by J. Kearston
Dipping my head below, I stay beneath the surface until my lungs scream for mercy, then push for a few seconds more. When fresh air blasts against my face and I suck down a gasping breath, the air seems cooler, lighter.
It isn’t as hard to breathe anymore.
The heat seeps into my sore muscles, only the sound of trickling water and the rustle of leaves shifting in the breeze to keep me company. I mocked Lucien for this, for fighting for peace and quiet in a world that thrived on chaos. I know I’m a hypocrite, an asshole. But I’m just so tired.
I feel her before I see her, a small tug on the back of my hand drawing me in her direction like she’s testing the connection to see if it’s still intact. She says nothing, scuffing slightly against the stone as she sits a good distance away.
Another breath, but it still isn’t as hard as it was in that crowd. Like a coward, I keep my eyes shut, avoiding the inevitable conversation. Once more, I slip beneath the water, and when I come up, braced to face her, she’s gone, as silently as she arrived.
Swiping water from my face, I glance around, but it’s just me; as alone as I wanted to be. There’s a small splash of water and I work my way to the edge of the spring, glancing down where the water runs from this pool to the one beneath. There, a good twenty feet below me, is Cambria.
I rest my chin on my folded arms on the stone ledge, kneeling and simply waiting. For what, I’m not sure. It’s entrancing though, the way the orange tints the water as she dips her head beneath the surface. It ripples out in rings before distorting with the slow current, a bright arrow following the path of the water like it’s trying to give us a sign.
Everything else is lit by that bluish glow; the water, the canopy of leaves, the tree trunks surrounding us. And directly overhead, the starry night, dotted so intensely that it may as well be a silver sky.
Minutes, hours; there’s no sense of the time that passes, but it ticks by in amicable silence. After she’s clean, she simply dons a similar pose as me, though she faces the forest to my left, giving me her profile instead of her back. The golden tips of her hair fan out on the water, bobbing with the gentle motion of the water, as hypnotic as the girl in front of me.
“Are you going to say anything?”
She rests her cheek on her arms, casually looking up at me. “Wasn’t sure what to apologize for, if we’re being honest, and thought I might make things worse. So was waiting to pick up on some sort of clue as to why you’re mad at me so I can fix it.”
I exhale a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you.”
Patiently, she waits for me to elaborate, but the words stick in my throat and I choke. When it’s clear that I’m not about to say anything else, she gently asks, “Company or solutions?”
Blinking down at her, she shrugs a single shoulder. “When I’m upset, I don’t always have anything that needs fixed. I just want to be miserable for a while, bitch about it, and have someone to commiserate with so I’m not alone. So do you want to vent, or do you want someone to try to solve whatever problem is weighing on your mind?”
Gazing down at this girl, I feel like a real jackass. It’s easy to forget between her age and appearance, that the smiles and sarcasm are just a different form of glamour. All that projected self-confidence, scoffing at people so that they don’t realize their words affect her more than she lets on; a coping mechanism for someone convinced that she’s more broken than the rest of us.
“Both?”
She nods, gesturing with one hand for me to give her something, anything to work with here. A place to start if nothing else, and yet every word that comes to mind feels wrong. They die on my tongue before I can voice them, struggling to voice things that don’t sound as pathetic as I feel.
She takes mercy on me and tries to give me a jump. “So you’re not mad at me. Is it something I did that upset you, but you’re trying not to hold it against me?” A shake of my head and she nods to herself. “You and Luce get into a lovers’ quarrel?”
My lip twitches. “It was hard, being apart from you guys. On both of us.”
Pushing away from the edge, she submerges herself up to her chin to warm up her shoulders. “And now that we’re back?”
Swallowing, I force the admission into existence. “It was hard being apart, but it’s harder being together, sometimes.”
I pretend that the flash of hurt that crosses her face is just a trick of the moonlight, there and gone in an instant. She licks her lips, treading water as she moves to the center of the pool. “Fair. If it was a rough adjustment for me after growing up with this sort of thing as normal, I can imagine it’s far more difficult on your end. Going from independent to living with three other people, never alone anymore. Three relationships to balance, triple the issues to handle.”
“Of figuring out where you fit into things when they’re constantly shifting as soon as you get comfortable.”
Her silver eyes flash, looking like a predator in the dark. “Why do you need a defined role?”
My spine stiffens. “Lucien’s a fae, like you. Funds the whole damn family. And Dorian...he makes you happy. He understands what you need before any of us, has a better radar for all things Cambria, and is the geeky glue that keeps us together. You already have everything you need between the two of them, so why the fuck am I even here?”
The words come out harsher than I intended, and my apology is already half out of my mouth for snapping at her when she cuts me off. “Would you feel better if I gave you a title?”
I laugh, but when she doesn’t, I realize that she’s dead serious. My mouth presses into a thin line while she lifts an eyebrow in challenge, waiting.
“If you’re just here to mock me, I’d rather be alone.”
She turns, swimming to the edge of the spring and hauling herself out, walking away without so much as grabbing her clothes. I turn my back on the pool beneath, leaning against the stone wall and shutting my eyes, trying to steady my breathing.
