From the Ashes

Chapter 30 ~ Gifts from the Little Gods

Tarion flipped through a book vacantly. He read the words before him but his mind was otherwise occupied. He'd mostly recovered his senses. Enough to recognize that it had been hours since he left Morana down in the temple and she still hadn't emerged.

He was doing his best to keep his thoughts from running away with him, but he couldn't assuage the fear that she had lied and he had hurt her. Suppose she'd fainted from the blood loss or worse? He pinched the bridge of his nose, then massaged his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.

Stop it, he scolded himself. She's fine. But still the thoughts wouldn't leave him be. I should never have agreed to it. Tarion sighed and let an arm fall across the book while he rested his face in his other palm. Hadeon's Hel, the things he'd said to her...

There had been no mistaking the shift in her scent, but that didn't mean she was happy about it. He knew all too well about feeling things one didn't wish to. But what he felt with her...it hadn't been unwanted. At least, not in every regard. Only in the sense that he shouldn't have wanted it.

So what would he do now? This had crossed a line that never should've been crossed. He could try to step back to the other side of it, but what damage could that cause, and what damage would continuing forward do?

There would be no unknowing how she'd buried her fingers in his hair and drank in his scent. The way she felt trembling against him but how she'd still maintained control over both of them. How he'd wanted to drown himself in her scent and never draw a breath that didn't bear a hint of her.

He would never forget the sound of her dagger clanging to the floor even after he'd commanded her to drive it through his spine if he hurt her. She trusted him not to, even after he'd scented her fear. She'd abandoned her surest and quickest method of defense and chose simply to weather him, whatever it entailed.

There had been acceptance in her eyes. Acceptance, not disgust. And in spite of her fear, there had been trust. Tarion pushed the book aside and crossed his arms atop the table, then hid his face against them. Tears burned at his eyes once more and this time, he couldn't stop a few from falling.

She had trusted him, and he had not hurt her. He knew he hadn't, no matter what his mind tried to scream at him. She had been afraid, but she trusted him enough to let him feed from her. She had chosen to accept him as he was.

He'd known from the beginning that she would be his people's salvation, but he'd never imagined she could be his as well.

•༻☽☾༺•

Morana took her time sifting through the books she'd found in the temple, reading on a pew by the lights that still flickered. But like every other tome she'd perused, they didn't yield much. Finally, she thumped the last one shut with a frustrated huff.

"I thought you were meant to help us," she grumbled to the library. "So far you haven't given us anything useful." Morana braced her cheek against a fist and faced the statue of Drenusha atop the altar.

There was an oddly lifelike expression in the statue's eyes. They seemed to be looking right at her. Morana's cheeks flushed and she lowered her gaze. "If you're upset that we used your altar, I'm sorry. I'm sure you understand what we had to do though."

She'd absolutely refused to think about what had happened since Tarion had gone upstairs and she wasn't going to now. She couldn't even begin to wrap her head around it. Morana sighed, tracing a finger over the worn lettering on the cover of a book.

"I don't know how much longer we can stay here if we don't get results soon. Even with all the training Tarion could give me, I don't know if I'll be able to defeat Astaroth without some help. Every question we've asked has gone unanswered. Are there no answers to be found?"