Page 30 of A Song of Air
Julius sighed.
“What was that about?” she demanded quietly.
“What?” He feigned innocence, his lips twisting up into a smirk.
It didn’t deter her. She stepped closer, placing her palm against his chest, right over the spot where his heart was beating erratically. And that alone was his tell.
Her eyebrow crested higher like she knew it too.
With a sigh, Julius raked a hand through his long hair. “You’re busting my balls, woman.”
She smirked, obviously way too satisfied with that comment. “Because they’re mine and mine alone to bust. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
He sighed. The thing about his magic, his strength, was that he was used to being the most powerful, the fiercest, in the room. He was used to battling and strategizing and making sure everything was perfect in the war they found themselves in. Julius took failure personally. He felt it reflected on him as a soldier, every defeat and every success.
Seeing the warring going on within his mind, Iona reached up and pushed aside a lock of hair. “Look...” She sighed. “I know we joined fast.” Her fingers stayed, lingering near his neck where the mark of their bond was. “But I’m not fucking stupid.”
His eyes widened, and he wanted to reel back. He didn’t. He should have been used to her bluntness by now, but he found his mate still had the ability to take him by surprise.
“You wear a mask, Julius. You wear the mask of the drunken, jovial, care-free Fae. And while those may be parts of you, we both know they aren’t the full story. You have more layers. There’s a reason you drink yourself into oblivion and always have to have the brightest smile in the room. These are just facets of yourself, but there’s more. I feel it. You can’t fool me.”
It was like she’d reached down his throat and rearranged his insides with her truths. He took a steadying breath, though he felt anything but. “You’re right,” he confessed.
He did enjoy a good drink, Fae wine in particular. It wasn’t just because of the taste that sparked magic on the tongue. It was because it made him drowsy and flooded his mind with happy memories. So he didn’t have to live with the horrors of battle that threatened to consume him.
He prided himself on not letting the past drown him like it did to other Fae, and if he needed the help of wine to do so, then even better. It left him levelheaded. It left him with a sense of self that was hard to describe.
But he had to now. He almost bit his tongue in an attempt to hold back the words, but relaxed his jawline. If there was one person who would never judge him, it was his mate.
“When I drink, I’m happy, and when I’m happy, I don’t have to think about the heavy burdens that rest on my shoulders. I can just... be. I can be... confident.”
For someone who prided himself on his honesty, he found it difficult to get the words out.
Iona didn’t pressure him to keep going. Her hands were there, though. Steady and warm, despite the Elemental magic of ice she wielded, and keeping him grounded. They cupped his cheeks, forcing him to stare into her dark eyes.
“When I drink, it hides the fact that I’m scared.”
There it was. His most integral truth, and his greatest shame. He, the strongest of the group, a soldier with the most experience, the protector, the one who planned the battles and trained recruits, was fucking afraid.
Iona’s eyes softened. “There is no shame in fear.”
He knew that.
“I can’t let it overrule me,” he whispered. “If the fear wins, people will die.”
“Is that why you’ve been lagging on the journey?”
His face flushed. Her hands cupped his embarrassment, but didn’t shame him for it. “We have a vulnerable group of people. Dana was a win for us, but things can only get more difficult from here. We’re at active war. I watched soldiers and weak Fae die on the streets of Dana, and for a moment I thought that could be us.” His breath stuttered, but he pushed forward. “That could beyou.”
“Julius...”
“I’ve always fought for a cause, Iona. Always. I’ve fought for my people. I’ve watched friends, comrades, and enemies die. It has always been a part of war and battle, and so I shoved it aside. But when I think that it could be you?” His voice broke and he dropped his forehead to hers, breathing her in. Her scent of ice and apples. He relished in it. They mingled with his own and he wanted to sink himself deep inside her and never leave. To bury himself inside her warmth and stay with her forever. “You make me weak, Iona. You make me fucking weak. With you, everything I’ve pushed away resurfaces, and I can’t lose you. Do you hear me? I fucking can’t.”
He gripped her hips, pressing his erection against her center, grinding against her in his desperate, frantic energy. He needed her to know. Maybe his words weren’t the most eloquent, but he could show her with his body instead. Let her use him. Let him become hers to manipulate, he didn’t fucking care.
“You aren’t going to lose me.” She gripped him by the chin, forcing his gaze to her. Their breaths mingled, harsh and erratic. “And I’m not going to lose you. We aren’t going to lose anyone in this group, do you hear?”
They couldn’t know that, he wanted to say. But she read it from his expression.
