Kier
I can’t sleep. I’m strung up too tight, and my dreams are overwhelmed by Zephyr on a fruitless search for something in the wild. I wake with ash in my mouth and torn sheets, hungry beyond comprehension. It’s been like this since I walked into Jessamine’s dream—though she hates to admit that it was hers.
The clothes in my dresser are unexpectedly a comfortable fit, and I change into a pair of long, black pants that seem to expand as I pull them up. I have no idea what the material is, but when I return home, I’ll have them recreate this. It’d be comfortable for the men’s training than fighting leathers.
All the shirts are odd, different from the usual designs for tunics, but I find that I might like them as well, when the white I slip on fits rather snugly. Lloyd would love these.
A sudden bout of sadness clutches at my chest and I sigh heavily, walking out of my room. I turn left and right, trying to recall where to go. A small man named Coral had given me a tour, but I was too busy thinking about Jessamine to actually note the way to the small pool.
I venture left, walking past a few castle guests, with arms around each other, keeping their drunken selves upright. It brings to memory that night with Jessamine by the railings. It feels like all of that happened a lifetime ago. She's a much different person now and I'm...still a dick, I suppose. Everytime I try to say something nice to her, or apologize, I end up saying something else. I didn't think I was wrong to banish her. It was the only way I could save her, as opposed to what she wanted.
She wanted me to fight for her. I'm an Alpha. A King. A few months ago, I had other things to worry about. Things that didn't include fighting for a woman's affection. I had a pack to look after. A kingdom to care for. Women to bed and please. Now, I have a Luna who drives me mad because I won't touch her. A mate that's driving me insane with her indifference. A war that suffocates me. A best friend to save. A kingdom to protect. A mother to exile...or execute. A wolf that's hell bent on killing me in my sleep. Nightmares that have returned, all from the weeks leading up to my father's demise.
All I want, is a place of rest.
I can't even have that.
A loud growl interrupts my sulking and I frown at the frustrated sigh that follows. My gaze narrows at the large door to what seems to be a hall and I wonder who might be lurking behind at this time of the night. There's a single guard outside and the closer I come to him, the more familiar he looks. I believe Jessamine called him Az earlier.
Serpent green eyes meet mine and a small bow follows. He crosses his arms against his chest, a sword hilt peeking out from underneath. "I wouldn't advise you go in there," he pauses and another growl ripples from inside, along with the sound of a loud thud. "The princess prefers to train alone."
"She's..hitting someone?"
Az gives me a funny look. "Think a person could take that? That's the punching bag. Eight bags tonight, three more than the usual. She's pissed."
"How often does this happen?" I ask quietly.
"Everyday."
I hesitate outside the door. Thinking hard about what I could possibly say to her right now that would help. I come up with nothing and enter anyway. I'm introduced to a vast space filled with--there's so much equipment, my training hall couldn't compare. It's as though, in the years our kingdoms broke apart, Dawn has spent time building, collecting, upgrading. This place makes my weaponry look like a child's play room.
There's a bouldering wall to my right and monkey bars by the rings. The floors are covered in black, as are the walls. My eyes stop roaming the space when they focus on Jessamine. Her clothes are unlike anything I've seen on a lady. They cling to her sleek figure, hugging the new lean muscle and devastating curves all too well. Her hands and midsection are exposed, as is her chest. The small material covering her breasts strains as she swings her fist, the bag exploding upon impact.
Her hair is tied up in a messy ponytail atop her head--it is longer now--and the tip dances between her shoulder blade as she leaps, delivering a kick mid air. She drops on her heels silently, panting. She's wearing pants like mine. Only tighter, and I marvel at how much her backside seems to have increased since we last met. A generous, frightening amount.
She huffs a breath, eyes of amethyst glaring at the destroyed bag as she wipes the swear from her neck.
"Looks like you need a new bag."
She starts, surprised at my presence, but she recovers quickly, clenching her fists. "I take it that you're volunteering?"
I look between Jessamine and the bag, and without struggle, I shrug off my shirt. "I'm more durable."
"Go away."
"Scared?" I murmur, turning a circle around her, feeling excited and alive for the first time in a long time. Zephyr purrs, pleased as I take in her finger. Take in all of her. She is breathtaking. And very angry.
Claws tickle the tips of her fingers, but they're gone in the next second. "I can smell you, you know. You reek of desperation. Is it my touch you seek? Perhaps a punch would suffice? Even the barest of contacts would get you off? Does it make you hard, thinking of me beating you to a pulp?"
Yes, yes it does, I think as I tighten in my pants. Goddess. I must have lost my mind. Now, it is all I can think of. Her words have put pictures in my mind. I think of tackling her against the ring, cutting that miserable material and squeezing her enticing breasts in my hands. I wonder if they're still as soft as they used to be.
I'm lunging for her without even realising it and I don't see her move, until she kicks my feet out from under me. I stagger, falling back, but I catch myself, crouching on one knee. I lift my gaze to her and all I get from her is an irritated look. "You sure talk and move a lot for a punching bag. Scared I might break something if you stood still?"
I rise to my feet, grinning. "You couldn't break me. You love me too much to hit--"
Her fist connects with my nose and my head snaps back. My vision blurs and my nose throbs with pain. I bare my teeth at her, snarling as blood seeps down from it. "You broke my nose!"
"Does it hurt?" she offers, before spinning, swinging her elbow for my chin next. I'm faster, dodging it without half a thought. She throws a combination of punches and kicks, and when none of them hit their mark, she grows visibility irked.
