Page 39 of Fear the Flames
“Excuse me,” I mutter while slipping out of his hold and stepping around him. I’m not in the mood for his teasing right now. I make it one step before his hand shoots forward, grabbing my hand and spinning me back around to face him.
“Hey,” he says while tugging me back, “what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing,” I bite out, pulling my hand from his hold again. Physical touch is too much for me to deal with right now. He has on his calculating face, and I know he’s mentally logging that I’m shying away from his touch. “Do you need to talk to me?” My boot taps against the tile floor as my mind closes in on itself; I need air.
“Where were you running to?” he inquires.
“Outside.” I can’t stop myself from pulling on my collar.
“There’s an exit up ahead, come on.”
I follow his long strides to the exit and feel the pressure being lifted from my body when the sky is high above me, and no walls surround me. My heart steadies as the cool breeze washes over my face. The black spots clear from my vision, and I feel like I can think properly again. My clothes don’t feel like a cage anymore.
I promptly remember Cayden escorting me out of the castle, and I turn my head to find him staring at me, frowning. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask.
“You almost died last night. I was coming to check on your bruises before you caked all that on,” he says while gesturing to my neck.
“Did you expect me to waltz around the castle with them on full display?” I retort.
“No, which is why I wanted to see you before you left your room,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “You should wipe it off.”
I bite my tongue and mirror his stance. The bruises were too tender for me to fully cover them. The sitting room Finnian and I chose was dimly lit, so Ailliard didn’t notice them, but natural light exposes everything.
“I’ll make sure to consult you on my brush strokes next time I apply foundation.” I’m glad to see we’re back to normal. I press my hand into my sore neck and begin wiping the makeup off.
He sighs while taking a step forward, “Let me help you.”
My body jolts when his hand makes contact with my neck. I recall him saying those exact words to me last night, right after he asked me to guide his hands. His throat muscles flex as his hand softly coils around the back of my neck. The gentleness of his touches will never fail to shock me.
“Tell me if I’m using too much pressure.” His voice is low and soft. He covers his thumb with his black cloak, and softly drags it down the column of my neck. My pulse quickens due to his proximity, and I know he can feel it. The thumb that’s coiled at the base of my ponytail begins rubbing soothing circles that make me want to melt. I hate that he can affect me like this, and I hate that he’s so close he can both see and feel my physical reaction to him. The only bonus is that I can see his reaction to me as well—dilated pupils, parted lips, and the pulse in his neck beats just as rapidly, if not more so, than mine.
“Why did you want me to take the makeup off?” I whisper. Nobody is around us, but it feels like one of those moments that we’ve escaped into an alternate universe.
“I want you to look at yourself and see what I see,” he says, matching my quiet tone.
My lips part, “What do you see?”
There’s no trace of teasing in his eyes or his tone, “A survivor.” His gaze travels from my neck to my eyes. “A survivor that can handle any threat and doesn’t need to hide her bruises because she did more damage with a glass shard than her assassin did during a prepared attack.” My eyes widen, and my pulse stutters. The hands that dangle helplessly at my sides long to reach out and touch him.
“Cayden…” my voice trails off. He makes my emotions ping back and forth so vigorously that my brain has whiplash. I force my eyes to stay on his, but my mind strays to his scar. Is that what he thinks when he looks in the mirror every day? He doesn’t say anything, but his hands are still on me, and it doesn’t feel overwhelming like it did only moments ago. The wind carries a few dark brown strands across my face, which Cayden quickly reaches up from my neck to brush away.
“Who made you upset, angel?” he asks, tone raspy. His fingers glide down my cheekbone, and I blame the chill that travels up my spine on the fact I’m not wearing a cloak. I need him to take his hands off me, and yet…I can’t bring myself to push him away. But I don’t need to because the sound of footsteps bounding down the hall pops our bubble. He slowly removes his hands from the back of my neck and cheek, gliding his fingers against my skin like he’s trying to savor the feel of me.
“Elowen!” Finnian’s voice echoes against the stone. I watch his lanky frame bound down the hall. A second figure is swiftly walking toward us, much further back than Finnian. Not as tall, and more so on the stocky side.
I twiddle with the strands of my ponytail. “I think you should go,” I mutter to Cayden. But Cayden does the opposite; he takes a step closer to me, close enough for me to feel his body heat.
“He’s an ass when he’s upset,” Finnian says once he gets close enough. “Do you want to get out of the castle today? I’ll blow off the meeting.” I know that this is his way of saying:Ifyou need to find a place to scream, I’ll find it with you.
“Don’t skip the meeting,” I poke him in the side. “I’m fine. I just needed some air.” He doesn’t look completely convinced, but he doesn’t push me. It’ll be good for him to have a normal day here, even if it’s away from me.
“Please, Elowen, let’s talk,” Ailliard pleads once he steps through the exit. Finnian’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You two should get to the meeting.” My smile is forced; it’s the one I use every day that nobody other than Finnian can see past. That is until I met Cayden.
“It doesn’t start for two hours.” Ailliard takes another step forward. I just want to melt into the earth. Cayden places his hand on my lower back, and I’m shocked that the feeling of it comforts me rather than unnerves me. Nevertheless, I lean into his hold, silently telling him it’s okay to touch me, and his fingers begin trailing a line up and down my spine.
“Her Majesty has promised her morning to me,” Cayden states. “I intend to hold her to it.”
