#iihasts14

[highqueenofelfhame]

if i had a soul to steal/4.21/fourteen.

WARNING: IIHASTS Contains descriptions of graphic violence and explicit sexual content. Some parts may not be suitable for readers under 18. Reader discretion is advised. 

“You’re fussing,” Aelin said, one brow quirked at Rowan while he checked the wound that was mostly healed and had been for a few days. On the table, a fresh pot of tea was steeping next to a teacup, ready for her to sip as soon as he was content. He had also gone into town again for supplies. Rowan had spent the last forty-five minutes in the kitchen working on toasting a baguette and making her a delicious soup that she’d already finished a bowl of. 

“I’m not fussing.”

“You’re fussing,” Fenrys agreed from across the room, not taking his eyes off the TV. 

It had been a long two weeks. Fenrys had been in and out, bringing them as much information he was able to gather, but it wasn’t much. There was no new information on the case, no new information on Aelin. Nobody seemed to know where they had disappeared to, and nobody seemed to suspect Fenrys. If they did, they weren’t saying anything. 

“You were shot -”

“And now I’m fine! It’s been weeks since it happened. The wound is closed, it doesn’t look or feel infected. You’re going berserk for no reason.” Rowan sighed and sat down next to her, pulling her feet into his lap. Absently, he began to rub the soles of her feet and it felt so good that she couldn’t help the moan that fell from her lips. A moan that had Rowan tensing. He hadn’t heard her make that sort of sound since the night weeks ago when he’d awoken from a nightmare and sprinted across town to feel her body against his. 

Aelin sat up and crawled onto his lap, ran her fingers through his hair. Her eyes followed the silver strands as they shifted and twined through her fingers, the color like moonlight spilling over onto her skin. Rowan tilted his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing as she leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m okay,” she said softly, kissing the other corner, alternating sides until she was pressing a soft but firm kiss to the center of his lips. 

“I can show you just how fine I am,” she whispered, the tension between them a string pulled taut. 

“Well I’m fucking starving,” Fenrys said, eliciting a laugh from both Aelin and Rowan. Aelin’s hands fell to rest on either side of Rowan’s neck. “And as much as I’d love a threesome, one with you two isn’t on my list.” And then he was leaving, mumbling about how gross they were under his breath as he closed the door. 

Rowan’s hands ran up and down her sides and he leaned forward to kiss her again. It was a teasing kiss, one where he pulled away just as she tried to melt against his hard chest. 

“Rowan,” she whispered, a frown tugging her lips down. Her finger traced the shape of his mouth, ran along the sharp shape of his jaw. “You were the only thing keeping me going when I thought I was lost to the world.” Her words were barely a whisper, her lips tracing poems over his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Against her thighs, his hands tightened to grip the pajama shorts she wore.

Rowan didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t have to say anything because she was going to show him that she was fine, he was going to show her how much he loved her, missed her with his hands and his mouth all over her body. 

He lifted her with ease, carrying her to the bedroom and kicking the door shut behind him. He laid her down on the bed with heartbreaking tenderness and immediately caught her mouth with his own, letting the hard press of his body against hers surround her, protect her, keep her safe. 

He spent hours worshiping her. Hours with his lips and teeth and tongue tracing the shapes of every single scar that she bore. He kissed up and down those on her back, the ones around her wrists. He kissed scars from childhood trips and from her time when she was captured and tortured all the same. He spent extra time kissing around the gunshot wound he had sewed together, soft kisses all around before laying one directly on the raised skin. Everywhere that she hurt, he hurt, and he wanted to make it abundantly clear that she was never alone. Not now, not ever again. 

When he finally rolled his hips against hers and pushed inside her, both of them had wet cheeks full of words neither of them needed to say. It was slow, both of them wanting to take their time together. Last time it had been rushed and quick, but this time they had all the time in the world to explore each others bodies like it was the very first time. In a lot of ways it was. 

It was the first time Rowan ran his fingers down her back and felt warped, tarnished and rough skin. The first time she hadn’t felt smooth as marble while he pressed his fingers into her between gasps of pleasure. It was the first time he had half a mind to worry about hurting her, had half a mind to worry if she was more delicate than she let on. He knew her, though. Knew her body, knew her mind. Knew that every single touch was breaking and healing all at once. 

With her head dropped back while she rode atop him, his rough and calloused hands leaving tiny mountains and hills over her body. Everywhere he touched, little bumps raised and followed. The sight drove him insane - that he did this to the woman in his arms. That only he drew these sounds out, that only he made her moan. 

He flipped them, pushing into her harder and faster but the intimacy was not lost. Her hands held his face carefully, brushing away the tears that slipped free while he kissed her and gave her everything he had. 

When they came to a final climax together, he was ruined. Every part of him belonged to her, every part of him would always be hers. There was no one else who could compare. If everyone had a great love story, she was his. If everyone had an Achilles heel, she was his. And he would spend the rest of his life showing it to her, proving it to her. That she was loved above all else, and that he would never let her go. 

~*~

“Don’t go to work today,” she had murmured against his lips, doing everything in her power to seduce him back to bed like a siren luring a sailor into murky waters. He hummed against her lips, leaning over her perfect body. Rowan braced one hand on the bed beside her head, his other running down her side. Aelin’s fingers started to unbutton his shirt, and it was at that moment that he had to groan and pull away, leaving his wife with a pout on her foul, beautiful mouth.

“I wish I could stay home with you,” he sighed, dropping another kiss to her lips that was so quick she didn’t have time to suck him back down into her clutches. Aelin had been graced with an empty Saturday while Rowan had paperwork to wrap up from a case they’d closed two days ago.