Everything’s heated, too hot, stifling. My eyes blink open as a splash sends water lapping at my neck, only to find a furious Cambria a few feet away, glaring at me in the water.
“Do you think so little of me? That I’m such a bitch, I’d come here to taunt you when something was obviously wrong?” Her cheeks tint red as she swims closer, passing the deepest point in the center of the stone basin and walking along the bottom to get into my face, water brushing against her collar as she nears.
I rise to my full height, narrowing my eyes as I grit out, “No.”
Her features are still twisted with indignant rage. “You can be sad. You can be upset and wallow if that’s what you need right now. But you don’t get to be a jackass.” She stops right in front of me, those eyes full of fire like I’ve never seen in her, her irises swirling like they’re made of storm clouds rather than the liquid mercury that’s been haunting my dreams for days, weeks. “You taught me that I deserved better than that, and you don’t get to just take it back when it suits you. So fuck you, and the high horse you rode in on.”
I capture her mouth with a snarl, palming the back of her head and tangling my fingers in her hair. Barely contained anger flows through my veins, each one of my heavy, rapid heartbeats pushing it farther, faster, until it burns away everything else. There’s no room for self-pity, not amongst the flames licking beneath my flesh.
Her nails dig into my shoulder and side, hard enough that they pierce skin. Forcing myself to pull back, her grip tightens, not letting me retreat, digging her claws into my fevered flesh. “You’re the one that actually sees me. The one that’s willing to say to hell with the consequences, to do what needs to be done even if it’s hard. You push me and push me, past my breaking point, then smack me with perspective. You wake me up when all I want to do is shut down and sleep, pull me from that black hole that’s always there, threatening to swallow me whole. It’s everything to me, so why does it mean nothing to you?”
That heavy weight that’s been suffocating me tu
rns to ash. There’s no room to feel anything beyond the burning heat, consuming everything in its path until all I can feel is her, coaxing that flicker of life that was nearly snuffed out into an inferno.
My words are little more than a whisper, breathing nearly impossible. “I didn’t know.”
She doesn’t back down, those eyes still hard as steel, threatening to flay the flesh from my bones. “No, you knew. You just didn’t think it was enough.”
My lips part to object, but she’s right. I press them back into a grim line.
“You’re enough, Atlas. Just you. No roles, no fancy titles. I don’t care about what you can do for me; I just want you to love me.” An angry tear slips down her face and I palm her heated cheek, reverently stroking my thumb to carefully brush it away. “Do you seriously think that you’re the only one of us that struggles with insecurities? We all need to feel needed. Important.” She releases a shaky breath, reining in her temper. “And I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to remind you that you are.”
Slower this time, I lean in to kiss her. Everything’s raw, stripped bare for judgment and exposed. She burns it all; every dark thought, the loneliness and self-deprecation eating away at me. I’m no different than the wasteland when she’s done with me.
And from those ashes rises someone stronger. Maybe not better, and definitely not remarkable, but someone with purpose. Someone that makes the conscious decision to stop looking at everything he’s not, and start acknowledging everything that he already is.
Cupping her jaw, I tilt her head, tongue swiping past her lips. My knuckles trace a slow path from the column of her throat to between her breasts. Lower, every movement slow and controlled, I feel her stomach quiver beneath the gentle touch. The water does nothing to lessen the feeling, and when I slip my hand between her legs, she jerks against me.
“Do you want me to stop?” I murmur against her lips, toying with her, reveling in her shudders, but don’t push for more. I was a real ass, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she pushed me over the side of this spring for having the audacity.
“I must have missed quite a bit for you to be asking such a stupid question.”
With a growl, I bite her lower lip the same moment I sink two fingers inside of her. She bucks against me, arching her back. I recapture her mouth, hooking my fingers to bring her impossibly closer. When my back hits the stone wall, I pull away long enough to switch our position, pivoting her around. Her hands curl around the ledge as I step behind her, caging her in with my palms on either side of hers.
For just a moment, the view steals my already ragged breath from my lungs. The moon is reflected in the brilliant glow of the water, the different levels of springs beneath us appearing like portals to another world. The steam captures the silver moonlight, a living mist writhing on the slight breeze.
Bracing myself on one hand, I pull her hair over one shoulder, baring her neck. She cants her head to give me access, permission, and when my teeth graze the sensitive flesh, she shudders.
“And here I thought you had all of this aggression to work out,” she taunts, coaxes that fragile peace I’d recaptured into becoming more. Inspiring buried emotions to life and trusting that I’m strong enough to survive them.
Kissing a path to the juncture of her neck, I bite down hard enough to leave a mark and she gasps, arching her ass into me. My free hand palms her breast, toying and pinching her nipple until she’s squirming. I give the other the same treatment, using my hips to keep her pinned between me and the wall. Only when she starts pleading do I kick her feet apart, water sloshing over the edge and crashing so far below. Sliding a palm over her collar, I wrap a hand around her throat as she groans, gripping my wrist and panting.
I reach between us, guiding my cock and slowly press deeper, torturing myself as much as her. Bracing a hand on the wet stone, I pull back just enough to slam inside of her. Each thrust is harder than the last, my grip tightening on her throat as she clenches around me, face tilted to the endless night in surrender.
