Page 29 of Power of Draken

Shit. I’d been so angry when I stormed out of the lecture hall, I’d not been paying attention to my surroundings and must have said Lilith’s name aloud. And of course, the alchemist was there to hear it.

I pin Rowan with a glare she doesn’t deserve. “Shouldn’t you be worrying more about yourself?” I snap, cutting off her line of questioning, then go on the offensive. “Isn’t there enough talk of you rutting your way up the command chain without bringing me here alone? What will the neighbors think?”

She flinches, and I hate myself immediately.

“At this point, I don't think my reputation can get any worse,” Rowan says tightly. “So there didn’t seem much point in letting you bleed all over the ground. Give me your hand.”

She avoids looking at my face as she takes my palm—more gently than I deserve—and dabs the wound with a clean rag. Stars, anyone else would have dumped a bucket of fire-filled liquid on me for what I’d just said—and they’d be justified. But not her. Not Rowan.

The little alchemist is a walking contradiction. And I hurt her for no reason. I was angry at myself having paid too little attention to my surroundings, and I took it out on her.

Which, honestly, wouldn’t usually bother me. But with Rowan, it does.

“Lilith is… an adoptive sister of sorts,” I say, offering a sliver of peace. “She’s very ill.”

Rowan’s eyes widen with compassion. Of course, she forgives me already.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“It’s—” I can’t tell her it’s not her fault, because in a way it could very well be. I don't want to hurt her more, but I’d rather not lie more than I have to. “Do you have siblings?” I say instead. I know she doesn’t. At least not ones who’ve been acknowledged. We’ve found no record of who her father had been.

Rowan shakes her head. “I used to think of Collin as a brother. Our families have known each other forever and we spent a lot of time together as kids. Then the whole brother thing turned, well, distinctly un-brother like. And you know the most recent explosion there.” She tries for a light tone, but it fails spectacularly. “Maybe you should be the one worrying about being alone with the Spire whore.”

“Don’t.” I grab Rowan’s chin, forcing her face up until I can see her eyes clearly. Then I pour every ounce of command into my voice. “Don’t ever call yourself that. Not even in jest.”

She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. Not until I’m sure the message sinks in, no matter how long it takes.

Rowan's eyes flash, defiance igniting beneath the hurt. "Why don't you make up your mind, Grayson? You're the one who?—"

“- said something stupid a minute ago? I’m well aware. Which shows how little you should listen to me.”

“Except… I should listen to you now?”

“What you should do is tell me to shut up and knee me in the balls,” I say honestly. I shut my eyes for a heartbeat, my grip on her chin softening. I should pull away. I know I should. The part of my mind that’s still functioning is screaming at me to put distance between us,to remember why I’m here in Eryndor, what the alchemist truly represents.

And yet… My thumb brushes gently across her cheek, almost of its own volition. The softness of her skin sends a shudder through me, awakening sensations I really wish would stay buried.

Rowan inhales but doesn’t pull away from me. Her heart shines through her eyes, and the more I search their green brown hues for the coldness and calculation my mind demands to find in an Eryndor alchemist, the more I come up empty. Instead, I see only warmth, confusion, and a vulnerability that makes my chest ache.

Suddenly, I wish I could go back to the courtyard where Chambers had hurt her and rip out the man’s throat to stop him from ever uttering those words. I wish I could erase the sting from the cruel blows I delivered myself. Worse still, I want her to forgive me.

"I'm sorry," I hear myself murmur, my voice low and rough. The words surprise me as much as they do Rowan. "I shouldn't have said those things. You're... you're not what I expected.”

Rowan blinks and I drown. Are her eyes just hazel or are those tiny specks of silver in there too? Whatever they are, they are devastatingly dangerous and threaten to unravel all my carefully laid plans.

"And what did you expect?" Rowan whispers.

I slide my hand from her chin to the side of her face, then farther, brushing my knuckles against her hair. It’s softer and silkier than I’d imagined, and I savor the feel of it against my calloused skin. Rowan’s eyelids flutter and she leans into my touch. Not a lot, but enough to make my heart skip into a gallop.

It’s madness. I know that. I know who she is. She is… She is the one responsible for my racing heart, and halting breath, and heating skin.

"Someone easier to hate," I admit.

Her breath hitches, and my attention drops to her lips. They are so close now, close enough that I can feel the tickle of her breath against my neck. Every fiber inside me screams with the need to taste her. Would her mouth be as sweet as her scent? As intoxicating?

I lean closer, every muscle in my body coiling with the effort it takes to keep myself in check and give Rowan a chance to pull back.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she tilts her head up toward me, her fingers pressing into my bandaged hand. And I can’t hold myself in check any more. I press my mouth to hers, softer than I’ve ever done with a female. It’s worth it. A million times over. Rowan's lips are as warm as I’ve imagined, her mouth absurdly pliant as she allows me to taste her. The mixture of sweetness, citrus and something uniquely Rowan ignites a fire in my veins. In my core. And stars take me, it makes my britches feel about four sizes too tight.

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