His smile lacked its usual ease.
“I know.”
Dax closed the door behind him and stood alone in the corridor, attempting to remember why stopping had been the correct decision when every part of him wanted to go back inside.
Chapter 24
The corridor swallowed sound in long echoes, but Dax made no attempt to move quietly. His boots struck the stone with more force than necessary, carrying the residue of Veya’s heat upon his skin and the memory of their kiss like an accusation he could not escape.
He had left her inside the guest suite with water beside the bed, the curtains drawn, and the fire burning low. He had remained until her focus returned and the violent trembling in her limbs softened into exhaustion.
The kiss had not been imaginary.
That was the problem.
Dax had wanted it before the library, before Rhen’s blood destabilized her body, and before pain stripped away the caution she had used to keep him at a distance. He had wanted her in the garden when she laughed, in the guest room when she looked at him with reluctant trust, and every time she demanded a choice rather than accepting an order.
He had stopped because he could not tell how much of that moment belonged to Veya and how much had been sharpened by what Rhen had done to her.
Rhen, meanwhile, had walked away.
The stairs leading to the training level seemed endless. The air cooled as Dax descended, and damp gathered faintly along the old stone. The stronghold kept its violence underground among weapons, discipline, sweat, and reinforced walls, as though hiding brutality beneath the living quarters somehow made it cleaner.
It did not.
The scents of old leather, metal, disinfectant, and exertion reached him before the training-room doors. A heavy rhythmfollowed, with fists striking a suspended bag hard enough to make the chains groan.
Dax pushed through the doors without knocking.
The cavernous room spread beneath reinforced concrete and iron beams. Heavy chains hung in loops from the ceiling, while industrial lamps cast a hard white glare across the equipment and bleached every surface into sharp angles.
Rhen stood shirtless before one of the heavy bags.
Sweat moved across the muscles of his back as he drove one gloved fist after another into the leather. Blood had already seeped through the worn gloves and marked the bag with every impact.
Dax crossed the floor.
“You left her knowing the tether could do that.”
Rhen did not turn or interrupt the rhythm of his strikes.
“She was stable when I left.”
“She was burning alive in the library.”
“And yet she survived.”
The lack of concern in his voice struck harder than anger would have.
Dax stopped several feet behind him.
“She kissed me while her body was still destabilized, and I wanted her enough that I nearly allowed the crisis to make the choice for both of us.”
Rhen’s next blow landed with enough force to throw the bag sideways.
“That sounds like your failure.”
Dax’s hands tightened.
