Page 30 of Agor the Merciless
“What are you saying?”
“She’s not craving you, captain. She’s craving the curse in this jar. Her body needs the magic, not your touch. The ritual you share is simply the means to receive it.”
Agor stared at Lyra. He didn’t want to believe her. Zoe’s need had to be for him. The idea that she wanted only the magic hurt his pride. The thought that he had harmed her, that he had changed the woman he chose into someone desperate and weak, was even worse. He’d damaged what he should haveprotected. But admitting that meant accepting his role in what was happening. It meant accepting he had been wrong.
Rejecting Lyra the Mage was easier than accepting what she said.
His hand shot out, snatching the jar from her grasp.
“You are mistaken, mage. My mate wants what I give her. She needs me, not some curse in a jar.”
“Captain, please listen…”
“Enough. I chose Zoe because she was strong enough to handle what others could not. She remains strong. Your concern is noted but unnecessary.”
Lyra started to speak again, but Agor turned his back on her, ending the conversation. He tucked the jar into his belt pouch and rejoined Durnak the Morose, pointing again to the forest as if their discussion had never happened.
She stood there for a moment. Agor had ended the conversation, and Lyra understood why. The captain wasn’t just guarding his pride. He was protecting the hope that he hadn’t ruined the mate he’d searched for with such ardor.
***
Agor the Merciless walked through the tunnels toward his and his bride’s chamber, one hand touching the wall to guide his path. The clay jar bumped against his hip with each step, reminding him of his conversation with Lyra the Mage. He would go to Zoe, perform their ritual, and prove the mage wrong. She was young, after all. What did she know? He turned the final corner and paused to light a torch in the wall bracket, then pushed aside the curtain.
Zoe lay on their bed, wrapped in several furs. Pira knelt beside her, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. His mate’s body shook, her skin pale, her hair wet with sweat and stuck to her face.
Pira looked up and stood abruptly.
“The shaking stops and starts. The tea Lyra taught me how to make does little to help.”
She collected her water skin and cloths, then nodded to Agor as she left the chamber. Agor knelt on the stone floor beside the bed.
Zoe’s eyelids fluttered. She blinked several times before her gaze found his face.
“Agor…”
“I’m here.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.
She grabbed his wrist, her fingers digging into his skin.
“Do you have it? Did Lyra give it to you?”
“Have what?”
“The jar.” Her gaze inspected him from head to toe. “She took it from me. I just need a little.” She leaned closer, voice dropping. “Just enough to stop the pain.”
“Zoe…”
“Please, Agor. I need it. Just a little.”
Agor studied her face – her bloodshot eyes, her dry lips, the need that changed her features. He reached for his belt pouch and pulled out the jar, holding it between them. Her attention immediately shifted from his face to the container. Her hands reached for it, fingers stretching toward the jar, not toward him. She didn’t see him anymore; she needed the magic.
Agor looked at his mate for the first time in weeks. This wasn’t the woman who’d met his gaze with courage when he chose her at the institute. This wasn’t the female who talked about engines and tools with excitement. The sick person before him was not the mate he had claimed. He’d done this to her. Through his needs and his pride, he’d broken the one he’d sworn to protect.
Chapter Sixteen
Agor scooped Zoe up into his arms. She trembled against his chest as sweat dampened her hot skin. Her fingers patted his pockets and belt, searching.
“Where is it?”
