“You’re damn right you haven’t and you’re not going to either.”
His blue gaze shifts back to his book, and I don’t miss his lips hitching into a half-smile. He says he likes all my uncontrollable, positively feral posturing. That can’t be. It’s got to be an effect of the bond.
Tapping my index finger on the frail old page, I surmise what he means by deepening. “You feel more intensely than you did yesterday?”
He swallows and nods at the same time. “I’m sorry, Warlord.”
I run a worried hand through my hair. Did the bond do this? It’s just as well I suppose.
He leans sideways so that he’s closer to my ear. Right. Quiet. We’re not supposed to be talking in the library. I’d be getting the scolding of a lifetime from Mishka, the old ornery librarian in Markaytia, if he were here, but I’m the Warlord and can supposedly do almost anything I wish. I don’t want to be rude though. I’d better lower my voice.
“It’s not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I did this to us.” Gods. I ache and ache. It’s uncomfortable. My knee against his knee isn’t enough. Inhaling him drives the incessant burn that I know will subside if I touch his skin. No. I have to resist. This will normalize if I resist.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m glad, Warlord. It’s an honor to serve you.”
That’s got to be the bond speaking too. He doesn’t know me. How can a person be honored to serve someone they don’t know? What if I’m evil? He doesn’t know that I’m not evil.
“Hmmm. Your feelings have shifted. I can’t tell if you’re anxious or concerned,” he says.
“How can you … you can feel all that?”
“And more. Part of the deepening I suspect. Can you tell what I’m feeling?”
The very idea of disappointing him is going to give me the first Elven—Elf-dragon?—heart attack. “Not yet.”
“Don’t worry, Warlord. You will.”
He’s got way too much faith in me.
“How did you know I was … Gods, dammit.” If he can feel me, I at least want to be able to feel him. Icanfeel the presence of another dragon approaching. Don’t they know the Warlord has booked this section of the library?
It doesn’t appear that they do. It’s a young man and while he appears to be River’s age that doesn’t mean much since River is thirteen hundred years old. I make a swirling motion with my finger. “Turn around and move along. Please,” I add to show that I’m civil and not a barbarian with dragon teeth.
River covers his mouth with a hand.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Warlord,” he says with smiling eyes.
When I slam my book closed, he jumps. Everything has me on edge. Everything worsens my bad mood. I zone in on my bite on his neck, wishing I could remember doing it to him. Wishing to remember anything about our bonding. At the very least, I should get that. Having done something so big that I don’t remember it, is terrifying.
“Sorry, Warlord. That was inappropriate.” His hands clench. “May I head down for punishment if you don’t wish to do it yourself?”
Fuck.
“First of all, if anyone is going to punish you, it’s going to be me. Second, no punishment, River. I’m on edge and I will take responsibility for my poor behavior. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to—”
“Please?”
If he can feel me, then hopefully he’s sensing the urgency in my plea. It’s not just because I lost my temper. I need to hear that he forgives me for everything. I know it’s not something I can ever be forgiven for or that I’ll ever deserve. It looks like I’ll be spending however long I have left trying to earn his forgiveness.
Utter devotion shines through him. “I forgive you, Warlord. A thousand times over.”
All my veins are on fire, and I know how to suffocate the flames. Taking his hand, I press it against my cheek.Gods, yeah. That’s the stuff. Closing my eyes, I let my insides cool and bask in the magic of his simple touch. My ribcage stutters and then I breathe in rhythm again. Wasn’t I before? What’s happening to me?
Fuck. I’m so screwed, aren’t I?