"If you're trying to hurt me, you're doing terribly," I mutter, wiping my nose. The bleeding has stopped and it takes a sharp groan from me to set it back in place. "Because that is what you're trying to do, isn't it? Hurt me back. I don't buy the 'I'm so in love with Darrock' bullshit you're trying to sell to me."
Jessamine comes at me, slamming into me with inexplicable force and her fists barrage my stomach in a series of blows, and they hurt like hell. There's blood in my mouth and I cough, unable to hide the pain anymore. "Fuck, what do they feed you here?" I spit, catching her hands in mine, trapping them against my chest. They fit right there.
She looks up and for the briefest of seconds, she's in there. The woman I know. And then, she headbutts me, shattering my nose again. My grip on her hands loosen and she rams her elbow into my jaw.
I stumble a step back, breathing hard, and I see I'm not alone. She's shaking her head, left and right, squinting hard and wiping the blood pooling underneath her nose. She cusses under her breath and laughs a little, a sound of disbelief. "You don't matter, Kier. I don't need to hurt you back. Your life already is a miserable mess. Who, in their right minds, would want to be entangled with all of that?"
Her words hit too close to home. Way too close, and I find that for a moment, it's hard to breathe. "You didn't mind all of that when--"
"A suggestion for you. Stop living in the past. Move on. I have." Her voice is mechanical, cold, uncaring. Her gaze is empty. Her eyes tell me nothing.
"You're lying. Three months isn't enough to forget everything."
"If you even had the slightest idea what has happened to me in that time, you'd shut the fuck up and stop trying to find what isn't there anymore."
"Humour me then!" I yell, frustrated. "Make me understand why you left Lloyd and ran off with another man! Make me understand how you're here, in this castle. You're a fucking princess. How?"
She blinks. Twice. Then her lips curve up into a wicked smile. "I took your advice. Darrock had more to offer than a bleak life by the borders. So, I went for him instead. It was really that easy." She folds her arms. "For the latter part, you know, when a man and woman love each other--"
I'm launching for her before she finishes, gripping her arms. "Cut it out--"
She pries my fingers off. "Do. Not. Put. Your. Filthy. Hands. On. Me."
"Darrock's are filthier than mine, but you let him touch you."
She cackles. "You're still the fool I thought you were. Nothing has changed and I'm not in the least surprised. Remind me why you're here again, invading my space and touching a woman who is promised to another when you have a very pregnant Luna waiting back home for you. Whatever happened to your honour? Your reputation?"
She mocks me. It vexes me. Still...I unclench my fists and relax my jaw. "I came to apologize."
She takes one step forward. "Why?" Her eyelashes flutter against her high cheekbones. "For my approval of your request? My answer won't change."
I look down. "No. I just..." How does one say I'm sorry and I want to...try again? Or start over, maybe? I have no idea how, but I do know that it's much too late for any of that. On the off chance that she does accept my apology--though, I'm quite sure that she'd send me to my grave first--how do I take her back home with me? Shall I displace Moira and give her seat to Jessamine? I may be desperate, but I'm not an unfair king.
I gave Moira my word. I promised she would be my Luna if she didn't kill Jessamine in that fight. I've already lost so much. Who would I be if I lost my honour as well? It'd be best if I left Jessamine alone. I know this, but I cannot, for the life of me, just let her go.
There's a place inside of me that has already claimed her as mine, and it has latched on too tight. "I lied," I start. "Moira isn't with child. I haven't--couldn't consummate our union."
She falls silent, and her hesitation gives me the courage to say more. "You were my every waking thought. I couldn't...get out of my mind, and I tried. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. I missed you so much, it hurt beyond words. I've spent sleepless nights replaying my foolishness. You deserved more than the pain I caused you. I'm sorry for pushing you away, when all I ever wanted was you with me. Always. I still do, and I suspect I'll never stop wanting you. Needing you."
I watch her take it all in, and when she lifts her gaze to mine, I wait with baited breath for her response. "One question, Kier," she says.
I nod enthusiastically. "Anything. Ask me anything."
"If you hadn't found me here, if I had gone with Lloyd and accepted your orders to live alongside the humans, would you have come for me?"
I don't know how to answer that question. I don't know how to tell her I'd have found my way back to her, eventually. I'm not sure it's the right thing to say to her. I'm not sure if I even know the answer to that question. I find myself at a loss for words again, and she presses on with more questions. "And now? Will you take me back with you and give me Moira's crown? Will you defy the council and make me your queen?"
Words fail me. I can't lie to her. I won't. She pinches the bridge of her nose when I don't respond. There's neither surprise nor disappointment in my lack of response. She just nods. "Your inability to answer speaks louder than any words you could offer. I won't be part of your uncertain future or a mere option when it's convenient for you. Actually, I won't be a part of any future with you. I meant it when I said we were done and this is the last time we discuss this. You will never come to me again unless I call for you. You will not speak to me of your emotions. You shove them where they belong--in the trash. For as long as your stay in my home, you will refrain from following me around like a lost puppy. Your snide, unwanted remarks will be shoved in the trash as well. When you speak to me, it will be with respect and the acknowledgement that you are in need my help, not the other way around. Look around you. I have everything I could possibly need. You have nothing I want. You have nothing here to feel entitled to. Not me. Not my affections. If at any point you forget any of these things, our hospitality will come to an end and you'll have come all the way here for nothing. And if you have problems respecting boundaries, I'd strongly suggest you be gone by morning."