“Will you at least come home early? Have dinner with me before Willow gets back from Gavriel and Aerin’s. I’ll…order takeout,” she laughed then, the sound bright and full of pure joy. It made Rowan’s heart swell and soar so much that he leaned down to kiss her again.

“I’ll be out of the office at four and back in your arms before five.” Aelin bit her lip and held up her pinky finger, the emerald on her left hand glistening in the early morning sunlight. He hooked his pinky around hers and pressed a final kiss to her lips. “I’m so godsdamn in love with you.”

“I love you the same,” she had replied, grinning widely at him as she lay her head back down on her pillows, settling to go back to sleep.

“I love you the same,” he could hear her saying it as clear as day.

When he woke up, the gasp crawling out of his throat, he felt like he was outside of his body. His limbs were heavy like someone had filled his bones with lead. There was a part of his neck that hurt, but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling. With his head so fuzzy it was hard for him to focus on anything but the struggle to sit up. 

One hand reached across an empty bed that was plagued with cold sheets and, despite knowing she was likely in the kitchen, his heart began to hammer in his chest at a rate that almost hurt. It shot enough adrenaline through him that he sat up and called her name. 

She didn’t answer. 

“Aelin!” His entire body was screaming as he thrust to his feet and stumbled through the bedroom. He knocked into the dresser so hard he let out a grunt of pain but everything so groggy and foggy, the edges of his vision still black. 

In the main room, on the floor, Fenrys was laying with blood leaking from his nose. The skin over his knuckles was split like he’d been in some sort of a fight but it didn’t stop Rowan from surging at him and throwing a hit of his own straight to his unconscious face. 

“What the fuck did you do with her?” He growled as soon as Fenrys’ eyes cracked open. Rowan’s teeth  bared as he hovered inches from his face. 

“You stupid asshole,” Fenrys hissed, trying and failing to shove Rowan off. It seemed like his limbs were made of sand, too. “I tried to stop him but someone else came up behind me and stuck a needle in my godsdamn neck. I barely got a hit in before I hit the floor.” 

Rowan’s blood was boiling in his body, his body that was so heavy, so full of lead and stones that he struggling to reach the kitchen. 

It was like coming home all those years ago all over again. 

~*~ 

“Oh, come on, Laena! I was only kidding!” Archer was a few years older than she was and one of the oldest in the orphanage. He was constantly teasing her, constantly pulling at her braids.  Constantly telling her that she didn’t have family anymore so she should stop hoping. It didn’t stop the stupid crush she had on him, though. 

Her eyes opened, then rolled shut. 

“Laena?” A soft knock at her bedroom door, a boy with brown hair and brown eyes lingering in the space and waiting for her to say he could come in. 

“What do you want?” Her tone wasn’t pleasant but why would it be? He and Archer had always been so awful — teasing her until she hit them most of the time. They were the reason she ended up in trouble usually, scrubbing pans on double kitchen duty until her fingers were raw and red. 

Again, her eyes rolled open but they it felt like someone was tugging them closed with strings. Taking deep breaths and trying not to let panic take over, she gripped at the coarse bed sheets that she knew were not her own as she was dragged back down into a dark abyss. 

A veil was dropped over her face, Nehemia next to her straightening her dress. It was all ivory and gold with heavy beading. She never did anything half way. 

Nehemia, beaming at her as she shed tears of joy for her friend. Nehemia, who had been shot on the job and not survived. This was not real. 

Eyes roll shut. 

A blood curdling scream while a knife carved up her back, while her skin was peeled from her body. Pain so white hot and terrible that she passed out, blood running down her sides and over her shoulders. Blood dripping onto the concrete floor. 

This was not real.

This time when her eyes opened, she forced them to stay that way, will the invisible threads to hold them open versus keeping them closed. The first words that climbed out of her throat was Rowan’s name, hoarse and barely even a whisper. She tried again to no avail, no sound coming out loud enough for anyone but her to hear. 

When the black, foggy veil lifted from her vision she was able to truly focus on where she was, the familiarity of it cleaving her heart in two. She had spent one year, four months, and twenty one days here before the Ashryvers tracked her down. A year where the government had so hopelessly failed her, a year where she had been beaten and abused. 

She was laying on a rusty bed with a too-hard mattress that didn’t provide any comfort. It was dark out, but she could make out the vague details of the simply decorated room. 

The floor was falling in some places, the ceiling caved in others. The door hung halfway off its hinges and the knob dangled from its hole. It was eerie. But she supposed it wasn’t as bad as the cabin, where she’d been tortured. Again, she tried to say his name, only for —

“Your beloved Rowan isn’t here. There’s no use in trying to to yell for him.” That voice — so familiar yet not because of how much he had grown. Archer Finn stepped out of the shadows, half of his form bathed in moonlight. Aelin's Heart was running at full throttle, working overtime to pump whatever drug out of her system but it wasn’t fast enough. She knew if she tried to fight him right now, she would lose. 

And then there was the matter of her arms tied so tightly with a thick, scratchy rope that she hadn’t even registered until now. Archer opened his mouth to speak, but there was a crashing downstairs and Aelin’s eyes flew wide open. 

Rowan. It had to be. 

In an instant, Archer was behind Aelin, yanking her to her feet with a knife at her throat, the blade pricking her skin uncomfortably. Feet stormed through the orphanage until a body burst into the room, knocking the door from the hinges entirely. 

Not Rowan, but Detective Sam Cortland. 

“EVERYBODY FREEZE!” 

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