Sapphire Falls (The Lost Realm #2)

39. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Morgan

R ylo cradled Morgan in his arms like she was the most precious cargo he’d ever carried as they flew low through the swampy lands of the Wastewater. Despite the eagans flying ahead, Rylo refused to let Morgan down. Wouldn’t even hear her protests when she said she could ride on an eagan with him, even though he had to be as exhausted as she was.

They hadn’t slept in over a day, and the fatigue from the whole experience in Goldoth was wearing on her.

Rylo didn’t speak a word as they flew. No witty retorts for Morgan’s attempted conversation. No wry smiles. His typically expressionless face was set in hard lines, like he was ready to burn the world like the Sun incarnate that he was.

What if it had been Rylo?

What if Morgan had used that spell to burn through Rylo’s essence? He would have been the one dying in her arms, not Elio. He would be lying in a tunnel somewhere deep under the earth. And it could have easily happened that way. Morgan had no idea that the spell she wielded would be that powerful, that she wouldn’t only utilize Elio’s essence, but have the capacity to drain it.

His death was on her hands. He was dead because she acted without thinking through the repercussions, something she would never do before falling off Sapphire Falls. Unlike the other lives she’d taken, Elio was innocent, as were those creatures in the cavern. She didn’t even know if they had survived her spell. She’d fled the caves before she had a moment to find out if the blinding light had mortally wounded hundreds. Morgan may have just committed egregious crimes, just so she could retrieve a relic. The thought made bile rise in her throat.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Morgan spat out as she began gagging.

Rylo wordlessly flew her to what little solid ground he could find, setting Morgan on a stump that was jutting out of the marshy ground.

Morgan let herself expel all the horror, all the pain she’d caused those folk, into the murky grey water at her feet.

“Whatever you do, do not touch that water,” Rylo growled. He was lying across the broken log, wings dipping to mere inches above the water’s surface.

Morgan frowned as she tried to clean herself up the best she could before she collapsed at his side, bone-weary from the experiences of the last day. Her head was spinning and she didn’t know how she could stay awake much longer.

“I guess you don’t need to follow your own advice?” she asked, leaning her head close enough to inhale the spicy scent of him, envious of that scent, knowing that she probably smelled like those horrible tunnels. Her eyes drifted shut and she didn’t hear his response.

Morgan could sense that they were inside, but she didn’t have the strength to open her eyes. All she could do was lay still and feel the heat of the fire and hear the crackling of kindling. She smelled something warm and hearty cooking over the fire. Yet, she couldn’t seem to open her eyes. They felt like lead weights against her face as she felt a heated touch graze her bare arm and a fur blanket press against her.

She drifted into another restless sleep, but the warmth and comfort remained near her.

Rylo.

He was at her side, always his hot and comforting presence so close that she knew if she had the strength, she could reach up and touch him, feel the heat of his skin against the cool of her own.

Muffled voices, deep in conversation, continued around her, but she was too lost in her own exhaustion to be able to make out what they were saying.

Eventually she stirred, her eyelids opening to a ramshackle hovel with a hot fire crackling in the river stone hearth.

A gasp of horror escaped her lips as she looked at a creature that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life. Greenish-brown skin was exposed and only a loincloth covered its lower half. A broad pot belly stuck out of the creature’s midsection. Membranous bat-like wings were tucked in close to the creature’s back as it stirred a large pot over the hearth.

She turned her face to the heated touch at her hand. Rylo. He was there beside her after all.

One dimple popped in his cheek as he gave her a nearly unnoticeable smile.

“You are most likely still very tired and weak,” Rylo muttered. “You’re experiencing burnout.”

Her throat felt so dry it hurt to speak. “Where are we?”

She gave a tentative glance to the creature at the soup pot.

“In the home of Serieff. He’s a Hylax that has loyally served me for many, many years. You’re safe here, Morgan.”

As she looked around she noticed there were no other Nepheli present. “Where are the others?”

Rylo shrugged. “Flying with all haste to Nephel. Preparing our folk for the conflict to come.”

It hurt to continue speaking, but she struggled out the word, “Water.”

Rylo’s thumb began making tiny circles on Morgan’s palm. The Hylax near the pot must have heard her request for water. He brought her a wooden cup filled with a thick murky mixture before he returned to stirring, not looking at Morgan’s face during the whole exchange.