Complete and utter trust that I won’t let her fall.
A little farther she leans over that ledge, reaching no higher than her belly button in this section. The ground gives a natural boost, like it wants someone to jump. But the deepest section of the water beneath is no more than ten feet at best, and even then, only the center. All the pools are crafted like a bowl, able to recline against the lip while seated on the natural bench the stone provides.
Her nails rake down my forearm as she releases a breathless moan. Bruises will no doubt mottle her stomach tomorrow, but she doesn’t act like the thought fazes her in the slightest. My shallow thrusts come harder, faster. Stretching out over her back, I tighten my grip on the ledge until my nails threaten to bleed.
But that’s what has always worked best between us; we’re far too suicidal for our own good.
A thrill runs down my spine as my hand slips an inch and my cock jerks, eliciting a groan from both of us. My heart thrums against her spine as my hand drops from her neck to her waist, plastering her tightly against me. And still, she doesn’t grip the ledge, instead slipping one hand between her legs to start circling her clit and the other reaching back to tangle in my hair. Another snap of my hips and she tightens around my cock, a silent plea for more.
My free hand runs over her stomach, her breasts, up to cup her jaw. Hold firm, I lightly run two of my nails over her neck, abruptly jerking her upright. She rests her head against my shoulder, eyes closed and breathing heavily as she swivels her hips.
“You can’t leave me again,” I murmur against the shell of her ear, flicking my tongue over the sensitive flesh.
“I thought you wanted to be alone.” She gasps as I slam into her hard enough that her feet leave the ground, completely at my mercy.
My cock jerks again. Close, so close. “So did I.” Another thrust. “But I was wrong. I think I just wanted you to ask me to stay.”
A series of curses tear from her throat as she starts coming, tightly clamping around me and fisting my hair. My movements become erratic, chasing after her over that invisible ledge until I’m tumbling right beside her. Slowly, I buck my hips, grinding against her ass as I spill inside of her, flooding her with heat.
She shudders around me, making no move to pull away. “Stay.” The word is a nearly inaudible prayer on her lips. Her body trembles against me, riding through the aftershocks as I languidly thrust inside of her as I soften.
Tilting her face just slightly, I kiss her temple. “Always.”
Chapter 8
Cambria
“But you hate snakes.” Lucien takes another bite of his food, never looking far from Azazel who’s currently wrapped around Dorian’s arm.
“Well Cambria loves them, so I thought I’d give them another shot,” he defends, wincing as fangs sink into his wrist. Luce’s face tightens with displeasure, but he says nothing about it.
“We are talking about real snakes here, right?” Atlas asks, smirking and finishing off his plate.
Dorian’s eyes light up with mirth and he just shrugs. “That’s neither here nor there.”
Azazel flicks a tongue to seal the wound and slithers back up to act as Dorian’s obsidian scarf, settling in to sleep off his breakfast. A knock at the door has all of us either startling or stiffening. It’s become a soundtrack heralding bad news, and I know I’m not the only one debating pretending to be asleep rather than answer it.
Ultimately, Lucien scoots his chair back and crosses into the next room. It takes me all of two seconds before I follow after him, uneasy. Things are too fresh in all of our memories, and as much as I complained about them not giving me any space, I blame myself for not phrasing my silent wishes better. It’s only been about a day and I’m still jittery when one of them is gone for too long.
We were so goddamn lucky this time. And luck strikes with the same frequency as lightning; rarely in the same spot twice.
“The queen requests Cambria’s presence,” one
of Achlys’ personal guards declares, hands in her pockets casually.
Luce’s hand tightens on the doorframe and I watch him bite his tongue. I don’t need to be a telepath to know where his thoughts are at, because we’re completely in sync with our distaste on this one. But unlike our last experience being summoned by a queen, I don’t feel like curling up in a ball of hopelessness.
It’s different this time. I’m different. And though I have no interest in playing the games of frightened immortals, I have no intention of losing them either.
One scared of losing her power, and the other of losing her people. Fear breeds recklessness, and I know better than to trust Achlys simply because she’s treated us with more kindness than we’re used to. She was blatant in the fact that it’s because she wants to stay in our good graces, to offer food and shelter in exchange for protection for her kingdom. And if she doesn’t flinch telling someone to their face that she’s using them, I have to wonder the depths of secrets she deems worth keeping.
“Sure, just let me get dressed.”
Lucien wastes no time closing the door in the fae’s face, expression pinched as he turns to me. “You’re not at her beck and call.”
“Well I would hope not.” He follows me up the stairs, heading for our room. “I better be getting paid a hell of a lot more if I’m a call girl for royalty.”
He grips my wrist, pulling me to a stop. I turn to face him, those amber eyes tortured. Atlas filled me in on our way back from the spring, so at least I had some forewarning. I’d been glimpsing small cracks in his stoic armor over recent weeks, but this is nothing in comparison. This is a burst dam and a man that’s drowning.
“I’m coming with you.” Absolutely no room for argument, his mouth set in a stubborn line.
