Tears prick my eyes. I want to scream. He’s so tidescursed selfish.

I can convince him. I need to convince him. He’s so close to breaking, I can taste it.

“I’m a virgin, Zev,” I whisper huskily. “You can be the first to—”

A pained, guttural growl claws from his throat. He stalks over to me and violently tears off a strip from the blanket. His eyes are wild, but his hands are gentle as he presses the cloth between my teeth and winds it behind my head. His fingers tremble as he ties the knot—too tight, then too loose, then too tight again. He curses softly under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says, when it’s done, dragging a hand through his hair. Tears stream down my cheeks as he tucks his cloak over me. He swallows hard, once, twice, then rises and sits a few paces away.

I fall asleep tied up and gagged, with the taste of rejection on my tongue and the heat of desire pulsing in my veins.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I ’M IN MY BEDROOM in Tundrayn—ice-white walls, heavy furs thrown over fevered skin. There’s an ache, an unbearable ache seizing my body. A breathy moan escapes my parted lips.

I’m not alone.

The scrape of stubble on my thighs, calloused hands spreading my legs.

Hot kisses on hotter skin. A nimble, searching tongue.

A quick swipe through pooled slick—too soft, too light. I need more.

My back arches, a desperate mewl echoing in the cold room.

A low, sinful chuckle. Another decadent kiss.

“Is this what you want, baby?” a gravel-rough voice rasps, and I know, I just know, he smells of smoke and pine.

A searing trail kissed up my belly, between my breasts, teeth nipping my fluttering pulse.

Warm breath fanning my neck, fingers skimming heaving ribs.

Too little. Too much. Not enough.

All I know is I’m empty. I’m so empty.

Muscled arms braced on either side of my head, stormy gray eyes dark with desire.

“Say it, Mayah,” he commands, his nose nudging mine.

I’ll say whatever he wants. Do whatever he demands.

“Zev.” His name is a plea, a prayer. “Zev, please.”

Wanton. Desperate.

His weight presses down, covering me—he’s hard everywhere I’m soft, and I’m ready, I’m—

Sunlight warms my face, chasing away the remnants of blissful sleep. I shift slightly, and my thighs slide together, an embarrassing amount of wetness pooled between them. The hazy dream flickers through my mind, and my face warms even more.

I try to sit up, but I can’t. My mouth is painfully dry.

I’m tied up.

“What—” My voice is hoarse and raspy, like I’ve swallowed broken glass. I try to move, but I’m unbalanced with my hands bound behind my back. Awareness slowly trickles in, anger quick to follow. “Untie me right now!”

“Are you feeling like yourself?” Zevayr asks, restrained amusement coloring his tone. He’s sitting a few feet away, watching me closely.

I’m about to curse him and his ancestors when my gaze snags on his neck—dark red bruises stark against his skin.

Ones I’d sucked into his flesh with my lips and teeth.

Last night’s events crash back into me with the force of a tsunami.

Tides drown me. Tides sweep me away into cold, unforgiving depths. Tides flood my lungs and make me yours.

It would be a mercy.

My face burns with humiliation.

The things I did—the things I said.

“I’ll take your reddening face as a yes.” Zevayr strides over and unties his belt from my wrists, then removes the rope from my ankles.

His hands linger as he massages circulation back into my wrists. There’s a quiet tension in his jaw, and his eyes are shadowed, like he didn’t sleep at all.

“I removed the gag after you fell asleep,” he explains, an apology in his tone.

I can’t meet his gaze.

Wordlessly, I rise and eat my breakfast in silence.

Tides, how will I ever face him again?

If only we had an earthwielder with us. He could split the ground beneath me and let the earth swallow me whole. Maybe I should ask Zevayr to incinerate me with lightning. Maybe if I try hard enough, I could stop my own heart. Or maybe if we find a stream—

Zevayr clears his throat, dancing eyes lingering on my warm cheeks. “Remember when I said I had shared my power before? It was one of my soldiers—a powerful earthwielder. We were running low on food, all our reserves near drained. Normally, he could grow an entire field—carrots, potatoes, berries—ready to harvest, in about an hour.

