Page 120 of Fear the Flames
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he reasons, probably thinking I only want to do it to return the favor.
“I want to.” It’ll be easier for me to talk if I’m not only focused on how badly my words make me feel. I’m naked on the surface, but my words lay an entirely different part of me bare. I also have the overwhelming urge to look at him, to touch him, to feel his eyes on me. The cut on my leg isn’t deep and has already stopped bleeding. My leathers protected me from the brunt of the hit. I shift onto my knees to look over my shoulder while kneeling between his legs.
I forget how to breathe for a moment.
The color has returned to his lips and cheeks, giving him a rosy glow. His eyes hold the same hunger as they did when he knelt in front of the fireplace, but there’s also something deeper. He’s not looking at me with only lust; he’s looking at me like there’s no other person he wants in front of him. His hands continue to rub circles on my bruises as he leans against the back of the tub. His chest, which falls up and down unevenly, looks like the perfect place to lay my head on.
I fully turn my body so I can face him properly. I’ve seen his torso plenty of times, but this is the most he has ever seen of me. His hands halt their steady movements as his heated eyes trace my body. His gaze is filled with a mixture of emotions that all border on need. His tongue slowly drags over his lips when his eyes snag on my peaked nipples. I try not to feed into the small voice that tells me to cover my chest with my arms, my breasts have always been an insecurity of mine, but I don’t want Cayden to know that. The longer he takes me in, the more anxious I grow.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles, more to himself than me. His admittance plows through my anxious thoughts and drags me back to the present. His throat bobs, “So entirely beautiful.”
He rises off the back of the tub and comes closer to me so I can wash his hair without water being poured on the floor. His hard length pokes me in the stomach, and I suck in a sharp breath while pushing my thighs closer together. He can feel me shifting between his legs, and a knowing smirk slides onto his face. He drops a hand from my ribs to circle the bruise on my thigh, careful to avoid my cut. I bite my lip to stop a moan from slipping out, but he takes the other hand off my ribs and cradles the side of my face, gently using his thumb to ease my lip from between my teeth.
We gaze into each other’s eyes; his breath warms my lips while his hand on my thigh warms everything I’m made of. My fingers gently rub some water over his cuts to get a better view of them. Thankfully, his armor took the brunt of the hits. They’ve stopped bleeding, but the cut on his arm should be bandaged. I’ll search the room for a healing kit after we’re done bathing. I reach out and place my hands on his chest, dancing my fingers over the scars that litter his skin.
“Please talk to me. It’s killing me, angel,” he whispers a few inches from my lips. The protectiveness in his tone only heightens my reaction to him. I’ve always despised being protected; I always thought it made me weak, but Cayden knows I can handle myself, and chooses to protect me anyway.
I pull away slightly to grab the tin bowl he left on the side of the tub. I won’t be able to concentrate on anything other than his lips if I stay this close to him. “Chin up, soldier,” I smile while tapping my nails against the tin. His lips quirk up, but he obeys my order. His eyes move to look at the ceiling since he can no longer look at me with his head angled like this.Don’t kiss his neck, Elowen. Focus.I raise myself up and pour water onto his hair. I gently stroke my fingers through, and push the hair off his forehead as his eyes slide shut. I wonder if anyone else has taken care of him. I selfishly hope that I’m the first to touch him like this.
“The amulet was the key to destroying the chains that held the dragons,” I begin. “The chains were enchanted, which was why Garrick kept the dragons in a room with windows, it was to taunt them. After the chains broke, they whirled on me.”
A wave of guilt floods through me while I reach for the soap bottle. I uncap it and squirt a decent amount into my hands before returning to his hair. His hands have moved back to their comforting place on my ribs. “They started to circle me as I tried to apologize. I didn’t even know if they could understand me.” The first sign of rising emotion is the tightness in my throat. I take a break from talking to wash the soap from his hair. “They hit me with their tails.”
His eyes snap open in alarm, and water trickles down his sharp cheekbones and drips off his chin. He regards my bruises with a careful eye, and a crease of worry forms between his brows, “Did you try to run?”
“No,” I blink away the mist in my eyes, “I took the hits.”
He goes deadly still, “Why?”
I don’t answer him right away; instead, I tip my head down and take in my bruises. He watches me in silence, waiting for an answer. I bring a wet hand to my ribs and brush them along my bruises. The one on the right is worse; it was the first one they gave me. It stretches from the side of my breast and ends close to my belly button. The one on the left is about half the size. A tear slips from the corner of my eye before I can stop it, “Because I deserve it.”
He yanks me back down by my hips and cradles my face in his hands. He swipes the rogue tear from my cheek and brings his lips forward to kiss the trail it left on my face. “Don’t think that. Don’t you dare think that, Elowen. You don’t deserve these.”
“Yes, I do.” I’m unable to stop the onslaught of emotions. Gods, I hate crying, but the tears won’t stop. “I was small and weak from living in the dungeon, but I should have found a way to get back to them.”
“Shh,angel, stop. It’s okay.” He continues to kiss my cheeks wherever tears fall.
“Gods, I’m sorry for getting like this,” I try to pull away from him, embarrassed for letting him see me like this. “I’m fine, I just got overwhelmed for a second, but I’m fine.”
“Listen to me, Elowen.” He keeps my face framed between his hands as his eyes blaze into mine. “You were a child when you left Imirath. Most soldiers with a lifetime of experience would never even consider going back to a place where they suffered in the ways you did. You are so incredibly brave, and for whatever it’s worth, I’m so proud of you. The dragons want you, they responded to your call in the forest, and I know for a fact that they’ll find you in Vareveth. You do not deserve any pain that is dealt to you. You endure it, but that doesn’t mean you deserve it.” More tears slip from my eyes, but it’s not because of my guilt—it’s because of him. For the words that hold me together when my guilt threatens to rip me to smithereens.
“You’re proud of me?” I ask as a small smile chisels a crack in my tears. I don’t remember the last time someone said they were proud of me. It’s such a small series of words, but when someone you value is truly proud of you, they mean an indescribable amount.
“Of course, I am,” he murmurs while leaning his forehead against mine. I reach up to where his hands rest on my cheeks and twine our fingers together.
“Sometimes I just feel so guilty,” I pause, “for surviving.” The dragons are far from dead, but he knows what I mean. Life in a cage isn’t actually living.
He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. His hands tighten around mine as he brings a set of our joined hands forward to place my hand on his right cheek. He swallows before opening his eyes, “I know.”
I keep my face open and breathing neutral; I’m worried I’ll scare him off if I show too much of a reaction. “Will you tell me what happened?” I whisper, running my thumb from the top of his scar, right next to his eye, to the bottom of his scar, close to his lips.
“Not while we’re here,” he shakes his head. My heart aches for him, someone like Cayden doesn’t seem like he had much of a childhood.
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.” My heart squeezes in my chest, and I quickly cover the pained expression on my face. He was just a boy.
“You can talk to me whenever you feel comfortable and give me the whole story or only the details you’re ready to share. I told you that I’ll never judge you, and that is an unyielding promise. Whoever you were when you got that scar would be so proud of the man you’ve become,” my voice wavers slightly. “And please know that I’m so grateful you survived whatever it was because I’m very thankful I met you. I’m proud of you, too, for whatever it’s worth.”
