A Baron of Bonds (Conduit of Light #2)

36. Karus

Chapter 36

Karus

I knew I wasn’t a good person.

I knew in that moment of disbelief that I had been through some trials in my life that could not be undone.

Maybe that happened to everyone.

Perhaps we all were born in the light until the dim and dark of the world reared its head and cast a shadow upon us. By then, we were forever marred, not something pure light or endless dark, but gray. Something that could be either.

It was the dark that flickered through me in those few moments.

If Heimlen stood before me now, in the flesh, not in molded bronze, I would have killed him.

I had no doubts of this. Some things are certain.

I don’t believe I would have been merciful, either.

And I don’t believe I would have found myself lacking in the revelry of his demise.

Rev still held me. His hand, which had just held mine to spin me around to the song, lay flat and wide against my stomach as he pressed my back to his chest.

He said nothing, though I knew he felt every murderous thought, every sliver of rage that slipped through my heart until it festered, infected and painful.

My breath matched the rapidity of my pulse while my eyes flicked over the likeness.

It was a good one. His outstretched, gloved hand was worn, so much so that it was no longer bronze, but golden. I didn’t doubt its discoloration was from the people of this city reaching back to the man who hid his secret under the very gloves they brushed for comfort and thanks.

I thought of what I could do.

One, I could fall to my knees and weep. I could shed many more tears for the pain he caused, the lies he fed, and the brokenness he’d helped cause in Revich. I could fall apart in the busy square and Rev would hold me close, whispering words of love and a future we still held, even after all that manipulation and loss.

But this was not the time to weep.

This was the time to rage.

I stepped forward, out of Rev’s grasp and clasped the hand of the man who had taken me from this very city seven years before.

Just as I knew I could hold breath in my lungs, I knew I could destroy this piece of tribute. I knew I could melt this bronze into a bubbling puddle of metal and revel in doing so. I would savor the moments of destruction, watching him fall before me—the same woman he expected to fall to the Blight of Felgren.

Revich stayed silent, and it was the silence that stopped me.

I heard no words from his lips, no emotions from our bond.

He stood behind me, letting me choose. Letting me decide what was next—what path I wanted to take in those moments.

But I was no longer just one. My choices would affect him as well, and I knew the one I could not bring myself to take.

If I showed my power, if I demolished this loved statue of the Baron these people saw as their savior, guards would be alerted immediately. The people would be frightened at such a feat, and I would be taken to the castle cells. But Revich would never allow that to happen, and a struggle would ensue.

Rev and I would win the battle, and then where would we be?

For perhaps the first time in my life, I stayed my hand.

I inhaled fully, holding my breath, making my choice. The wrath within me raged and fought, budding sparks of flame rattling against my chest, screaming to be free—to burn every ounce of Heimlen’s memory left behind in his death.

I turned around to face Rev. His eyes showed the very darkness that threatened to consume me. My head jerked in a short flicker of no , enough to let him know I would not give into my rage. I would choose us over Heimlen. I would choose to follow the very words Rev burned into me the night before, and I would recognize our chain, our leash, our lifeline.

Our lips found each other’s hard and heedless of where we were, who we were, or what our lives had come to be.

We stumbled to the fountain. We bumped into people who either shouted or snickered, neither one of us caring in the least.

I don’t know how we made it to the inn.

I don’t know how we made it up the one hundred and five steps, but I do know we almost didn’t. My laced front hung loose with Revich’s hand warm and rough inside, my breasts on fire contained in their cotton cage, begging to be free halfway up the staircase on the third landing.

I pulled at the waistline of his pants and found my way inside, gripping him tightly, forcing a deep rumble from his chest. He let me stroke him, his cloak pulled over our bodies as another couple passed us, quickly leaving the scene we displayed.

We hadn’t uttered a word to each other, and words seemed insignificant and trite as he gripped my arm tightly, pushing me back to the stairs. Up we went, my feet finding purchase on each step that rose behind me. His body somehow guided us, though his mouth was still pressed to mine, our tongues flicking over teeth and lips and any surface that could bring us closer together.

