Page 42 of Great Falls Rogue
“Wait. What?” The hair on the back of my neck rises like hackles, a shiver shooting along my spine. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do,” River says, his heavy gaze lending his soul to the words. “There is nothing—nothing—more important for me than keeping you…” He falters. “Than keeping all my students safe. A duty at which I’ve failed spectacularly over the past two days. You’ve already paid for your transgression. I have not. One dozen, please, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, bloody damned stars, you want to bet how much I damn well mind?” I sputter, jerking away from the rattan rod. I only realize that I’ve jumped across the floor when my shoulder catches River’s bookshelf, stacks of journals, references, and ink bottles falling in a spectacularwhoosh.
River blinks almost appreciatively at the mess but stays put otherwise.
Crossing my arms, I glare at Coal—who merely shrugs—and turn back to River. “Your strategy of adding more pain to that already collectively endured is… What’s the word I’m looking for…? Ah,stupid.”
With a short sigh, River braces his palms on his thighs before speaking again, his voice measured. “It isn’tmystrategy, Leralynn. It is the reality of where we are. Do you imagine I enjoy disciplining you? Watching you be terrified or exhausted or hurting? Wondering what the hell I’m going to have to do to you next when you defy the rules and teachers?” River’s tone softens. “I need you to know that I understand the scope of my failure before you. That I am sorry. I need you to trust my word—” His voice catches, and he cuts himself off, trying to corral some emotion in his gaze. It seems he needs my trust on a level he can’t fully understand himself, much less explain.
“Apology accepted,” I say quickly. “I understand everything. I trust you. Can I go, please?”
River sighs, a muscle tensing in his jaw. “If you want other projects to continue between us, then you will do this now.”
Other projects. The tutoring. The time with River I’ve grown to savor. Acid rises up my throat as River hands me the rattan again. I run my fingers along his bare sensitive belly of forearm, the skin lacking the thickness of the muscled side or calluses of his palms. River shivers lightly before he can suppress it, his eyes flickering.
“Leralynn,” he prompts.
Bracing his arm against my left hand, I close my eyes and flick the switch, its tip landing just beneath the crease of River’s elbow.
“It doesn’t count unless it leaves a welt or draws blood,” says River. “From a self-preservation perspective, I would prefer we achieved that point sooner rather than later.”
The next minute is the longest of my life, the soft sound of River hissing at the sting driving into me as much as the raised welts that appear all too vividly along his skin. The male makes no effort to pretend he feels nothing, eyes closing, sweat breaking out on his temples as small flinches run through his body with each impact. And after a few strokes, I stop pretending either.
My stinging eyes spill tears onto my cheeks, washing out the hidden poison that was eating my soul. River didn’t abandon me in that cell. Didn’t relegate my existence to a secondary tier, to be addressed at his convenience. His maddening, frustrating ways are rooted in protectiveness, not apathy. Because that is who River is. A protector. And I don’t know where that leaves the two of us.
The twelfth stroke has nowhere to land but on already hurt skin, and the sight of blood welling up at the welted intersection shoves me off the edge I’ve been riding. Sobs rake my chest, my breath hitching inside lungs that can’t draw enough air. This is all wrong. Every horrid moment of it.
Not caring for the propriety of it, I bury my face in River’s shoulder and, after a moment of stiffness, feel him smooth his hand over my hair. His woodsy scent fills my nose, mixing with a hint of lavender soap. “It’s all right,” he murmurs as if it were true. “We’re done.”
Behind me, I hear the sound of the door being pulled open.
River stiffens again. “Coal—”
“No. You broke it, you fix it.” The door clicks shut, Coal’s soft footsteps dissolving into the distance.
After a minute, River’s hand settles on my shoulder, nudging me away gently.
I shake my head, my grip tightening even as I brace myself to be pushed away, for the bubble of intimacy to pop with a resounding snap of formality. It will happen, I know. It must, for without the magic’s bond, that is what truly lies between us. River is a king, and I am a rogue.
River’s hands on my shoulder tighten, the firm push a heartbeat away. I swallow only to realize that River has pulled me toward him instead when he sits on the edge of his desk, settling me on his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around me in one smooth motion that feels like a locked door giving way. His heart pounds under my ear, and with a soft sound in his chest that I feel rather than hear, he rests his cheek on top of my head. “Leralynn,” he whispers, his breath ruffling my hair.
16
River
River pressed Leralynn’s small warm body against his chest, breathing in her lilac scent with a desperation that made his chest ache. The green silk of her top had ridden up her torso, and his hand itched to cup the soft curve of her waist, to rise higher to her luscious breast. It was madness, doing this to himself. In the part of his mind that still functioned, he knew that holding her was wrong. That he never should have let Coal leave, not when the pull Lera had on his soul overwhelmed all sense. Yet that voice of reason was as distant as the long-dimmed horizon, and all River’s protective instincts demanded that he wrap himself around the girl, comfort her even as he took comfort from her in return.
How many in Lera’s place would have savored the chance at vengeance? Would have been elated at the opportunity to even the score that the disparity in power always tallied between a commander and his charge? Especially after what River had done to her, leaving Lera abandoned and shackled when it was his duty more than anyone’s to ensure her protection.
Was it her fast forgiveness that set the final noose around his heart, or her courage? When things turned hard, Lera stood up for others before herself, and that called to River as much as it terrified the living daylights out of him.
As he stroked Lera’s silky hair and back, River had to concede that she was so like his beloved Diana that the images melded together. Or perhaps he was moving on. Falling in love, stars take him. With a student.
“I’m sorry,” River whispered.
“You are a bastard.” Lera raised her face to him, her brown eyes and pale cheeks glistening with tears. “For making me hurt you. I hated it.”
