*Ella*
I hadn’t planned on beating up three witches today. It wasn’t on my schedule at all. Putting Petra into a headlock and dragging her to the cold crystal floor hadn’t been on the itinerary, nor had swinging her friend into the wall by the woman’s auburn hair, or using her other friend's cloak as a weapon I then strangled the third witch with.
I didn’t kill any of them, but I wanted to. I’d scratched and bit and punched with all of my physical might until all three women were panting, gagging, and choking for both breath and mercy. Then, I’d simply stepped over them and walked out of the castle and into the rain.
Petra hadn’t had any idea what she’d been getting into when she cornered me and raked her iron-tipped fingernails over my cheek. She has no idea I’d been trained as a warrior since the day I turned five years old, that I’d let grown men with decades of experience throw me around the sparring ring in the castle until my skin was bruised and covered in welts. She has no idea that I’d grown up tough as nails. She has no idea who Cassian is, or who Isaac is, or who the commanders and warriors who work for my father are.
And as I drove my fist into her jaw, knocking her out cold, I silently said all of their names in thanks.
I’d let my guilt and remorse for being the reason this war had happened over the summer surge forward, letting those emotions guide my fists, my teeth, and eventually, my claws. I didn’t even feel one of the witch's fists meet my mouth. I didn’t feel the way my teeth pierced the inside of my lower lip.
I felt nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but the bliss of an empty, calm mind.
And like Ryatt said, I’d blocked him out. I’d curled the silver threat that snaked its way through my mind, tying me to him, around my fingers and yanked it out with each blow to the witches who’d assaulted me. I refused to let him feel my pain. I refused to let him see into my head and the tidal wave of crushing, twisting thoughts I’d spent years–twenty-one years, to be exact–trying to hide.
But I let him see them now. I let him back into my head, into my heart, and let our bond reignite under the pale, early morning moonlight drifting through the window. He kneels on the edge of the bed, totally still, unblinking, as my memories wash over him. Memories of me putting every ounce of my energy into physical training from a very young age to keep my powers tamped down and controlled. Memories of me painting in my studio while my parents whispered from the doorway about how this must be my power because I hadn’t shown any hints of power yet as I came into adolescence.
Memories of me on Maatua, dunking my head under the waterfall and listening to the whispered voices only I could hear.
Memories upon memories, years upon years.
Ryatt leans forward as the first memory of me finding out my tears hold power comes rushing forward. I let it travel through my head, every detail forged in total clarity. My tears bring my paintings to life, opening doorways all over my realm. I could move between Maatua and Crescent Falls by stepping through a painting in a matter of seconds.
But I could never get to him.
A tear slides down my cheek as a memory of me placing both hands on a blacked-out canvas breaks through the other images. I’m screaming, my palms flat on the painting. Let me in, let me in, let me in!
In this moment, Ryatt sees everything. He sees my nightmares. He sees my lies. He sees how I’ve hurt and manipulated the people I love to keep my powers a secret. He sees my pain, regret, and most of all, my longing for him.
I bared myself to him when he laid me in bed and pulled off what remained of my dress. I spread my legs and offered him my body, knowing it’s what we both want but for the wrong reasons.
Now, I bare my soul to him. I let him see me for who and what I am, so he can decide if I’m worth fighting for after all.
My cheeks are wet from my silent tears when Ryatt chokes out a breath, one of his hands closing around my ankle.
I snap my legs together and try to draw my knees into my belly, suddenly full of regret.
“Ella–”
“Just leave.” I turn my face from him, hiding it in the pillow.
The bed squeaks as he crawls onto the mattress, and suddenly the moonlight is obstructed, and I’m cast in his shadow as he hovers over me. I try to shove him off, but he pins my wrists above my head and kisses me.
It’s not the kind of kiss I’m expecting. It’s not rushed or desperate. There’s nothing hurried about it. It’s not the kind of kiss I deserve.
When I try to pull away again and turn from him, he only deepens the kiss, letting go of my wrists to hold my face between his hands as his tongue glides over my lower lip, begging me to open up to him.
“Ryatt,” I say against his lips, the word choked with emotion. “I don’t–we don’t–”
He pulls away enough to wipe away my tears with his thumbs and says, “I see you, Ella. I’ve always seen you.”