She scrunched her nose, but Rylo took the cup in his empty hand. “Drink it, Morgan, it’s safe. It will restore you.”

Morgan trusted him. She didn’t understand how she’d become so trusting of him, but she did. Rylo brought the cup to her lips and she welcomed the tangy, nutty drink, gulping it down in long draws. Immediately, her parched throat found relief and the swelling in her tongue went down.

“Why aren’t we back too?”

“You were too weak to continue flying. I wasn’t going to risk you harming yourself further. Serieff is an old friend and he welcomed us to his home. His wife has made a stew, but is with their babe at the moment. Rest. When your sister experienced burnout she slept for days.”

A chill ran down Morgan’s spine. There was only one way that Rylo would know that. It had to have been when he captured Avery. What the hell was wrong with her, to be so trusting of the man who kidnapped her own sister?

Yet, he looked at her with shining golden eyes, and she thought he might fracture if anything bad happened to her. He pulled her hand up to his lips with a tenderness that made her heart thud with a tumultuous beat in her chest. All the while, his eyes stayed on her, like he was afraid she may slip away. That her being here and awake and alive was so impossible that he couldn’t even blink, lest she disappear.

A squalling infant from the small room in the back of the cabin disturbed the moment and Morgan withdrew her hand from his.

Serieff spoke to Morgan for the first time since she’d awakened. His voice was rough, almost guttural, and she couldn’t control the shiver across her skin as he spoke. “The babe does not sleep well without my mate beside her. Even after the child has drifted to sleep, if she tries to slip away, the babe will cry out, reaching for her and will not stop until she returns the babe to her breast.”

Morgan didn’t know a thing about babies, but this seemed unusual. Movies always made it seem like human babies drifted to sleep in their cribs, little mobiles singing sweet lullabies as the mom and dad looked on from the door.

Serieff brought Morgan and Rylo rough-carved bowls ladled with the rich, hearty stew. Rylo helped Morgan sit up, propping a pillow behind her back. The ancient couch, with its threadbare leather and frayed corners, had a low back, designed to accommodate wings, and the additional pillow gave Morgan’s exhausted body the extra support she needed.

“That will pass soon enough once the babe is weaned,” Rylo replied. “It’s only natural that the babe should seek her mother while sleeping.”

Morgan wasn’t sure if she knew the man seated next to her as he dug into the stew with an appetite that was void of all his typical mannerly eating. She tasted her stew and found it to be delicious and filling, each bite seeming to restore her aching muscles and her heavy limbs. It didn’t take away her need for more sleep, but at least she didn’t feel like she’d been hit by a semi anymore.

Serieff’s mate stepped out of the back room, closing the squeaky door with a trepidation that made Morgan pity her. Trapped in the dark, alone as she walked on eggshells to escape her daughter’s needy touch. The woman wore a dingy dress that hung on her like a sack. Her hair was pulled back, revealing a face with a deep scar across her right cheek.

When Serieff saw his mate, he jumped from the wooden stool where he ate his meal and offered her the seat. Moving back to the pot, he ladled more stew into his own bowl and gave it to her.

“This is my mate, Aniel,” Serieff said as he took a seat on the floor, his broad wings draping against Aniel’s own wings. Claws at the tips of the wings moved, seeking contact from the other, like they couldn’t help but be entangled.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Morgan.”

Aniel bowed her head. “King Rylo has told us of you and your power. He also shared the importance of an alliance between the Hylax of the Wastewater, Nephel, and Latiah against the growing power in Goldoth. But tell me, what will stop you from growing in power until you cannot be contained?”

Serieff reached out a hand and took his soulmate’s in his, squeezing it tight.

Obviously, Morgan had heard about soulmates from Avery, and had seen the devotion that Kyla shared with Garnel. But, it was unexpected seeing it coming from two creatures who resembled something from a nightmare. Despite their terrifying appearance, they’d welcomed Morgan into their home, showing her more hospitality than she’d received from anyone in Aeritis. Even still, with Aniel’s question, Morgan didn’t feel unwelcome here. Just wanting to better understand what was at stake after their encounter in Goldoth.

“I’m not interested in taking over your world. I’d like to return home after I help King Rylo.” Morgan tilted her head toward Rylo and caught a moment of hurt in his expression.

Why did he have to look at her like that? Like her words meant something to him? Like she meant something to him?

Aniel gave a nod and didn’t press her further. She ate in desperate spoonfuls, sharp teeth sinking into the bits of meat. A squealing cry came from the other room as Aniel began eating faster. Serieff went to the room, shushing the babe and speaking sweetly in his guttural voice. The baby continued to cry, only growing louder as Serieff tried to appease her. Finally, Aniel stood up, placing her bowl on the stool. “She’s cutting her first teeth. She can’t sleep without me beside her due to the pain. Poor Serieff has tried to comfort her, but to no avail. Be well tonight.”

Morgan and Rylo were left alone on the old couch, silence filling the house as the baby settled down with Aniel. Morgan thought Serieff would return, but as time passed, it became evident that he was staying in their room.

She tried to stand to bring their dishes to the earthenware sink in the corner, but her head spun as she lifted herself up.

“Let me,” Rylo said, taking her bowl, as well as Serieff and Aniel’s bowl. After tidying up the bowls, he removed the pot from above the embers of the fire and threw a few more logs to light. He placed a kettle over the flames and worked to gather tea from a shelf. Only after he poured both of them a cup did he sit down.

Rylo gave her the cup and she didn’t hesitate to take it from him. He sipped from his own mug, a broad grin stretching across his face after his drink. Leaning his head back, Rylo said, “I thought I may not survive much longer without a cup of tea.”

Morgan let out a dry laugh, but still didn’t feel capable of much conversation. Of course Rylo would be desperate for a cup of tea after the day they had.

The furs were draped around Morgan and she untucked them, placing the blanket over Rylo’s lap too. She leaned close enough to feel the heat of his body warm her cool skin.

He rubbed his eyes and let out a groan. “How did he die?” Rylo asked.

Morgan closed her eyes, picturing Elio’s lifeless body on the tunnel floor. “It’s very hard for me to tell you the truth,” she said, her full teacup still in her hand. Her voice shook as she said, “I’m so tired. Can we do this later?”

She was a coward. She didn’t want to tell this man, who she’d grown to care for, or at least rely on, that she’d been the reason Elio was dead.

Rylo didn’t look at her, just shook his head. “I need to know. Elio was… He was my friend.”

“You say that like it’s a hard thing to admit,” Morgan replied.

Rylo closed his eyes again, exhaustion obvious in his body. “You would not understand. It’s my duty to be held at a higher standard than common folk.”

Morgan’s lips pursed. This tiny piece of information was more than Rylo had revealed about himself than any other interaction they’d had.

“I don’t understand why a king would deny himself friendship and relationships,” Morgan finally said. It was a risk, being this honest with him, but she took it. She couldn’t help it as her desire to better understand Rylo took over.

She listened to Rylo exhale, but he remained silent for long enough to begin to unnerve her. At last, he said, “It is difficult to form friendships or relationships when you are held at a different expectation than others, but most of all, it’s because those who have been closest to me have been taken from me. Yes, I didn’t show my friendship with Elio openly for all the court to discuss, for there to be an attack on him because of his friendship with me. It’s the same reason I keep you away from the eyes of my folk.”

Rylo placed his empty teacup on the hard-packed dirt floor and took Morgan’s hand in his, making slow, steady circles across her knuckles.

Morgan felt even worse for being the person who took Elio from him. She wanted to hide and never tell him the truth, to keep how she used then discarded Elio a secret forever from Rylo.

“You’re important to me, and for more reasons than that you could restore my nation’s borders. You challenge me in a way that nobody else has challenged me, and it’s been remarkable to see you discover your powers. When you entered my mind, I was already afraid of what Goldoth was going to do to you. They’d just shown me something beyond what magic should be capable of doing. Then they admitted to me that they were sending guards to take you away from me.”

He paused and looked at her, stroking her hand as he studied her face. His skin glowed slightly, his essence slipping out and it felt like being warmed on a summer day.

