Page 53 of Fear the Flames
“Elowen,” Saskia’s voice wavers, “nothing will happen while you’re asleep. I—” she cuts herself off when a loud bang rises from downstairs.
“Drugged! She wasfucking drugged!” Cayden’s voice booms as heavy footsteps bound up the stairs, and the door slams open just as my legs give out again. A pair of strong arms wrap around me, and my face is shoved into a chest covered in black leather and silver steel. I would know it’s Cayden even if I didn’t hear his voice downstairs. I can recognize him by the scent of his skin and the way his hands grip me like I’m a lifeboat in a storm.
“You’re here,” I whisper while reaching my arms up to wrap around his neck. The cut on my arm throbs, but all I can focus on is Cayden’s presence.
“I’ll always come for you, angel.” My heart clenches when his tender tone reaches my ears. I didn’t realize how much I missed the sound of his voice. Another wave of dizziness washes over me, and I force myself to separate from him so I can begin pacing again.
I just have to keep moving.
Less than half of the sedative got into me.
I’m fine, and if I’m not, then I’ll force myself to be fine.
“Hey,” Cayden grabs my hands, but rather than stopping me, he starts to walk with me. Saskia must have slipped from the room when he came in—there’s no sign of her other than a turned-down bed. “What’s going on in your head?”
“I can’t,” I mumble. My attention is back on moving one foot in front of the other.
His hands travel to my forearms while he walks backward in front of me, “Can’t do what?”
“I can’t.” The knot tightens in my throat. I hate being scared. It’s not an emotion I often feel, which is why it’s so hard to deal with it when I do feel it. “I can’t be defenseless,” I hoarsely whisper. Saying it out loud causes my body to wrack with shivers. I’d rather face three assassins than not have control over my own body.
Cayden stops in front of me and takes my face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over my cheekbones. “You’re always safe with me.” He begins to slowly walk me toward the bed. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be with you from the second you fall asleep to the moment you wake up. I’m not going to leave you again.” The backs of my thighs brush against the soft bedding. I know he’s telling the truth, but it’s not only the outright sincerity in his eyes that comforts me; it’s the fact that I know this is Cayden. It’s the version of himself that he hides behind ice and harsh glares, the part of him that I know will truly be here when I wake up. It’s the same version of him that told me to guide his hands in my bathtub, that bandaged my hands outside the temple. He protects me because he needs me to achieve his goals. Maybe it’s the sedative mingling with my brain, but he’s looking at me differently. He’s looking at me like nobody and nothing else exists outside of this room.
“What if it takes me five days to wake up?” I jest because I know I’m fighting off the inevitable. I don’t want to talk about succumbing to the sedative; I want a distraction before I fall asleep.
“Then I’ll be a bedridden bastard,” he replies while lifting me and placing me on the bed. If I wasn’t so tired, I might laugh at the feared Commander of Vareveth tucking me in before adjusting my pillows and taking a seat on the bed next to me.
“I’m sorry for commandeering your bed without your permission,” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else,” he murmurs.
A lazy smile spreads across my face at his words, but it quickly falls. “Finnian?”
“He’s safe. My soldiers caught up to him while I was riding here.” I feel myself let go of the last thing my mind was gripping to keep me awake. Cayden’s eyes harden, and his shoulders stiffen again; his sneer morphs the shape of his scar. It makes me want to reach out and cup his face like he did to me, but my heavy hand lies motionless on the comforter. He’s out of my reach in more ways than one. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I shut my eyes against my rising emotions. The sedative is making it harder to suppress my mood swings. I’m relieved he’s safe, but the way he looked at me before he turned the corner is still a fresh wound. “No,” I force through my tight throat.
“Look at me, angel.” One of his hands cups my cheek again, and the other brushes through my hair. “What were you going to write to me tonight?”
My eyes slowly open at the mention of our letters. His sneer is gone, and it’s replaced by a calm expression. I’m glad he’s not talking about the assassins; it would just make me try to force myself to stay awake more than I already have. “I was going to tell you that I read the books you recommended to me, and I was going to recommend some to you. But my recommendations are much more enthralling.”
“Oh, are they?” He softly smiles down at me, continuing his soothing strokes. My hands brush against the soft comforter while finding his wrist and holding his hand against my cheek.
“Mhmm. I also would have said that your letter was the second-best part of my day.” It was the first, it was always the first, but I’ll never tell him that.
He rolls his eyes, “What’s my competition this time?”
“I wore a new dress.”
His tongue tucks into the side of his cheek, “You’re a tough woman to please.”
“Intimidated?” I raise my brows.
“Intrigued,” he corrects. “I must confess for the first time in my life I’m jealous of the stuffy puppets.”
“TheCommander Veles jealous of advisors?” I gasp. “This is monumental.”
“My motives are justified,” he licks his lips, “you see, they’ve been spending the last two weeks with you, and the only parts I got of you were written on paper. That doesn’t seem fair to me.”