We reached the fifth landing, my hand still stroking him tightly, and he tore at my skirts with a sharp rip.

I freed him quickly and gasped as he thrust inside me once again, my back pressed to the wall, a mere ten feet from our door. My head hit the wood behind me, and I saw stars, slumping forward as he lifted me from the wall. My thoughts swam in confusion for a moment before I heard a click and we tumbled into our room.

He slammed the door shut with his foot, and I kissed him again, the pleasure snapping me back to the moments I needed to bathe myself in.

We fell to the floor, the one bed forgotten and ignored, both of us preferring whatever surface was closest over cool sheets and soft bedding.

He gripped both of my hands in his, clasping my wrists together above my head, taking control of our bond, his hips digging into mine as we rocked on the floor to our borrowed room.

I turned away from his mouth, the moment too great. The burning in my soul of hatred and anger found another outlet that I let fill me completely. I watched as my magic escaped, lifting from my skin as he pulled at my dress, the copper fabric ripping at my sleeves, freeing my chest and giving me the room I needed to breathe.

We still said nothing as my magic found its way to his face in a caress, touching him as he wouldn’t allow my hands to do. His eyes turned bright watching me on the cusp of something beautiful and great, a power in itself that we created together. Something I’d share with him again and again and again, never knowing when to stop, never caring either.

I found my climax almost screaming in a carnal bellow—my slip into a release just as great as all the others we’d shared here in this room. He followed it close behind, the waves of pleasure from my peak continuing to ride swiftly through me as he pounded hard to find his own.

We gasped together, the room suddenly cold and dark, our passion releasing us and giving way to moments in time moving forward again.

He let go of my wrists, and I found his neck as he fell on his back beside me. I wove my hands through his hair, kissing him again, words too much of an effort to say while our bodies heaved together.

We held each other in those few minutes that passed, our line pulled taught once again.

“You know,” he breathed, “I’m becoming quite fond of floors.”

I laughed into his chest as he continued.

“No, really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many up close and appreciated their artistry and use. The tiles of the throne room are magnificent, the mosaic in our washroom is a beautiful display of art. Even here,”—he knocked his knuckles against the hardwood underneath us—“this wood is beautiful. See the grains of red that wind through these chestnut pieces?”

I rose slightly and turned my head to look, tracing my finger on the pattern of knotted wood. I nodded, “Yes, and the ceilings.”

“Ceilings?”

“The ceilings of these places are impressive.” I pointed upward. “This one is so intricately designed to support the weight of the roof above. Each of these wood beams has a purpose. And the throne room? Have you noticed the dome above that curves so gracefully to allow the light to stream through? Though I didn’t see much of it while I was there.”

His laugh rumbled into my hair, and I chuckled into his neck.

I inhaled heavily and murmured, “We forgot the tea.”

“I know.”

“It probably wore off.”

“I know.” He sighed and brushed my cheek. “We won’t do it again until we’re ready.”

“Yes, no more.” I paused, thinking of a solution. “You know what we need, my love? We need a flask. You keep one in your breast pocket full of styris tea—that way we can’t ever find ourselves needing it again.”

“Ah, brilliant, Karus.” He kissed my forehead. “Beautiful, brilliant Karus.”

I fell into his chest, slipping my bare leg over his hip possessively.

“What are we going to do, Rev? How do we let these people know what really happened with Heimlen?”

He sighed heavily. “The truth is, Karus, I don’t know when the right time will be to inform them. The Queen knows and there must be a reason she has not put a stop to this. There must be a reason she lets her people admire the man who killed their loved ones.” He stroked my hair, pausing. “I would have defended you, you know. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you…if you had destroyed it.”

“I know.” I rose my head to tuck his hair back from his face. “But I chose us. We’ll find a way to reveal the truth together. You and me.” I took his hand and kissed his fingers. “You breathe, I breathe, Rev. You live, I live.”