Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 34

Over the next week, Kindra desperately tried to avoid Jasper.

Well, not entirely. That, she didn't think she could bear. So she still walked with him through the gardens, still dined with him, Emeline and Helena for meals.

But she worked hard to avoid being alone with him because that would mean talking about the kiss.

After she rushed off at the end of the war meeting to her chambers to bathe and sleep, she found the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the kiss with him. The memory of it alone was enough to make her blush and stammer, so it seemed impossible that she could have a conversation about it without forgetting how to speak properly.

It wasn't that she regretted the kiss—that feeling had still yet to surface, at least not in full force. She'd felt traces of it, here and there, like when Jasper came to her door the next day with a new, expectant look on his face. The first thing he'd tried to do was bring it up, and she'd practically dragged him out of the room and into the crowded hallway to end the conversation.

But she really didn't regret it. She'd liked it. And she wanted to do it again, if she was being honest with herself.

So it wasn't regret that was the problem. It was the lack of it that confused her. It was the dreams that came to her every night, filled with Jasper's bare skin and soft mouth and gentle hands, that left her gasping and hot in her bed upon waking. It was the way her body seemed to reach for him subconsciously every time they were near each other, and even when they were apart.

It was the want.

And until she figured that out, she simply couldn't talk about it.

Luckily, both she and Jasper had plenty to do to distract themselves.

Kindra threw herself back into training. She spent hours each day at the training grounds. She not only sparred with people, she learned from them, too. She had them explain their magic to her, all the ways it was both similar and different from hers. She and Ryle spent a lot of time together as she learned the ins and outs of his wind magic. She even discovered that he and Heinrich were partners as they chatted between sessions. She liked Ryle a lot more than she liked Heinrich and didn't understand how he could stand the Wavebreaker's incessant worrying, but she kept that opinion to herself.

When she wasn't training, she was in the library reading, though she’d moved on from Jasper’s fiction recommendations and was reading his favorite history texts now. Or she was in the War Chamber. Since the first meeting after the attack, she'd been invited to several more. Her attendance became a regularity, and even Antone did not begrudge her for being there anymore. She mostly stayed silent, sitting at the edge of the room with Jasper, but sometimes her opinion was sought out. King Leofric, in particular, seemed to value what she had to say, which both pleased and disturbed her. The other women in the room seemed pleased by her presence, as well. There were four of them total: her, General Lustris, an Earthwarden commander named Vitore Terberyn, and Kristaline Atmon, a Windspinner who lead the City Guard.There were but four of them among over a dozen men.

Jasper attended many meetings she was not invited to—some in the War Chamber, others with just the Council, and more still that she didn't know about, she was sure. He looked permanently exhausted despite the fact that Healers brushed away his heavy under-eyes bags each morning and brought a healthy glow to his face. Unfortunately, even they couldn't wield away the stress of a looming war. It clung to all of them. Nobody in the castle looked rested. Kindra was the same; though she collapsed into her bed each night and slipped into darkness without much effort, she still woke the next morning feeling as though she'd hardly slept at all.

But despite running herself ragged, Kindra's mind still had plenty of time to think about Jasper, and the feel of his mouth on hers, and the way he'd held her face as he'd kissed her, and the way he'd smiled at her after the fact.

It was extremely annoying.

We are preparing for war, she'd scolded herself after her traitorous mind had caused her to zone out in a meeting, distracting her with yet more thoughts about Jasper's muscled chest and arms. We are preparing for war, so stop thinking about it!

She did not stop thinking about it.

Day in and day out, waking and dreaming, she thought about it. Something had been unleashed within her when she’d looked up at him and pressed her lips to his. Something that she could not lock away now, however hard she tried.

So she kept Jasper at arm's length. Deflected any attempt to discuss it with a change in subject. Tried to interact with him only around others, so he couldn't trap her in an intimate conversation. And she hardly touched him, something that she saw confused and hurt him, since they'd become so comfortable doing so prior to the festival bombing. She knew she was doing what he'd asked—begged—her not to.

She also knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

So when, a week after the attack and the kiss, Jasper followed her back to her rooms and strode in before she could say otherwise, she was not surprised. She'd put it off as long as she could, she supposed, and gestured for Sala and Cerulle to give them some privacy.

"You kissed me," he stated bluntly once the doors were closed.

"Yes," was all she could think to say, struck stupid by the solitude they now had, the way her thoughts ran wild with that fact.

" You kissed me ," he repeated.

"Yes."

"And yet now you are farther from me than you've been in weeks. Why?"

She stared at him, unable to form the words she wanted to say.

"Why, Kindra?" He took a step towards her. "I thought we were—improving."

We were. We are. But she couldn't say it .

"You kissed me," he said again, like he still couldn't wrap his head around it, "and now you cannot even bare to touch me. You can hardly stand to be in the same room as me. Why?"

