AllFreeNovel
Share Us
5
Theon
The moment Weylyn began climbing out of the bed we shared with Nica, I asked, “Where are you going?”
Wey stopped crawling over our tiger to lean close to me, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. He moved his mouth close to my ear so we wouldn’t wake the others and whispered, “You need to get some rest, my love.”
I sighed and scooted closer to him. “How am I to do that when you’re climbing out of our bed every night?”
The truth was, I wasn’t sleeping whether he was in bed or not. When one tends to start fires in the middle of their slumber, it was difficult to trust oneself enough to sleep. Especially when my champions and Florin wouldn’t let me sleep in bed alone. I’d tried multiple times because I was afraid of causing pain to one of them, but none of them would allow it. If I wasn’t in Nica and Wey’s bed, I was in Florin and Braz’s.
To be honest, they were right in that regard. If I was alone in bed, I wouldn’t be able to sleep, too used to having warm bodies pressed to me and limbs tangled together. I knew none of them would be able to sleep if I wasn’t in one of their beds, either. Their bodies, arms, and legs wrapped around me were too much of a comfort to give up easily, but I couldn’t get the thought of hurting one of them out of my head.
I’d almost set Nica afire a few weeks ago. I’d pushed Braz out of bed—a big feat with my large half-orc—with a burst of energy last week. I’d set Wey’s pillow on fire a few nights ago, and just last night, I’d singed Florin’s hair. Luckily, none of them were hurt, but they easily could’ve been. They didn’t blame me, but I blamed myself.
I needed to control this energy I felt sizzling in my veins, but I hadn’t a clue where to start. I’d never, ever believed something like this could happen to me, so I’d never paid much attention to mages and their magic, other than being amazed when my father would do a trick for me. No one here was able to help me, and no mage of any House would, either. I was an escaped slave who’d killed his master mage—technically, I hadn’t been the one to slit his throat, but that wouldn’t matter to them. They’d take revenge before offering their aid.
“Precious?”
Pushing away the thoughts of all the things I couldn’t control, I snapped my gaze to Wey’s. “Sorry.”
He offered a small smile and ran his hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head and decided a subject change was in order. “Where are you going?”
He licked his lips, my gaze following the motion and images of what that tongue could do flashed in my mind’s eye. Wey’s lips curled up into a smirk, and I snapped my gaze to his as he said, “Something else on your mind, my love?”
A smile tugged at my lips, and I trailed my fingers over his cheek. “We shouldn’t wake the others. We have training in the morning.”
We’d all taken up training every day, even me. I was so far behind in that aspect, but I didn’t want to get caught unawares again. There had been far too many close calls inside House Natas, and, well, I wanted to join in the fight. I wanted to take down the Houses and free all the slaves.
If I could learn to control my magic, I’d be a better help than I was now. But that wasn’t an option, so I wanted—needed—to learn to fight.
Wey hummed and leaned forward to pull me into a lingering kiss, his tongue brushing against mine, making me reconsider taking up what he was offering. But then he pulled away and rested our foreheads together, meeting my eyes. “It’s been a month since we escaped, and six weeks since the last time Natas drugged me.”
A shiver of fear ran down my spine at the thought of that monster. He may’ve been dead, but the memories of everything that’d happened in that House were still fresh. The nightmares featured his horrible face often.
The cruelty we’d faced as slaves still surprised me sometimes, even now that we were away from it. I remembered how terrified I’d been when Natas’s men had come into our cell to pour poison down Weylyn’s throat. Poison that wouldn’t allow him to shift into his third form—stone. It was only in that form that he could fully heal any injury.
That was how Natas had kept Weylyn with only one wing for so many years. And how, after Wey had taken my punishment and had his second wing cut off, he’d remained wingless all this time.
I shivered in horror at the memory of that serrated knife, of the blood, of the pained screams that fell from Weylyn’s mouth unbidden.
Wey rubbed my cheek, pulling me from that memory as he spoke. “I’ve been trying to find my stone form every night for the last week, but I fear it might be lost to me.”
“Oh, Wey,” I said before tucking myself into him and hugging him tight.
Another arm came around us from behind Wey, and Nica’s hoarse, sleepy voice mumbled, “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Your whispers woke me.”
“Sorry,” Wey and I said together, and a small chuckle came out of me.
“It’s alright.” Nica patted my arm, then held us tight as his purr filled the air. We fell quiet for a moment, and then Nica said, “Wey, let me help.”
“Nica—” Wey started, tense and angry, but Nica cut him off.
“Weylyn,please. I think I can help.”
“Nica… I don’t…” He sighed. “Give it a rest, tiger.”
