Warning: self-harm is depicted in this chapter

We make it through the jungle and realize we're crossing a Cloud of Rehyr too late. It's raining, but within a minute it's dry and a tornado forms from thin air. The winds are so rough that we know we won't make it through without being blown away. The only fortunate part of the situation is that we're at the edge of the forest where there is less foliage.

While Dramon and his men fend for longer, I'm struggling to walk through the rough winds because I'm a hundred pounds lighter and only have one good leg.

Seeing my struggle, Dramon touches my shoulder and pulls me down so I'm flat on my back. I widen my eyes, remembering the last thing that happened when I was under him. Instead of shifting my underwear aside and plugging me so full that I forget a damn tornado is roaring nearby, he lowers himself to flatten his chest against mine. I grip handfuls of his jerkin shirt to anchor him— more to keep him from flying away than to keep myself pinned.

Wind roars in my ears and dirt scrapes my face. I cough once, and then I feel pressure on my head when Dramon presses his palms to protect my ears. Then, he lowers his forehead and breathes against me. Our lips are touching, but there's no passion in this kiss. He's telling me that he's here, looking over me, surviving with me.

For some reason, this man, who has hurt and confused me a dozen times, makes my chest feel things it has no business feelings. I'm serene. There is no calm after the storm, because the calm is now.

When everything settles, Dramon's bandages are brown with dirt. I'm relieved to see that the rest of the men are unscathed, but that quickly turns to panic when I don't find my cane anywhere. I look all over the dirt, eventually falling to my good knee and digging through the dirt like a rodent. I forget everyone around me. The serenity I felt? It's now buried along with my cane.

"It's gone," Dramon says behind me.

I don't listen to him.

Dramon snatches my bicep. "It is alright."

"No, it's not alright!" I snap in my panic. "I am nothing without it."

I disappear into Dramon's embrace when he pulls me to him.

"You do not need it. I would carry you to the Underworld and back."

I breathe against his sweaty, dusty chest and whisper, "I don't want to look weak."

"You don't need a cane to prove your strength." He swings an arm under me and lifts me so I'm straddling Treysa. With his hand covering my bad knee, he leads us out of the wilderness and to his Clan over the next two days.

I look no different. My hair is still free, my skin still dark, and my pants ripped in one too many places, but the Clan looks at me like they're star stuck.

Dramon comes around to grab my waist and pull me down. He swings me into his arms and carries me to the empty tent at the edge. He sets me down and quickly digs through chests to pull out furs for the bedroll.

"Here." He guides me down. "I will get you a bath, and food, and clothing, and—"

"Dramon," I interject. I pull him to sit beside me and toss a thigh over to straddle him.

His eyes are panicked— a rarity for a Rider King, and it's all because of me. He's afraid that he'll lose me again now that I'm back in the Clan. Last time I was here, it was their gossip and his negligence that drove me apart. I can't pin it all on Dramon, because he has been glued to my side to make things better.

"No one looked at me sideways, and we will discuss what happens if they do."

His eyes flicker with hesitation.

"You are doing good," I tell him.

"I drove you away."

"But you are doing well now," I repeat. "Say that."

He shakes his head. "I am not a child, Venus." He looks away, and I give up. After pushing me off his lap, he rummages through his things and returns with a soft bundle of cloth and a cane. "Here, I had these made for you."

"Old man's spine?" I gasp and touch the wood. It's a rare kind that only men of Dramon's status have access to, native to plants rumored to grow over the ocean. There are no designs on the cane, but the bright-red color of the cane is beautiful in of itself.

"This is wonderful. Thank you."

"It's just a stick," he grumbles.

"After I lost the one Rexo-" I stop myself and look at him with alarm.

He's not happy.

Placing the cloth on my lap, he turns. "I will be back later."

I look down at my lap once I'm alone and unwrap the cloth. This is silk— what the noble ladies wear. I don't have the luxury of feeling this on my skin. Not because it's expensive, but because I'm often riding into battle and rough terrain where silk would be useless.

I lift the dress. It's long, like it goes well past my ankles and drapes behind me. Dramon must have asked the rider he sent ahead to prepare these. It's thoughtful of him.

I set the dress aside and pick up my cane. I poke my head outside and ask the first man that passes by to pull a tub in for me.

He nods enough times that I fear his head will fall off his shoulders. The tub appears thirty seconds later, and I'm both impressed and guilty.

After setting the soap aside, I look for Dramon. I need him to clear his wounds and change those bandages before I can bathe.

After asking a few alarmed Clan members, I'm directed downhill. I notice Dramon's wide back first. He's sitting on a log with his elbows on his knees. He must be distracted, because he doesn't hear me when I go downhill.

When I go around him and see what he's doing, I lunge and pull the knife from his hands.

"What are you doing?" he frowns at me.

"You're hurting yourself!"

No wonder his wounds are taking so long to heal. He keeps reopening them!

"This is part of my Clan's culture, Venus. A male must make sacrifices."

There's many things I still don't understand about Clans, but this is one of the most horrifying ones.

"But you're cutting yourself open."

"It does not hurt me. You worry too much."

"Yeah? Well, I want to cut myself too, then." I raise the blade, and he smacks it out of my hand.

"No! Not you."

I roll my eyes. "I don't care if this is part of your culture. You will not cut yourself again."

He looks at me blankly.

"Is this about me mentioning Rexon?"

That has him moving. He jumps to his feet, snatches me off the ground, and has us in the tent in what feels like ten steps. His strong hand pulls at my clothes, and he has me naked before I can protest.

Instead of studying what he unwrapped, he pulls me into the tub with me on his lap.

"The soap will burn your cut," I warn.

"Stop talking, Venus." With his hands lathered, he rubs my belly. The water ends right above my nipples, and he doesn't hesitate to rub those, too.

His touch is methodical. There's no enjoying or appraisin, but my body doesn't understand that. My nipples become harder than his nails.

I fiddle my fingers and say, "when I lost my cane, I wasn't upset because I lost something Rexon gave to me. I just didn't want to be limping around. Rexon is a friend. I mean, we didn't get to— oh!"

He flips me around so fast that water sloshes out of the tub. My chest is now flat against his, and bloody and dirty water surrounds us.

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking?"

He rubs between my cheeks, and a shriek rips out of me when he plunges a finger in my rear hole and pumps a dozen furious times.

"What are you doing!" I reach behind me to stop him.

"Cleaning you."

I can tell this is more, though. A claim. A lesson. I don't know. Men like Dramon are hard to read.

He pulls his finger out of me and does a final rub of my cheeks before standing with me. He's still clothed, so his pants are dripping. The extra weight doesn't seem to slow him down.

He sets me on the bed and leaves to change the water. I'm standing stiffly with a curiously tight butt and a jealous, clenching pussy.

—

The next morning, I rise alone. Dramon probably stayed up all night to deal with the Clan's business and make further preparations for his absence.

I try on the dress he gave me. It's not worthy of me. It's tight everywhere, maybe a bit too tight. My breasts are a sneeze away from flashing the planet, and the material trails behind me as if I'm the ultimate Queen. The silky black color makes me feel dangerous, and the high cut that ends mid-thigh on my bad leg makes me wonder if Dramon asked for that specific detail. He doesn't want me to hide my leg from anyone.

I'm smoothing the dress out when the tent flap opens and Dramon appears. He takes me in.

"Change of plans. We are not going. At least with you wearing that."