I shatter to pieces.
It is brilliant. Blinding. I throw my head back as I fall apart, teeth bearing down to contain a cry as waves of sheer exaltation wash through me. Soren’s throaty groan of release rings out at the same moment his maegic swells down the bond, infusing my very soul with stardust.
It takes several long moments for the pleasure to ebb. When it does, I am left with the hollow echo of disbelief. I can hardly wrap my mind around the shocking intimacy of the moment we have just shared.
He did not touch my skin, did not kiss me, did not even come within a stone’s throw of my body. Still, I feel flayed open, as though he has split my rib cage with a sword and peered inside my chest cavity.
All the feelings I pushed aside when caught up in the moment of blinding satisfaction come crashing back. Embarrassment, surely, but also an intractable sense of guilt. I tell myself I have done nothing wrong. I have committed no betrayal.
So why is my skin aflame with mortification? Why does my pulse pound twice its normal speed? Why is my head even more tangled with contradictory emotions than it was in the wake of the Frostlander battle?
The godsdamned siren song, that’s why.
It must be. There is no other explanation for my wanton display, for caving to my basest bodily instincts. Soren and I had both been momentarily lost in it. That’s all this was. A lapse in judgment, stirred by forces beyond our control. An aberration, never to be repeated. As soon as we awaken tomorrow, fresh eyed and clear headed, things will go back to normal.
They must.
There is no other option.
If Soren senses my brimming disquiet, he does not comment on it. He seems caught up in his own thoughts as we climb fromthe pool and locate our discarded clothing. He says nothing as we dress, though he whisks the water away from my skin before it can settle into the fabric with a wave of maegic that whispers across every part of me. My cheeks burn as I recall the feeling of that touch beneath the water. I am grateful for the darkness, so he cannot see the blush.
We make our way back to the city side by side, our footfalls soundless as we walk along the narrow sliver of sandbar that remains. Soon, it will disappear altogether. Our silence lingers as we cut through the stone passage, and throughout the winding walk along the canals that leads to the royal grounds.
With each step up the many stone flights to the villa, my thoughts grow more murky, my feelings more tangled. I do not know what to say to the man at my side any more than he seems to know what to say to me. We are swimming in uncharted waters.
Should I make a joke about it? Laugh it off, as though it was nothing? Or would it be better to pretend it had not happened at all—a mutual agreement to move on without ever addressing our shared submission to the most hedonistic of impulses?
I have no answers.
It is not until we reach the door to my suite that he finally breaks the heavy quiet. His voice is oddly serious.
“Rhya.”
My hand freezes on the handle. I am too cowardly to turn and look at him; afraid of what I might see in his eyes when I do. “Don’t.”
He pauses. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t say anything. I’m not…” I swallow hard and lean my forehead against the wood panel, where carvings of coral and seashells press back at me. “I can’t. Okay? Not now.”
He moves close to my back. So close, I can feel the heat of hischest. I still, terrified he is going to touch me; equally terrified he won’t. But he holds back, maintaining a small sliver of space between us.
“I only wanted to say good night,” he whispers, breath stirring the hair at my nape. There is another pause—this one longer. I think he might not say anything else. But then…
“You aren’t ready for the things I want to say to you,” he says finally. “So, I’ll wait.”
I suck in a breath.
He’d wait?
His voice warms a shade, returning to something more like his normal sardonic tones. “Gods know, I’ve had enough practice at it.”
With that, he walks away, long strides carrying him down the hall to his chamber. I remain there, frozen in place with my forehead digging into the wood, until I hear the click of his thick crystalline door. Only then do I haul in a breath and step inside my suite.
Chapter
nineteen
“How was the rest of your evening?” Yara asks the following morning, eyes scanning me up and down. “You look like you haven’t slept.”