Page 25 of Beast of Blood and Ash
That would do me no good.
“I need to go get something. Stay here.” The words dropped like hot stones, a command disguised as a plea.
Reika’s head jerked up, her eyes wild. “I thought you wanted to guard me.” Her tone was a snapped wire, hostile and defensive, brittle with humiliation.
A sting, but I hid it. “No one will get to you here.”
The words felt empty, a lie stacked on top of all the others I’d told or kept silent. Still, she didn’t move.
I forced words out past the shame. “I will return shortly.” I tried to make it sound like routine, not desperation. Not an excuse to flee the heat of her panic and the acid of my own need.
She didn’t answer. I lingered a moment, heavy with things unsaid, then moved into the corridor. My steps echoed down the stone, each footfall a drumbeat of guilt.
It took longer than I expected to find them.
The market had emptied while night pressed in, merchants packing away the last of their goods. The scent of honey and crisp-fried dough was nearly gone, drifting faintly above the spice of roasted meat and river moss. I bribed a vendor with a coin worth more than twice the price, careful to keep my claws in check as I carried the warm plate back to my quarters.
A dull throb started beneath my breastbone with every step. She wouldn’t still be there. Of course she wouldn’t. Only a fool would stay with a blood-soaked monster, even one with a Drakarn’s promise stamped on his tongue. I quickened my pace, fighting the urge to run.
When I returned, Reika was right where I left her, her back to the door, arms folded, the tension in her spine gone brittle and high. Her eyes flicked to mine, searching for threat, for escape, for any sign I’d changed my mind.
I offered her the plate of honeyed sweets. I placed it on the low table between us, then retreated, giving her distance. I watched her too closely, hating myself for it.
Her hand hovered over the treats, fingers trembling as they traced the air just above the sticky shells. Her lips pressed into a thin line. I forced myself to remain still, patience a pain-bright thread pulled taut in my chest.
“How did you know I liked these?” she asked, her voice soft but edged. There was accusation in it, a challenge, as if I’d stolen a secret.
Panic flared hot in my throat. I couldn’t say I’d watched her in the market while she devoured a plate of them, eyes closed, lips shining with honey and bliss. I couldn’t confess that seeing her happy, unguarded, had nearly broken me. That I’d burnedthe image into my memory to keep myself alive through the worst of the dark nights.
“I think everyone likes these.” It was a coward’s answer. The truth sat heavy just behind my teeth, a stone I couldn’t spit out. Not if I wanted her to stay.
Her suspicion didn’t fade. She studied the plate as if it might bite.
Slowly, Reika lifted one of the sweets. Her thumb pressed into the sticky crust, breaking the shell while honey oozed around her fingertips. She hesitated a moment longer, head bowed, then brought it to her lips.
She ate with a strange gravity, as if the morsel held a memory she needed to taste to believe it. Her tongue darted out, licking a stray drop of honey from the corner of her mouth. The gesture was so unconsciously sensual it cracked something open inside me.
The moment softened, the air less jagged. A heartbeat of quiet. She looked up, her voice distant, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before.
“I had these for the first time in Ignarath,” she said. “I don’t know why they were in my cell. Someone must have favored me.” She shuddered, the memory crawling over her skin. “Whoever they were, they never called in that debt. It was the best thing I ate while I was there.”
My hands curled into fists beneath the table, nails biting deep into my palms. Shame slicked the back of my tongue.
That had been me.
Months ago, hidden behind a mask of iron and discipline, I’d slipped treats past the guards when I couldn’t bear her suffering another day. Too cowardly to show my face, too broken to offer more than crumbs from the feast of my guilt.
She had no idea.
I wanted to tell her. The urge to confess was a boulder at the edge of a cliff, gravity pulling it, needing only the smallest push. But I couldn’t. Not now. Not if she thought there’d been a price.
“There’s plenty here for both of us.” She slid the plate across the table. The offering was awkward, almost shy. The gesture was clumsy, but it was hope. Her hope, extended in trembling fingers.
I took one of the sweets, careful to move slowly, non-threatening.
My fingers brushed a smear of honey from the edge of the plate. Her eyes darted to the spot, tracking the movement, her pupils blown wide with something I didn’t dare name.
We sat in silence, the tension so thick it might have been a third person in the room. The longing in me grew sharp, unbearable. A hunger not just for her body, but for the bond, for the chance to be seen as something other than her monster.
