“Tyriel.”
Aryn had left his table again, moving to stand next to her. Her skin felt alternately hot and cold, goosebumps breaking out only disappear as shivers threatened. She didn’t dare look at Aryn, infusing her will into the song in hopes that nobody would take notice of either of them.
The cloaked man, however, wasn’t affected.
Aryn wasn’t swayed, either. He placed a hand on her neck, hard, firm, oddly possessive and warm. As his skin touched hers, the black, terrified feeling in her belly lightened and faded.
Something inside her whispered, Forget your pride, your heart. Stay with him.
If only…
Aryn lowered his head and whispered into her ear, “Stop playing, now, or I’ll carry your fine little ass out of here.” He squeezed her neck in warning.
He let go and she gave him a withering look.
But she drew her song to a close and finished with a flourish, then stooped to gather her money.
With a quick, expert eye, she figured the money would buy the basic supplies she needed and then some. And she could always do some busking along the way if the need arose.
Scooping it into her pouch, she stowed her flute, but before she could toss her second, larger pack over her shoulder, Aryn had taken it and moved through the small door to the side that led to the rooms upstairs.
Damn him. Knowing she had little choice now, she followed him out of the inn’s public room and up the stairs to the sleeping chambers.
“What?” she demanded coldly after following him into one of those rooms, several doors down from the one she’d secured for herself.
He didn’t speak.
Heart racing and stomach in knots, she folded her arms over her chest and glared. Her smaller travel pack still hung over her right shoulder, flute in the outer pocket but when he held out a hand for the pack, as he had a hundred times in the past, she refused, eyes narrowed in challenge.
She heard Irian…not his words…just a murmuring, in the back of her mind. With a snarl, she said, “Stay out of this, you bloody, blasted enchanter.”
Aryn lifted his eyes to her face, those dark, dreamy blue eyes that had totally captured her heart almost from the first.
Irian shimmered into view and stared at Tyriel as well, his intense, hungry gaze rapt on her face. “You cannot understand, Tyriel, love. You did not hear all—”
“I heard enough, thanks, so fuck that, Irian. And fuck you both.”
“Damn it.” Aryn turned away and paced to the window. “Tyriel, would you just…”
He trailed off, hands braced on either side of the window as he looked out into the night.
“Oh, that’s fascinating. So glad I followed you up here for this chat,” she said snidely. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to give me my pack, I’m going to my room.”
She moved forward, putting her elvish speed to use and grabbing the strap before he could even reach her.
But Aryn was rather fast himself, especially for a human and he caught her before she reached the door, his hands shockingly warm on her upper arms, burning her through the fine silk of her bright red blouse.
“You don’t understand, Tyriel.”
She tensed, hands closing into fists while humiliation and rage vied for control inside her.
“I don’t understand? Oh, I’m afraid I do. You don’t want me, Aryn. That’s simple enough. I’m no fool.”
She wrenched away, but he didn’t release her. When she tried a second time, he hauled her closer and twisted, jerking back to avoid the fist she swung at his head, then capturing both of her arms and pinning them at her sides by simply wrapping his arms around her entire body.
Tyriel went stock still, all but frozen by his action, because Aryn’s nearness made one thing painfully clear.
This…whatever it was…had nothing to do with Aryn not wanting her.
She sucked in a breath, face going hot…and her body even hotter.
Aryn turned her around and backed her up to the door, leaning fully into her.
“Tell me again how I don’t want you, Tyriel,” he whispered, his lips to her ear. He pushed his thigh between hers, the thin material of her skirts hardly any barrier at all. “Tell me again.”
She shivered, unable to speak.
“Wanting you is the problem. We both want, Tyriel.” He stared at her with an expression she’d never seen—at least not when it came to her. Eyes hotly focused, a faint flush to his skin, he rocked against her, slowly, positioning her so he could drag her sensitive, vulnerable mound against his hard, muscled thigh. “Maybe that blasted enchanter is fine with the idea.”
“Fuck that—he’s obsessed.” Aryn’s tone changed, hardened. He rocked against her harder and she tried to silence her needy cry, but couldn’t.
Aryn shuddered. Then, with a savage curse, he yanked himself away.
Tyriel had to slam her hands against the door to stay upright.
“But he’s a fucking fool. I’m a realist and when I see the two of us…?” He barely glanced at her before turning away. “I see what is. A human and a fae woman. I am not going to condemn myself to pining after a Wildling-elf who will be forever young and lovely while I’ll soon fade away. I am human, just a man. You are…you. You have the blood of divine beings in your veins.”
Tyriel’s heart cracked, the pain inside spilling out, thick and bitter.
Aryn looked at her over his shoulder and she met his eyes, for once seeing the lust he’d kept hidden. But that was all she saw. Heat. Desire.
Not need. Not love.
Aryn was wrong.
Irian wasn’t the fool here.
She was.
“You have never been just a man, Aryn of Olsted,” she said softly. Her voice was so level, she almost sounded unaffected. “You won’t believe that but that’s the truth of it.”
She grabbed the packs she’d unwittingly dropped and threw them over her shoulder.
“Take care of yourself, Aryn. Irian, watch over him.” She turned away, desperate for escape now, desperate to mount Kilidare and race the wind, race until maybe she left this pain far, far behind.
Staring at her back, angry and frustrated and hurt, he opened his mouth to say her name.
Irian took control.
“She cannot go…I am sorry for breaking my word.”
Aryn shoved against the enchanter’s hold, furious now and in a panic—he wasn’t letting her walk out that door.
She looked back then, jewel bright eyes, meeting his one last time, lips curved in a bittersweet smile.
“No,” he said. Or he tried.
Then…he…Aryn…simply ceased as Irian swarmed up and overwhelmed.
Tyriel glimpsed Aryn in those eyes, grim, determined. But then his eyes went blank and it was another man staring out at her.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he walked toward her. The body, the face, the hair and eyes, they might all look like Aryn’s, but this wasn’t Aryn she faced now.
“Irian. You said you wouldn’t do this to him anymore,” she said, bracing herself. “Does your word mean so little?”
“There was a time when my word, when my honor was everything. Yet, now, I’ve discovered how paltry such things can be when lives hang in the balance.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” She pressed her back to the wall, one hand sliding out to seek out the door latch.