Between Tides Thunder(34)

Tears prick my eyes. I want to scream. He’s so tidescursed selfish.

I can convince him. I need to convince him. He’s so close to breaking, I can taste it.

“I’m a virgin, Zev,” I whisper huskily. “You can be the first to—”

A pained, guttural growl claws from his throat. He stalks over to me and violently tears off a strip from the blanket. His eyes are wild, but his hands are gentle as he presses the cloth between my teeth and winds it behind my head. His fingers tremble as he ties the knot—too tight, then too loose, then too tight again. He curses softly under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says, when it’s done, dragging a hand through his hair. Tears stream down my cheeks as he tucks his cloak over me. He swallows hard, once, twice, then rises and sits a few paces away.

I fall asleep tied up and gagged, with the taste of rejection on my tongue and the heat of desire pulsing in my veins.





CHAPTER TWENTY




I’M IN MY BEDROOM in Tundrayn—ice-white walls, heavy furs thrown over fevered skin. There’s an ache, an unbearable ache seizing my body. A breathy moan escapes my parted lips.

I’m not alone.

The scrape of stubble on my thighs, calloused hands spreading my legs.

Hot kisses on hotter skin. A nimble, searching tongue.

A quick swipe through pooled slick—too soft, too light. I need more.

My back arches, a desperate mewl echoing in the cold room.

A low, sinful chuckle. Another decadent kiss.

“Is this what you want, baby?” a gravel-rough voice rasps, and I know, I just know, he smells of smoke and pine.

A searing trail kissed up my belly, between my breasts, teeth nipping my fluttering pulse.

Warm breath fanning my neck, fingers skimming heaving ribs.

Too little. Too much. Not enough.

All I know is I’m empty. I’m so empty.

Muscled arms braced on either side of my head, stormy gray eyes dark with desire.

“Say it, Mayah,” he commands, his nose nudging mine.

I’ll say whatever he wants. Do whatever he demands.

“Zev.” His name is a plea, a prayer. “Zev, please.”

Wanton. Desperate.

His weight presses down, covering me—he’s hard everywhere I’m soft, and I’m ready, I’m—

Sunlight warms my face, chasing away the remnants of blissful sleep. I shift slightly, and my thighs slide together, an embarrassing amount of wetness pooled between them. The hazy dream flickers through my mind, and my face warms even more.

I try to sit up, but I can’t. My mouth is painfully dry.

I’m tied up.

“What—” My voice is hoarse and raspy, like I’ve swallowed broken glass. I try to move, but I’m unbalanced with my hands bound behind my back. Awareness slowly trickles in, anger quick to follow. “Untie me right now!”

“Are you feeling like yourself?” Zevayr asks, restrained amusement coloring his tone. He’s sitting a few feet away, watching me closely.

I’m about to curse him and his ancestors when my gaze snags on his neck—dark red bruises stark against his skin.

Ones I’d sucked into his flesh with my lips and teeth.

Last night’s events crash back into me with the force of a tsunami.

Tides drown me. Tides sweep me away into cold, unforgiving depths. Tides flood my lungs and make me yours.

It would be a mercy.

My face burns with humiliation.

The things I did—the things I said.

“I’ll take your reddening face as a yes.” Zevayr strides over and unties his belt from my wrists, then removes the rope from my ankles.

His hands linger as he massages circulation back into my wrists. There’s a quiet tension in his jaw, and his eyes are shadowed, like he didn’t sleep at all.

“I removed the gag after you fell asleep,” he explains, an apology in his tone.

I can’t meet his gaze.

Wordlessly, I rise and eat my breakfast in silence.

Tides, how will I ever face him again?

If only we had an earthwielder with us. He could split the ground beneath me and let the earth swallow me whole. Maybe I should ask Zevayr to incinerate me with lightning. Maybe if I try hard enough, I could stop my own heart. Or maybe if we find a stream—

Zevayr clears his throat, dancing eyes lingering on my warm cheeks. “Remember when I said I had shared my power before? It was one of my soldiers—a powerful earthwielder. We were running low on food, all our reserves near drained. Normally, he could grow an entire field—carrots, potatoes, berries—ready to harvest, in about an hour.

“But he’d been injured in the last battle and hadn’t fully recovered. So I channeled some of my power into him. And he grew enough food for two battalions in thirty minutes. But afterward…” Zevayr chuckles. “It took eight men to restrain him. He kept trying to sneak into my tent.”

I want to scowl. Or crawl into a hole and never emerge. But when Zevayr says, “he kept trying to sneak into my tent,” I lose it. A startled laugh bursts from my lips.

Zevayr grins, bright and unguarded.

“What did you do?” I ask, still giggling.

“He injured his guards with his wielding. After that, we used valerian root to sedate him. His wife still lords it over him.”