“But he’d been injured in the last battle and hadn’t fully recovered. So I channeled some of my power into him. And he grew enough food for two battalions in thirty minutes. But afterward…” Zevayr chuckles. “It took eight men to restrain him. He kept trying to sneak into my tent.”

I want to scowl. Or crawl into a hole and never emerge. But when Zevayr says, “he kept trying to sneak into my tent,” I lose it. A startled laugh bursts from my lips.

Zevayr grins, bright and unguarded.

“What did you do?” I ask, still giggling.

“He injured his guards with his wielding. After that, we used valerian root to sedate him. His wife still lords it over him.”

Another laugh escapes me, and he smiles broadly, as if the sound brings him joy. “You didn’t try half as hard as he did. I’m a little offended, if I’m being honest.”

Tears stream down my cheeks from laughter. Zevayr just watches me, eyes bright, his lips curved in a half-smile.

When my laughter subsides, a question lingers on my tongue. I quietly ask, “That couple I told you about, the one caught power sharing … they were just, they—” My face flushes, and I can’t finish my sentence, but Zevayr understands anyway.

“I’ve known couples who power share for … recreational purposes.”

“Have you ever done it?” The words escape before I can cage them.

He shakes his head. “It takes a great deal of trust.” Something soft flickers behind his eyes. “It’s not something I’ve found yet.”

We sit in silence before I can summon the words.

“Thank you.” He arches a brow. “For saving my life. I would’ve died if you hadn’t shared your power with me.” I cut my gaze away. “And … for not taking advantage of me last night. I know I didn’t make it easy on you.” My eyes linger on the love bites lining his neck. “And for your kindness about it now.”

He doesn’t say anything for several heartbeats, his gray eyes just studying me with something akin to wonder. Then slowly, his lips curve into a soft, genuine smile.

We’re packing up camp when he says, “You called me Zev last night.”

I freeze. That’s what his friend had called him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I liked it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It reminded me that … maybe I’m still someone worth trusting.”

My chest squeezes tight.

“So, yeah,” he continues, eyes flicking to mine. “You can call me Zev. If you want.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ZEV AND I TRAVEL for another week. We’re mere days from the Arbinji army base, and the thought fills me with trepidation.

Everything will change.

I will be wed.

There will be peace.

But my resolve doesn’t feel as strong as it did when I left Tundrayn. I glance sideways at Zev, walking beside me.

I pretend I don’t know why.

“What will the wedding be like?” I ask that night after we’ve eaten.

“Opulent. Majestic. A bit boring, honestly.” The firelight casts long shadows across his cheekbones.

I roll my eyes. “I mean the ceremony itself. What do I have to do?”

“Walk down an aisle. Say a few vows. Promise to act in the best interests of Arbinj.” He thinks for a minute, eyes scrunched. “And there’s a dance at the reception.”

“Dance?”

He glances at me. “Yeah. Ballroom dance?”

I stare at him blankly. An owl hoots somewhere in the trees.

“You don’t have dancing in Tundrayn?”

“We have dancing,” I huff, crossing my arms. “The drum dance.” He arches a brow. “Lots of swaying? Stamping in time with drum beats? Swaying hips?”

His lips quirk. “There’s no stamping in a ballroom dance.”

I bite my lip, brows furrowing.

He rises to his feet, dusting off his pants before offering me his hand. “Here, I’ll show you. It’s easy.”

His smile is soft, and a warmth fizzles inside me that has nothing to do with the crackling fire. This is a horrible idea—whatever this is—but I don’t want it to stop.

Still, I don’t move, and he clasps my hand and tugs me to my feet.

“Zev, there’s no music,” I laugh.

He looks so happy, a wide smile brightening his face. I don’t want to dim the glow in his eyes.

“We’ll manage,” he murmurs. He positions my hand on his shoulder, while his finds the curve of my waist. With his other hand, he intertwines our fingers, raising our joined hands in the cool night air. “Just follow my lead. Step when I step.”

