Chapter 117: Heartbeat (2)
At the sound of her name crossing his lips, Talia felt goosebumps rise down her back. She drew a shaky breath, and tried to look anywhere but into his eyes. He was staring so intensely at her, that she feared he would see how close she was to weeping in relief.
Yet it was a strange mix of emotions which threatened to overwhelm her. She had wanted his love, yes, but the way he spoke, it was as if he both accepted and rejected her at the same time.
"Why do you speak.... as though you fear me giving my heart to you?" She whispered.
Prince Mikhail sighed, and rubbed his face with one hand, as though thinking about it exhausted him.
"Because... I've seen how you love. Without a thought for your own well-being. You love the people of Vezda. Even though you were a child, you ran through an invading army with nothing but a rusty, broken pike to save them. You signed a treaty to give up your life so that they would have food-- in fact your entire life, up to that point, had been lived in service to them. You loved your sister, so when you believed Unaria held her against her own will, you attacked with an exhausted army and no supplies-- and kept fighting, somehow, for two years! In fact, when King Oleg fell, I was so fearful that you would come yourself to collect the body, that I ordered my men to search the fields and deliver it to you under fire. It is terrifying... how you love," he admitted.
Talia almost took offense, but saw the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I think... you love much the same way," she smiled gently. "But... with some differences. You take no joy from love... no comfort... nothing at all for yourself. Why? Tell me the truth."
Prince Mikhail rocked back on his heels, looking away from her at last.
"Because... I..." his words trailed off as he turned his head sharply to the side-- almost as if he'd heard something.
Talia glanced behind him, and quickly scanned the room, also listening, but all she heard was the hiss and crackle of the fire.
"What is it?" She whispered.
Mikhail shook his head.
"Nothing... it is nothing," he murmured.
Unconvinced, Talia scanned the empty room again, wondering what he had heard.
"You should sleep " he ordered, standing up abruptly.
How could he expect her to sleep after hearing such a confession?!
"You should sleep! You're the one who was injured and was practically on their death bed this morning!" Talia scoffed.
"I have laid about for far too long as it is, and there is much I mean to accomplish tonight," he excused himself, standing up.
"You mean... to walk out and leave me... after what you've just said?" Talia murmured, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Only moments before, she had been certain that he meant to take her in his arms and... had she said something wrong? He hadn't even answered her question, and now-
The Prince turned away from her and strode toward the fireplace. Snatching a discarded shirt from the floor, he shook it out and made to pull it over his head.
He really did intend to leave... in the middle of their conversation!
Talia bounced to her feet and stalked across the room, stopping just behind him.
"It's because of your mother... isn't it?" She guessed. "Because she was the last person who loved you, and you were forced to kill her. That's why you behave this way-- blowing hot and cold as you do."
He pulled the tunic over his head and adjusted the sleeves, a slight scowl on his face as he did.
"I have answered your question already, before you asked it- I answered it," he growled.
"That you're not worthy of my heart because of your actions during a time of war-"
"And other times as well," he interrupted. "I look into your eyes and I do not know the man reflected in them. It is not me. It is not who I truly am. When I say: give your heart to someone who deserves it- those are not words said without reason."
Talia crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.
"You are so certain of that," she scoffed. "But the man I know saved the life of a child who was his enemy. The same child whose actions caused him to lose the battle of Gelt."
"I strongly considered breaking your tiny fingers in the woods that night-- to run you off. I almost did," he muttered darkly.
"Since then, you have risked your own life to protect mine- over and over," she insisted, "and I have seen-"
"To protect your life, I have happily traded your sister's life, exposed my allies for treason, killed innocents, and betrayed my country and its people. I would do more still. Is that how a good man loves? Is that how you love?" He laughed harshly.
Talia winced at his words. She could see in his eyes that he did not miss her reaction. He smirked and shook his head slightly before turning away, and heading for the door.
"Perhaps it is true that I do not know the real you," she called at his retreating back. "But I find it odd, that every time I feel myself closer, you pull away. You say that I should not love you, but I think... I think... you fear that outcome just as much as being given my heart."
Her words froze him. He stopped midway between the door and the fireplace, his shoulders tense. When he spoke, he did not turn to face her.
"I had a dream once. It was long ago when I first came to speak with Queen Ora. I dreamed we were alone in the Great Hall of the House of Eosin... and you offered me your hand... and I took it... that small, fair hand of yours... I took it and bent to kiss it, and I saw... I saw that your fingers had blackened where I touched them. I dropped your hand but the rot spread across your wrist and straight up your arm, and when you looked up at me... your face... your eyes..."
His words stopped abruptly and she saw his shoulders rise and fall as he drew a deep breath. She thought he would finish what he meant to say, but a heavy silence had fallen between them.
Slowly and quietly, she crossed the floor to stand behind him. Gently, she laid her hand on his back. He started at her touch, as if he had not known she was there.
"You are not wrong," he murmured. "In this, I must confess myself a coward. I cannot force myself to turn away from you, but I dare not reach for your hand."
Talia reached for his hand and tugged it gently, asking without words for him to turn and face her. He did so grudgingly. She almost giggled at the familiar expression he wore-- his lips pressed tightly together, the slight scowl across his brow, the way he kept his eyes downcast, refusing to look at her...
"Then don't reach for me," she said lightly. "Stay just as you are, and I will reach for you."
Talia stood on her toes and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Prince Mikhail stood motionless as a statue, even as she pressed herself against him. He scarcely seemed to breathe. However, even poised on the tips of her toes, she could not quite reach his lips.
"I was slightly mistaken, I suppose," she whispered. "You will have to bend down just a bit."
The moment he bent his head, bringing his face close to hers, she closed her eyes and kissed his lips fiercely, tightening her hold as if she would bring him closer still.
His lips were cold against hers- firmly shut and nonresponsive, and she wondered if he would return her kiss at all. She whined slightly with frustration, letting go of his neck long enough to snatch his hand and wrap it around her waist, as she gently bit his lower lip.
She felt his fingers tighten on her hips in response, and a tremor seemed to pass through him. His kiss was rough when it came, forcing her lips open to accept his tongue. Talia moaned in relief, writhing slightly against him as if she similarly relive the growning ache in her body.
She reached down and tugged at his shirt. Knowing almost instinctively what she wanted, Mikhail broke away long enough to rip his shirt over his head. He bent to take her lips again, but she stopped him by placing one hand on his chest.
Despite the scarring, despite the burns, and the dark, scrolling marks of his curse, his body was beautiful to her. She had thought so even as a child. The size of him- the expansive of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders and the way every inch of his musculature seemed as though it had been carved and smoothed by a sculptor's chisel- it should have intimidated her, frightened her even. His body was a testament to a strength that far surpassed her own- yet somehow it both comforted her and ignited in her a sense of longing.
Slowly, almost with reference, she reached out to lightly trace the line that ran down his abdomen, and then leaned forward and traced the same line with the tip of her tongue.
He gasped as if her tongue burned, and then drew several ragged breaths as if he were in pain. She could see the bulge below his belt now, straining against the fabric of his trousers, and drawing a quick breath to steel her nerves, she reached down and ran her hand across the length of it.
He stiffled a cry, as she grasped him through the fabric.
"Don't leave," she whispered, finally bold enough to look up and meet his gaze. His eyes were hazy, his lips slightly parted as he panted from her touch.
Still, his expression held something more than desire... there was a look of defeat about him, that almost made her feel sorry. He nodded his head in agreement.
— New chapter is coming soon — Write a review
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone