Page 80 of The Flame and the Forsaken

Destin laughed without humor. “Oh, I know damn well you do not.” He sat next to her. “But closing down... lashing out... You’ve seen how it destroys others. You think I liked my spirits because I’m weak?”

Mariel softened. “I never thought you were weak, Des.”

“Aye, well I am, in a way, because I see you doing what I’ve always done to myself. At even a glimmer of happiness, I shut down. I sabotage it before it can become anything real, for then I can wallow in a suffering that’s safer than risking myself for the chance at joy.”

“What do you suggest then, eh? I cannot watch...” Mariel’s eyes stung with tears. “I hate feeling so... I won’t be his second choice.”

“Give him a chance to prove you’re not.”

“The proof is not mine to make!”

“Give him achance,Mar.”

“You saw?—”

“A man whose behavior was being closely watched, by dozens of people waiting for him to fuck up. Do you count yourself among them?”

Mariel balked. “I wasn’twantinghim to fuck up.”

“Do you not think his own wife should be the one he can turn to, to talk about it?”

“To talk about his love for another woman?”

“You’re doing it again.” Destin shook his head. “If you really want to know where he stands,askhim, Mariel. Do you not owe him that much, at least? After everything you went through together? Would you not expect the same from him?”

“And if I don’t like the answer?”

Destin smiled thinly. “At least you’ll have one.”

An attendant showedMariel to her apartments. She’d expected to be alone and was surprised Erran was already there. He lifted from his chair the moment she came in, and he marched over and swept her into his arms with so much force, she forgot how to breathe.

He wrapped his hands under her ass and pulled her lower lip through his teeth. “I missed you,” he purred.

“Did you—” Mariel’s words dissolved when he backed her to a wall with a breath-stealing thud. Soon he was between her legs, yanking away her trousers, his fingers brushing the length of her and stealing her questions, which she needed to ask, and should ask, before she allowed even another second of intimacy.

It wasn’t long at all before pleasure took the place of reserve. Then he was inside of her, her legs draped over his arms as he drove in so deep, she dug her nails into the wall to dull the sting of pain.

He watched himself take her, growing harder with every thrust. Her mouth watered with the thrill of such a fervent tryst, the realization she wished he would treat her like that more often, like she was the last drop of water in an endless desert. The thought pushed her over the edge, and she buried a scream in her sleeve as she climaxed.

Erran finally lifted his gaze to hers. His eyes narrowed in alarm. “Am I hurting you?”

“Nay,” she lied, because even though she knew it wasn’t her he was thinking of, she still craved the demand of his touch. She’d allowed herself to be weakened by him, but even that wasn’t enough to push him away, as she should.

“Guardians, you...” Erran panted, his eyes rolling back as he came in a violent spasm. He gently lowered her and staggered back. “I’m sorry if that was... I just missed you.”

It was the quickest sex they’d had yet, and she was ashamed to have enjoyed it so much. Ashamed to have been turned on by how electrified he’d been about his ex, as though Mariel drew power from the self-hatred his desire for Yesenia had caused.

“Think nothing of it,” Mariel murmured, reaching for her trousers before he could see even more of her tears.

Chapter17

Our Old Spot

The morning delivered a lovely, balmy breeze wisping through the curtains, the only thing separating their room from the elements. Erran was still fast asleep after his bold showing the night before. Mariel wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened, or think about her own role in their hungered rendezvous, which was even less clear to her in the dawn of day.

Mariel wandered down one identical hall after another until she happened upon the double kitchens. One side was full with staff readying for the day. She was more at home with the bustle of usefulness, but they wouldn’t see it that way. They’d grow quiet at her presence, nervously waiting for her to make a request or leave. She was on the opposite end of the social hierarchy now. Nothing she said would change their feelings.

Mariel opted for the calm side, hoping to find at least a pot for boiling and a jar of tea leaves.

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