Bloodguard

chapter 41

Leith

What a fucking day.

Caelen and I huddle into our cloaks. The temperature dropped sharply as we reached the outskirts of Tunder, and we were riding in the pouring rain for seven fucking hours. It wasn’t until we reached the border with Arrow that the storm finally subsided. But by then, we were soaked to the bone and freezing, except, oddly enough, for Giselle, who seems to thrive in the rain.

The sun set hours ago. Night looms as we pass through the gates and onto Jakeb’s lands.

“You should rest,” Caelen says.

How can I? We were nearly caught. The fate of my family rests in the hands of a suspicious mountain troll. The borders are closed. And I…I likely have to return to the arena in the morning.

Caelen and Giselle wait for me to dismount. I’m not a rider by any stretch, but Star took pity on me. She butts me gently with her head, and I rub a hand down her long face. “You’re all right,” I tell her.

The horse whinnies at my pitiful excuse for praise. She loves apples. That could make up for it. But I can also bring her a different treat tomorrow. Maybe a carrot or something.

She nudges me once more, and I head toward the cottage.

It’ll be dawn soon.

Fatigue and fear for my family weigh my steps. I could try to sleep, but I don’t think I’d manage more than an hour, and that would dull my senses rather than sharpen them.

Neela waits outside the cottage beneath the awning, tucked out of the rain. She hands me a basket.

“Eat something, gladiator,” the old troll says. “You’re due back in the arena come morning.”

My stomach plummets.

I knew as much, but hearing those words…

“Where is Maeve?” The whole ride back from Tunder, I’ve wanted to see her face.

“She’s at the manor, but I’ll alert her of your return,” Neela replies.

I start to ask Neela why she was the one waiting here instead of Maeve, but she bypasses me and heads toward the manor.

I was already in a horrible mood, and knowing I’m returning to the arena makes it worse.

Still wet and shivering, I light the fireplace. Damn. That rainstorm seemed more magically charged than anything from nature, just like the fire that set the gate ablaze, creating all manner of havoc. I’m certain both were conjured by Giselle.

She’s a powerful mage.

But despite my questions, she said nothing of what happened—even when I thanked her for her assistance.

I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh. I just want this day to end.

I strip out of my wet clothes and place them over the hearth. I change into dry breeches and a freshly laundered linen shirt, then wrap myself in a blanket, but even with the fire blazing, I’m absurdly cold.

Maybe tea would help. I approach the sink, and the exhaustion of the day punches me down once more. After filling the kettle, I lean forward, my head dropping against my arm as the water heats. Damn, I could curl up in bed and sleep forever. Maybe Maeve and I can lie in bed for a short while… She always knows how to keep me warm.

I lift my head and freeze. I’m not sure how I missed it when I first came in. Perhaps it was because I was damn well frozen.

Sitting on a mound of gold and black flower petals is a giant crystal bottle of belladom. What the hell? Maeve knows what my people go through just to get one tiny drop. I grit my teeth.

This fucking day.

My glare trains on the bottle and then, of course, on the stupid note.

My dearest Maeve,

Dropped by to give you an early birthday gift and to resume the conversation we had in Vitor’s office. You know what I want. I know what you need. Find me.

Yours,

Soro of Revlis

Lord and General

That little shit stopped in again.

I seethe, then seethe some more. My family probably tore their hands up to harvest every drop that went into that vial. My people have suffered and died for centuries producing that shit. I can’t believe this is even here.

The door is flung open, and Maeve rushes in. She’s in a plain, deep-orange dress, and her cloak is soaked through. But that’s not what gives me pause. Her eyes are swollen and red as if she’s been crying. Maeve isn’t a crier. She’s shed maybe five tears since I’ve met her, and she practically sucked each of them back in.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen to your papa?” I pull the kettle off the fire and hurry forward when she shakes her head. I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me. “Is it Soro? Did that piece of shit hurt you?”

“W-what?” she asks. She takes a good look at me. “Leith, you’re shaking. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t care about me,” I say. I search her face. “Tell me what he did to you.”

Maeve starts to speak only to abruptly quiet. She’s seen the bottle of belladom. I release her as she walks toward the sink. “Where did this come from?” she asks, then reads the note and looks up. “He was here ?”

Yeah. It does not bode well that Soro can penetrate the defenses of Jakeb’s property so easily.

“Is this about your papa? Is Soro offering something to get him out?”

Her eyes well. “Soro can’t release him. Papa killed the queen.”

Now I’m the one confused. “Who told you that? Whoever it was is a liar.”

