Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)

My head jerks back defensively. “I am not. I only had a few”—a hiccup interrupts—“drinks.”

His lips twitch into a faint smile, and he shakes his head. He releases his hold. “Come on.” Taking my hand, he attempts to lead me toward the bed. I’m consumed with nervous energy, wondering what it will finally feel like to kiss Xarion—until he says, “Sleep it off. We’ll talk come morning.”

I yank my hand free. “No, Xarion. You’ll listen to me now.”

“Star, get in this bed.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I pout. Suddenly I’m as spoiled as his cousins, and even though I know somewhere in my head my actions are wrong, I don’t care. “I have to tell you something important. Why do you always treat me like this?”

His head whips around. “You’d think a few drinks would loosen you up.” He dips low, anchoring his arms around my shoulder and legs. I yelp as he scoops me into his arms. “In a good way, that is.”

Though I hoped he would do just this action, I regret that the first time he’s laying me back on his bed is because he thinks I’m drunk. Only a command to sleep would be more embarrassing.

When my head hits the soft pillow, the many threads caressing my cheek, I realize how drained I feel. “Fine,” I mumble as he pulls the sheet over me. I kick it off. “In the morning.”

Xarion walks to the other side of his bed and reaches for his pillow. I latch on to his hand. “Sleep with me,” I say.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he peers down at me. A fla

sh of something—pain, longing?—crosses his face. “I shouldn’t.”

“We used to all the time when we were kids.” My tone is pouting again, but I don’t care.

He laughs. “Yes,” he says, slipping a knee onto the bed. My body sinks with the dip of the mattress. “But back then”—he hovers above me, his hands on either side of my head—“I didn’t want to ravish every inch of your body.”

My breath stops. A shiver trails my skin at the image of his lips, his hands, touching every inch of me. His robe hangs open, the embroidered hem just grazing my arm. I reach up and grab it, applying a subtle tug. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and his chest moves up and down with his quick breaths.

“Now,” he says, breaking the intense spell. “I’m going to my couch, where I’ll no doubt lie awake all night, battling the urge to come back to this bed.”

I swallow. “Just lie here—for a little while.”

I see the moment defeat claims him. His features relax, his furrowed brow smooths. With deft movements, he lies on his side, one arm draped over me, one leg slipped between my parted ones. The feel of his warm body pressed against me causes all reason to leave my head.

I hesitantly lift my hand toward his face and pause, but then find the courage to run my fingers over the scar slashing his eyebrow. His eyes close, his arm tightening around me, as I comb his soft waves away from his forehead.

He sighs. “Why couldn’t you have come to me in your right mind?”

My head feels heavy and fuzzy, sleep on the brink of taking me. I yawn. “There’s so much you don’t understand.” I close my eyes, my hand resting against his head.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“Candra and the Leymak are never going to stop coming for you,” I say. “I can’t—”

“What?”

I yawn again. “I can’t give up my power. I have to protect you.”

I feel his head shake. “We’ll leave forever.”

“Not if something horrible happens to the queen and the Kythan discover your death will break their binds. You’ll be hunted.” Through the haze of sleep, I worry over whether or not I’m smart and strong enough to protect him.

He jerks up, and the sudden move jolts my eyes open. “Where did you hear that?”

“Candra,” I say.

His eyes are hard on me, his mouth turned down. “When?”

“The night of the attack.” My eyes flutter closed. It’s becoming hard to keep them open.