Olethros

forty nine - freyja

I'd hardly gotten past my overwhelming need for Azriel before I heard footsteps. Dropping my hands from my face, I looked over my shoulder. I didn't understand the mix of disappointment and relief when I saw Tamlin. His face held a concern I didn't deserve. I rose to my feet, smoothing my gown.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine to return to supper," I murmured. His head shook slightly as he walked up to me. My pulse quickened even more, the rush of heat already building in me making my flight response heightened. I trusted Tamlin far more than the others, but I supposed any male would have me on edge.

"There's no need to feel ashamed," he said softly, lifting a hand to brush my hair back. I frowned, tilting my head back to meet his eyes more clearly.

"Of course there is. I'd been taught that I shouldn't feel like this, Tamlin. I thought I'd given up on everything my mother taught me but now I am here and I need to hold onto those lessons," I whispered. His fingers wrapped themselves in my hair as he held my cheek, thumb brushing over my cheekbone. It felt too intimate, too betraying.

Oh, I hated the tears threatening me. Why did I cry so often now? I wanted to lay my mask down and never remove it. I wanted to feel Azriel or nothing at all.

"Why should you not feel it when it is only natural?" He asked, and I swore I felt his breath on my lips. He did not heal nearly as quick as I or my brother, so those lingering bruises and fresh ones still littered his face. Golden hair fell over the blackened skin of his eye.

"Because the Cauldron was cruel in its creation of females," I croaked. His bottom lip slid between his teeth as he looked between my eyes. I felt his other hand hover over my waist, and then he let it close around me. My eyes fluttered, heart pounding just as hard. His touch felt wrong because it was not his. It was not the male that held my heart in his hands.

Tamlin lowered his face, lips brushing mine. My hands mindlessly went to his fine jacket, bunching the fabric in my fists. I wanted to shove him away, but was I just so desperate for any touch? Did it have to be Azriel? Could Tamlin tear down the walls of insecurity and fear just as he did?

A sharp inhale flooded my lungs as Tamlin pressed his lips to mine. I was motionless for a moment, dwelling on the realization that his lips did not fit mine like Azriel's did. They were fuller and I could taste his blood where Emyr had split his lip just hours before. But the way his hand held my face and waist, pulling my body closer, I sensed that he needed this. As his bride, was it not my duty to enlighten him?

My eyes stung as I began to move my mouth with his. Tamlin kissed me slowly, tongue exploring as I pulled him closer. He was not right, but at least he was someone.

His hair tickled my cheek. I brought one of my hands up to tuck it back, though I laid my palm to his skin like he did to me. Tamlin hissed against my teeth, jolting at my touch. I flinched, dropping my hand to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, smother by his mouth. He kissed me harder then, pulling me by my waist until my stomach was flush with his hips. His fingers tugged my head back by my hair, granting him more access to my mouth.

I liked the kiss- truly, I did- but it was not my love. It was fueled by a desperation created by a similar trauma. A need to forget what our lives were outside of this moment. He was chasing his pleasure by grinding his hips against my stomach, not mine like Azriel had done. Still, I obeyed his silent wish and kissed him.

"Frey-."

I gasped, jerking in Tamlin's arm at the sound of my brother. Tamlin turned us, his body still pressed to mine. Rhys stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed on where my hand lay on Tamlin's shoulder. I did not fear my brother seeing me like this, it was my duty nonetheless, but I was utterly horrified when Azriel and Cassian walked in behind him.