"I just—It has been a lot, these past few days. I've been very busy—"

"Don't change the subject, Kindra." He stepped closer to her. Her body screamed for her to move, to close the distance between them. But Jasper did it for her, coming to a stop less than a foot away. "You have never been afraid to tell me how you feel before. Don't be so now."

Still, the words wouldn’t come, and Jasper’s face crumpled further. “Kindra,” he said, so soft it was almost a whisper, “please.”

“I—” she started, then stopped. “Can we please—can we not talk about this right now?” Her voice fell to a shameful whisper.

Jasper misread her shame. “You regret it, don’t you? Is it—is it really so repulsive? You won’t even speak of it?” There was no trace of anger in his voice. Just pure, undiluted hurt.

Oh, gods. “No, Jasper, it’s—”

“It’s what, Kindra? What else could it possibly—"

"I do not know how to want you!" she blurted finally, and when his face rippled with confusion, she rambled on, "I was prepared to hate you, to despise you for all my days, to—to torture you with my hatred. And now, I—I like you. You are kinder than I expected, and pleasant to be around, and it is very confusing. It was easier to hate you. But now I want you, and I don't know what to do about it.” She threw her hands in the air. “There! Are you satisfied?"

For a moment, Jasper was stunned into silence. Kindra felt her cheeks begin to burn and looked anywhere but him. "But you want me?" he finally said, his lips curling up in the beginnings of a smirk.

Kindra's face had never been so hot. She looked at the floor. "Don't laugh at me," she grumbled, and he placed a hand under her chin, gently turning it up so that he could see her.

"I would never," he whispered very seriously, and then kissed her hard.

Kindra had been so wound up with shock and adrenaline and terror the last time that she hadn't even fully processed the kiss until it was over. But this time... this time she felt all of it.

It was almost unbearable.

The fire that scorched her down to the bone was not her magic, but her desire. It burned through her, hotter than any flame she'd ever conjured. She was certain Jasper could feel it as he pulled her flush against him, his hands winding around her waist and into her hair. She kept herself restrained, resting her hands on his chest, afraid that if she allowed them to move, to start wandering, she'd lose herself entirely.

A small gasp of surprise slipped out of her as Jasper tugged her head back, revealing the column of her throat, and pressed his mouth there in fervent, hungry kisses. She felt her knees shake; she was as moldable as clay in his hands.

His mouth found hers again as he maneuvered the two of them backwards. Her back hit something solid—one of the bookshelves. Jasper pinned her there, one arm held above him, propping him against the shelf, the other still tangled in her hair.

Briefly, her mind cleared just enough to shoot her a question of What are you doing ?

I am kissing my betrothed , she shot back, silencing the voice of reason—if that was what it even was.

Jasper nipped lightly at her lower lip, pulling a soft moan from her. He smiled, triumphant at her response, and was leaning back in to kiss her once more when there was a knock at the door.

The moment shattered.

Jasper took several steps back, combing his hair back into place with his fingers and rebuttoning his shirt, which Kindra had not even realized she'd been in the process of unbuttoning. His face was flushed a bright, fierce red. Kindra sagged against the bookshelf, chest heaving as she collected herself.

Whoever was outside knocked again.

"Who—" Kindra stammered, "who is it?"

"It is Princess Helena, my Lady," came Cerulle's reply, sounding strained, as if she knew exactly what had been transpiring in Kindra's chambers and was trying to stall for time.

Kindra shot Jasper a panicked look. She couldn't refuse Helena, and it wasn't like she could hide Jasper—she looked a flustered mess, and Helena would see right through any lies.

They were caught.

"Let her in," she conceded, and a second later the door opened to allow the golden-haired princess to waltz into the room.

And come abruptly to a halt as she took in the scene before her.

A taut moment of silence stretched between the three of them.

Then, Helena smirked—more like Emeline in that moment than ever—and said, "Well, it seems you two have managed to overcome any remaining animosity."

"Helena—" Jasper choked, shocked, but his sister cut him off with high, delighted giggle.

"Jasper, please, I'm happy for you two."

Kindra was horribly embarrassed. The heat of her passion was turning into shame, against her will. She felt like a teenager all over again, like when she'd been caught kissing Winona Daryn by the shabby village tavern in Harthwin at sixteen.

"Don't—make a fuss over it," Jasper muttered, clearly feeling the same way.

Helena, wisely, relented. "Anyway, I came to retrieve you both for dinner in my chambers with Em. Although,” she continued, seemingly unable to help herself, “if you'd rather eat something else—"

"Dinner sounds great, thank you!" Kindra hurriedly interrupted, already exiting. Behind her, Jasper hissed something inaudible to his sister, which she only responded to with another singsong laugh.

As Jasper fell in step beside her, she couldn't help but recall the last few moments. A small smile bloomed on her lips as her heart skipped in her chest with something akin to giddiness.

And when Jasper reached out to take her hand, she didn't pull away.