“It was Father,” she says. “Earlier this evening. In town. He said…he said everyone had told me, I just chose not to believe. Vitor likely only spared him for me.”

Damn. “He could have had a reason…”

The slow shake of her head silences me instantly. I fold the blanket over the chair, certain she’ll explain, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t mention the belladom or Soro. It’s like she’s at a loss for words. I decide not to press in order to give her time to, I don’t know, settle or something.

“Papa killed my grandmother, Leith.”

Is that why she blocks out the memories? Because she doesn’t want to believe it? But then…when her eyes lift up to mine, they’re haunted, like there’s more.

“Maeve, did something else happen?”

She blinks, her lips parting only to abruptly press tight. My already frozen body chills further. “Maeve? What’s wrong?”

Her light-brown skin blanches. Like splintering wood, she all but falls apart. I gather her to me.

“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what happened, and we’ll fix it together.”

“We can’t fix this,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry, Leith.”

Is she sorry for crying? She doesn’t ever have to apologize for that. I stroke her hair and kiss her head, trying to comfort her. She came to me. I have to find a way to give her what she needs. “What can I do to help?”

It takes her a moment to look at me, but when she does, it’s as if every emotion, every kindness, every tender moment she’s ever shared with me floods her gaze.

“You can’t help me,” she says, her voice shaking. “But by all the moon, please, let me help you.”

She pushes up on her toes and pulls me in for one long, sweet kiss.

I circle her waist when our kiss deepens, every stroke of her tongue erasing all the frustration, uncertainty, and inhumanity the day brought.

My grip tightens as she deepens the kiss, my hands lowering to cup her ass.

As I squeeze, she abruptly breaks from my hold. I think I somehow scared her and try to step away and allow her a moment. But then she moves closer, watching me in that way that begs me to see and know only her. Even as she unties my breeches, her gaze never leaves mine.

“I love you with all my heart,” she says. “ Please , Leith—tonight, let me love you with my body.”

My eyes widen, and my body thrums with heat at her words.

The soft fabric of my breeches falls to my ankles, and I kick them away in time for her to grab a tight hold of my stiffening dick.

Holy shit.

My eyes scrunch as my chin lifts to where the reflection of the flames dances along the ceiling. She starts working my dick from the base, gliding her hands up and down the length of me as she makes her way to the head, each pass of her thumb over the tip inciting a few drops to emerge.

She releases me long enough to pull her dress over her head and fall to her knees, opening her mouth to take me deep, her eyes never leaving me as she sucks hard. With every pull from her hand and her mouth, I grow dizzy as she removes what remains of her clothes with her free hand.

Her nails dig into my ass, encouraging me to pump in and out of the back of her throat. I don’t have to tell her how damn good it feels, but I do anyway, my head spinning with how bad I want her.

I lift her in one motion and lay her across the worktable, spreading her legs so I can taste her tender flesh.

She jerks when I lick her. So I do it again, my tongue feathering over her center, working her faster when her fingers tangle into my hair and she pulls me closer.

Over and over, she calls my name, her body thrashing so hard I have to haul her back again and again to the edge of the table, my arms hooked around her legs to keep her in place.

Her back arches as she orgasms, tremors of bliss causing her body to quake. She writhes, the remains of the red-and-purple powder she was grinding on this worktable dusting her skin.

When she finishes, perspiration beads between her breasts and glides down her stomach. I flip her over, guiding her toward me until her feet touch the floor. She bends forward, her regal features flushed with lust as she tosses her hair over her left shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” she begs. “Please.”

And I don’t.

She watches me over her shoulder as I glide my dick in between her folds. Goosebumps splay across her back as I retreat slowly and push in harder.

Bang .

The table slams into a cabinet at my first hard thrust. But as her core slickens with each pump, the banging increases, as does her call for more.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The rhythm is steady, building in time with the pounding of our flesh.

“You like this?” I ask. “You like me fucking you?”

“Yes,” she rasps.

She grips the edge of the table as I increase my speed to match her surging desire.

“Harder,” she begs, her head and messy hair falling forward. “Harder.”

The fragrance of sweet pollen and sharp eucalyptus intertwines with the aroma of sweat and passion.

She finishes multiple times, but I keep going.

I turn her once more, throwing her legs over my shoulders, and her hands clasp my neck as our eyes meet.

I love her.

I don’t know the exact moment that it happened. I only know that it did.

As I reach completion, I haul her into my arms, her legs snaking around my waist as I fill her.

I can’t tell her I love her. Not yet.

That doesn’t mean that I won’t fucking love her forever.