He’s a natural, swaying me effortlessly to a rhythm I can’t match.

“You’re very good,” I breathe. His molten gray gaze snares my own, and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. Something warm and tender and right wells in my chest. Something dangerous.

“My mother taught me.”

While Zev glides across the ground, I … well, stamp. On his feet. Several times.

After the third time, he whispers, “Come up onto my feet, Mayah.”

“No, I—”

His hands bracket my waist, lifting me until I’m balanced precariously on his boots. His soft smile clouds my reservations. My hands wind around his neck, chest brushing against his with every breath.

And just like that, we dance. The world falls away, and it’s only the two of us, beneath the light of the moon, dancing to the music of rustling leaves and the gentle whisper of wind.

Zev’s gaze stays locked on mine, lit with something that looks achingly like longing. He leans in, slow and measured, until only inches separate us. His eyes drop to my lips—lingering—then rise again to meet mine, dark with intent.

“Mayah…” He whispers my name like I’m his salvation.

And I’m weak, Tides, I’m weak. My resolve crumbles.

I cradle his face in my palm. His eyes flutter shut. He covers my hand with his own, pressing it tighter to his skin, graceful fingers trailing over mine. The way he touches me—soft, almost trembling—feels like worship, like he’s terrified I’ll vanish. For one fragile heartbeat, I let myself believe this could be real.

But then his body tenses.

He peels my hand from his cheek, lifting it into the moonlight.

The moment shatters with the gleam of black diamond.

He drops my hand like it burned him, and the heated space between us turns glacial. A veil falls over Zev’s eyes, and any softness I may have imagined evaporates.

He pulls away. It hurts more than it should. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

“I think you’re ready for the dance.” Another pang in my chest.

We prepare for sleep in silence, but Zev settles down on the other side of the blanket. Away from me.

“It’s warm enough now that we can sleep apart,” he says with his back turned. It pierces my heart like an ice shard.

I lie there, feeling more alone since we left Tundrayn.

“Is your brother a good man?” I whisper into the dark.

A beat passes.

“No.” His voice is hollow. “But neither am I.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WE’LL REACH THE ARBINJI base tomorrow. Leaves crunch underfoot as I walk, and my legs ache, but for once, I ignore the dull soreness. I don’t want to waste my reserves healing them. I need to be prepared in case we encounter more rebels—or if the Arbinji soldiers don’t greet me as warmly as Zev expects.

Zev.

My eyes find his silhouette, walking ahead of me. Since the night we danced beneath the moonlight, he’s been closed off and distant.

I can’t blame him.

It’s cinched around me, too, this tether between us, but I suspect it has a tighter hold on him. He’s wise to guard his heart. I need to do the same.

My purpose is my armor, and I can’t let whatever this is—what I feel for him—be the crack that shatters it. Peace for Tundrayn must come first. We’ve suffered too much. My fingers clamp around my mother’s teardrop pendant.

I’ve suffered too much.

When we stop to eat and rest, Zev won’t meet my eyes. His silence shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I should let him be, but I can’t cage my words or the annoyance that coats them. I don’t know if I’m more annoyed with him or myself for caring.

“Are you going to ignore me the rest of the way?”

He looses a deep sigh, his mouth twisting with displeasure.

“Look, the other night. The dance. It—” The words die on my tongue. It didn’t mean anything, I almost said, but it’s a lie.

And he deserves more than that.

“We can still be friends?” I offer instead. His shoulders stiffen. “After the wedding. We’ll be … family.”

That’s why he’s upset, isn’t it?

Because I’m going to marry his brother.

In my heart, I know he doesn’t want me to.

Tides, I don’t want to.

But I must.

I didn’t risk everything, leave my home and my people behind, only to fail them now.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, his voice low, eyes riveted to the ground. “And you’ll hate me for it.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already hate you.” I smile brightly, but my teasing words don’t have the effect I hoped.

He doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and shatters my heart.

“Your friends. Sura and Tumaas. I killed them.”

I blink.

For a minute, I just stare at him, mouth parted.