“In that moment, I knew I would destroy Maglar and Mara if they so much as touched you.” He shook his head. “I did something that will cost my nation everything. I released my essence on the king and queen and took flight. Then you were there in my mind, I could feel the fear in your speech as you warned me to escape. Morgan, I was about to break that cavern to rubble for you.”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it himself that he was capable of such strong emotions.

Morgan did the only thing she could do. She placed her hands on Rylo’s cheeks, pulling his face to hers, and she kissed him, letting her arms reach around his hard, strong back as she worked his shirt up and up, revealing glistening sun-kissed skin over rigid muscles.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Morgan murmured, regretting her foolish confession immediately, but he looked at her like she’d just given him a precious gift.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She should be confessing that she was the reason Elio was dead, not making out with Rylo on this old couch.

But she didn’t. Morgan couldn’t confess that she was the cause of Elio’s death. Not now, and maybe not ever.

She pressed her hand to the hard ridges of muscles along Rylo’s stomach and she felt him suck in a breath at her cool touch. His skin was scorching hot, like the midday sun. The glow of it cast a brilliance against her own pale skin.

He stared at her, watching her every move as she explored all the dips and curves of his chest, his stomach, his back.

Morgan whispered into his ear, “I want you to know that what I felt that night I drank the Bayberry wine has never gone away. If anything, this need for you has just gotten stronger.”

“I’ve wanted to explore you, to taste you and touch you since I first laid eyes on you,” Rylo said in a husky voice that had lost all its sweet, honeyed cadence.

Morgan shook her head. “That’s not true. You didn’t even bother to learn my name!”

Rylo pressed his body into hers, trapping her under his weight as he began to kiss her neck. “It doesn’t change that I desired your body.”

Morgan suddenly felt very self conscious. She’d once been attractive, desirable to men, but how did Rylo find her attractive with the scars on her face and body?

As if he knew what she was thinking, his kisses worked their way up to her face. He kissed her scars, caressed the raised skin with his fingers, his lips, and tongue.

She tried to hold them back, but the sting of tears began streaking down her face. How many times had she avoided a mirror since being here? Tried to not touch her face or look at the damage that made her no longer feel like herself?

“Your scars make you more attractive to me, Morgan. They tell the story of your strength and resilience.” He pulled back, looking into her tear-stained eyes. With his thumb, he brushed the tears from her damaged cheeks.

His gaze was so intense that Morgan felt raw and exposed before him, like he could see all of her, all the ugly pieces and broken bits, but he didn’t back down from them. He was truly seeing her for who she was in a way that nobody had seen.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she looked down at her hands, still pressed against his chest.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I am thinking about all the things I want to do to you; none of them are going to be appropriate with the Hylax family on the other side of these very thin walls.”

Morgan huffed out a sigh. “This is the second time you’ve cock blocked me.”

Rylo let out a dry laugh. “I plan to remedy that very soon. There’s just a lot about to happen. I’ll explain what I saw in Goldoth tomorrow after you’ve had time to recover.”

She felt the heat that was building in her wash away. “Can you at least hold me tonight? The last few days have been a lot.”

Rylo lifted her up, scooting the furs off her. He draped one on the floor and removed another from behind the worn couch. Morgan took the pillow that had been behind her head and brought it to the floor, letting the heavy wool dress she’d fled Goldoth in fall to the floor. Rylo’s eyes darkened as he looked at Morgan in her thin slip.

“Are you changing your mind about these thin walls?” Morgan asked, lying down on the fur Rylo had placed on the ground.

“Ah, I wish I were. But you’ve experienced burnout today, and I haven’t slept in almost two days. I can be a patient man. You are worth waiting so I do not fuck you for the first time on a dirt floor.”

He draped the other fur over her before he slid out of his pants and under the covers. The heat of him was intense, and she craved his warmth like a moth to the flame.

Morgan wriggled close enough to touch him, but she held back. This moment felt as fragile as an eggshell. She understood what he was saying, but to finally have him admit that he desired her was too much for her to resist the need to connect to him.

He draped an arm across her waist, tugging her close. His spicy sweet scent wrapped around her.

He said, “Thank you. For risking so much to get that relic. I should have said that to you sooner.” A whisper-soft kiss pressed against her forehead and she felt a heaviness enter his limbs as his breathing became rhythmic and steady with sleep.