My heart is in my throat when he kisses me again, deeper this time. Deep enough to send a sensation of pure heat drifting over my belly and settling between my legs. I cry out against his lips when his hips grind over mine, his desire for me making itself known.
“This is just the mate bond,” I say quietly.
He halts mid-kiss, and pulls away. “What if it’s not?”
I sit up, and he leans back so we’re sitting face to face.
I really look at him as if for the first time. His eyes are like liquid silver in the moonlight, fanned by thick, dark lashes. His dark hair is free and falling in loose curls around his shoulders as he reaches to take me by the chin. “What if it’s not just the bond, Ella?” he repeats, his eyes locked on mine.
“You don’t like me. You told me once you wished it had been anyone but me, and I get it. You saw who I am–”
“I saw someone like me, Princess,” he rasps, his tone heavy and full of regret.
I fight to swallow past the lump in my throat. This is too much. The weight of our situation is far too heavy for me to carry.
Maybe he notices the grief and desperation in my eyes because the corners of his lips tug into a smirk dripping with pride. “You really did a number on those witches tonight.”
“Are you going to be in trouble for that?”
“Me?” he laughs. He straightens, still straddling me. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who beat three of the Witch Queens best witches to a pulp without even touching your powers.”
I frown at him, but his boyish, teasing words lighten the mood significantly.
“I would have paid good money to have seen it in person,” he says in a low growl, his teeth bared.
“Next time,” I say, but my words cause a shift in his expression. Ryatt’s eyes shimmer, then fade to dark, stormy gray.
“I didn’t want this life for you. Being hunted just for being by my side. I tried, Ella, to prevent this from happening. I sided with my father to invade your kingdom knowing I’d have the opportunity to face your brother in battle. I planned to die on that field by his hand. You’re useless to my father without me.”
“I don’t understand why that is.”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t let him have you.”
Ryatt is holding something back, a truth he doesn’t want me to know. Maybe I’m better off not knowing or understanding the grisly details of why I’m here, why he’s my mate, and whatever destiny we’re meant to follow.
Until a cold breeze drifts over my skin, I forgot I’m lying here practically naked in front of him. My nipples peak from the chill, and I suck in a breath to bite back the shiver rippling over my skin.
Ryatt, who has been nothing but a gentleman, has not looked down at my naked body until now. He leans forward, his hands curled into fists on the mattress, and groans.
His eyes are closed. “You should go to bed. It’s been a long night.” He starts to pull away, but I stop him, grabbing his arm.
“Stay.”
His eyes meet mine.
“Stay with me, please.”
“I don’t trust myself to be in the same room, let alone the same bed, with you right now.” His words are strained.
“I want this,” I admit. “You asked me if… you asked what if this isn’t just the mate bond? I–I think it’s more than that, Ryatt. I want you, and that goes beyond our bond. I’ve always wanted–”
His mouth crushes mine, and I’m thrown back against the pillows, defenseless against his weight and strength. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, digging my fingernails into his skin.
Our teeth clash, our tongues lost in a desperate, frantic dance as he explores my mouth, then pulls away to press kisses to my jaw and neck. His teeth graze my skin, and I cry out, arching into his touch, needing more. So, so much more.
I know our bond is the reason we can’t stop now. The tension between us has been coiling tight since the moment he found me in that cellar. My entire body screams for his touch, and I’m in no place to stop it.
No force has ever been so strong as what has been destined between us. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. I’ve never wanted anything more.
His hands caress my breasts, and he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. “Ryatt!” I pant, finding it hard to catch my breath as his teeth gently nip at that sensitive bud. Heat washes over my body and settles between my thighs as his touch travels further down, his lips brushing over my belly as his hands grip my hips.
I feel him slide my panties down over my thighs, and then I’m totally and wholly at his mercy.
His lips brush just below my navel. I close my eyes, letting myself drift, but then the cold night air touches my skin again as he gets off the bed.
I open my eyes to find him standing at the foot of the bed looking down at me. The look in his eyes is absolutely feral with desire as he grips my ankles and yanks me toward the edge of the bed.
I rise up on my elbows, my hair ruffled and falling over my shoulders and breasts. “Ryatt–”
Ryatt Kane, the Alpha King of the Rogues, gets on his knees before me.
His hands rest on my thighs as he says, “I’ve been dying to know how you taste.”