Then, the ground shifts beneath my feet. No—it’s my legs buckling. My knees hit the cold earth. Nausea churns in my stomach like the roiling sea. My powers flicker inside me, wanting to hurt, wanting to heal.

I killed them.

I killed them.

I killed them.

His words bludgeon my conscience, rattling in my skull.

I don’t know why I’m shocked. I’ve already blamed him for the death of every Tundrayni in the war—the faceless, infamous Dark Commander, bringer of storms and blood and death.

But now that I’ve grown to care for him, to hear him say the words—I killed them—it’s as if he’s rent my soul in half. And the way he’s looking at me now, anguished gray eyes shadowed with remorse, somehow makes it hurt worse.

He’s not the cold, ruthless killer I always imagined.

He’s known loss, too.

My eyes fall to his hands—steady, strong, careful—and imagine them wreathed in lightning, raised against my friends.

Soft-hearted Tumaas.

Radiant, kind Sura.

I want to lash out. I want to scream.

But I do neither.

“How?” My voice is a low rasp.

He swallows hard. “It was after the battle where Lev was killed. I remained at his side until he died, and … Mayah, it broke me. I had never felt such fury. I never did again until…” He inhales shakily as if gathering strength. “I—I went alone. Followed that battalion back to their camp. And I obliterated it.”

There’s a vise squeezing my lungs.

“Did you kill them the way you did the rebels?” I whisper.

Did Sura and Tumaas suffer? Or were their lives snuffed out in seconds?

“Some,” he admits, his voice thick. “But I couldn’t summon that much power for everyone. I called down lightning.” His gaze cuts away. “I still dream of that night sometimes. The screams. The smell.”

I don’t know what to say to this remorseful man before me. I swallow thickly, tears pricking my eyes.

“Did you regret it?”

“A little. But not truly, not until you told me your friends had been there. Now, I wish with every fragment of my broken soul that I could go back and spare you the pain I caused.”

My throat is tight, face wet with tears. I hate that he looks so broken. So anguished. I try to summon loathing—but it doesn’t come. He burned through my hatred ages ago. Now, grief rages in the hollow he’s dug.

“I can’t—I can’t look at you right now,” I rasp. I rise on shaky feet and walk away.

Behind me, our bags rustle as he scoops them up. His footsteps fall a few paces back, leaving enough space between us for my grief.

I don’t turn around.

We pass the day in utter silence. Zev lets me work through my feelings about his revelation—that he murdered my best friends in a rage-induced attack.

At first, it’s fury. Cold and unrelenting. Their faces haunt my thoughts—Sura’s lopsided grin, Tumaas’s warm eyes—then I blink, and their skin is blistered, scorched. Lifeless.

And I see Zevayr looming over them. Not the man I know now, but the Dark Commander—jaw set, brutal lightning heeding his call.

But the cruelest thing?

As much as I try to hate him, my heart melts the anger away before it crystallizes. Because he knows what it’s like, too. He knows what it’s like to lose someone he loves. He’s not the monster I desperately want him to be. Need him to be. He’s just like me. That’s what makes it so hard to hate him.

Because I can’t.

I don’t.

Now, we sit across the fire, the sky inky above us. There’s a gaping, hollow void in my chest. An aching sadness seeps through my numb limbs, and I realize it’s for him. For his loss. For what he’s endured. Alone.

What is wrong with me?

But my heart protests the haunted look in his eyes, the tightness lining his mouth. I’m overcome by the urge to soothe.

I’ve lost too much. So has he.

“Zev,” I say softly, and his eyes find mine like they’ve been waiting. The stiff line of his shoulders eases ever so slightly

“I should hate you.” The words rasp out of me. “Tides, I want to.”

He flinches.

“But I don’t,” I whisper. “I hate what this war has done to us. All of us. So much suffering. So much loss. It’s why—it’s why I have to do this. It’s why I need to marry your brother.”

It’s his turn to swallow hard, tension returning to his shoulders. He nods stiffly.

We sleep on separate sides of the blanket.