Page 71 of Ashborne: Defiance

It was a stupid question. I knew precisely what was wrong. I wanted what Koa had with Kham. And I wanted it with Voski. I loved his dark good looks. His subversive humor. His skill. It seemed nothing could come against me that he wouldn’t simply defeat.

But Voski didn’t want me. And while that wasn’t shocking, it hurt.

Why did men never want me? I wasn’t ugly. I wasn’t petty. I tried not to be demanding. I was willing to listen to their stories and commend their strength.

What was it about me that they preferred solitude, to my company?

His words about my words, swam back to mind. You speak far too much, far too often.

And even though I told myself we didn’t know each other, that I had no claim on him, it made my stomach sink every time he turned from me.

I would gladly have spent every waking hour speaking with him. Listening. Hearing his stories, learning from him. I would have sat through dinner parties, or cleaning stables—anything. It hollowed me out that he couldn’t even stand to fly with me.

Because my body responded to every touch. Yet he, apparently, recoiled. I’d felt his arousal during Koa’s heat—and twice while we flew. But, when it happened he made Kham land, and fled away from me as quickly as he could, his face painted in disgust.

My cheeks blazed with shame.

The few moments he seemed to forget whatever made him so angry, even a flicker of his smile made my heart beat faster.

When he forgot to hate me, and focused on teaching me, preparing me, I deeply admired his skill and knowledge—and willingness to share it. It was clear he was a gifted teacher and leader. I had no doubt that other men listened to him—he carried himself in that quiet, certain way some men had, that made other men walk smaller near them.

I recognized that. I liked it.

If he hadn’t been so angry, I couldn’t think of any hands I would have felt safer within. His body a wall behind which to defend myself. Because if I’d learned anything in my almost twenty-four years, it was how to evaluate people. And I knew that even in a room full of nobles, Voski wouldn’t waver. And, whether he knew it or not, even the powerful among them would notice him.

I knew, because I did.

There was something darkly dangerous—and yet, keenly intelligent—about him. A presence that couldn’t be ignored. Not even by other men.

And then it occurred to me. “Do you prefer men?”

The words popped out of my mouth before I could shovel them back. I clapped a hand over my mouth, but I was too late. He’d heard me.

I felt his body tense. “What?!”

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean—”

“What are you asking me?” he sounded shocked.

I dropped my head, wishing I had fallen off after all. At least then I would have kept my mouth closed. “I meant nothing by it—”

“I think you meant a great deal.”

“I wasn’t… that is, there was a man among our servants. He was always very kind to me. But he could be cold. I learned… I’m only—”

“No, Grace,” he growled. “I do not prefer men.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t offend me, you shocked me. What is a young woman of your station doing, even knowing such things?”

I bristled. “I am twenty-three years old. I am not a naïve child.”

He huffed. “You certainly aren’t if you’re asking questions like that. Dear God. Trust me, you need to keep those questions to yourself when we reach the Keep. There are Furyknights who prefer men. But that is none of your business. As a woman, especially a noble, it’s not appropriate to ask.”

I frowned. “I don’t make a habit of asking men such things! It was only—” then I snapped my teeth closed before I regretted more words.

But Voski chuckled. “Oh no, you don’t get to stop talking now. You tell me what thoughts were churning in that pretty mind of yours for that to be what came out.”