Page 25 of Dark Rebel’s Reckoning (The Children Of The Gods #93)

25

KYRA

" H ere you go," Max handed Ell-rom a pair of loose gym pants and a T-shirt. "These should fit you."

"Thank you." Ell-rom tucked the small bundle under his arm. "I couldn't wait for Jasmine to return with our things to wash the filth off."

None of their saviors had showered on the plane, so the saved would have enough water to wash themselves, which Kyra appreciated greatly and had taken advantage of, but she craved a proper shower in the beautiful bathroom in the luxurious master suite.

More than that, though, she craved time alone with Max.

Syssi and Kian had departed a while ago, taking Jasmine with them to the village, and now Ell-rom was leaving for the other penthouse, but Fenella didn't show any indications of wanting to retire for the evening.

The silence that settled over the living room after Ell-rom's departure was oppressive. He'd been the one doing most of the talking for the past hour, telling her and Fenella the incredible story of his seven-thousand-year journey from the planet of the gods to Earth and how Jasmine had found him and his twin sister mere days before they would have expired.

Max had explained about stasis and how it worked only for immortals and not the Kra-ell, and he'd also said something about the Fates guiding Jasmine's hand.

It hadn't been the first time the Fates had been mentioned, and Kyra wondered if the belief in them was part of the clan's lore or something more.

Perhaps she could ask him about that to fill the awkward silence.

She glanced at his profile, sharp and handsome without an iota of softness in him, but she'd witnessed his kindness, so she knew that the tough exterior didn't reflect the much gentler interior.

He evoked something in her that she hadn't felt before.

Not that she could remember, but she must have loved Kyra's father for him to have loved her back so fiercely. Her heart still clenched at the thought of his suffering. It hadn't been her fault, but she still felt responsible for his pain.

With a sigh, she reached for a magazine that had been left on the table and started flipping pages, just to appear busy while examining these unfamiliar stirrings that were both exciting and peculiar.

She'd met her share of good men, kind, handsome, and smart, but none of them had evoked anything other than feelings of friendship or camaraderie. Her feminine awareness of Max felt like a revelation—a sign that perhaps she was healing, that her captors hadn't bludgeoned this part of her to death.

She needed to find out whether she could act on it.

Max had been giving all the signs that he was interested, so she knew her advances would be reciprocated, and she also knew that he would accept whatever she was comfortable with and wouldn't push for more.

She barely knew him, so that confidence wasn't based on anything tangible, but she trusted her instincts, especially when she had her pendant back to warn her when she needed to watch out.

Kyra lifted her hand to it, drawing comfort from its familiar warmth. The amber stone seemed to hum with quiet energy against her skin, validating her instincts.

Fenella shifted on the couch, glancing between them with knowing eyes. After another moment of pointed silence, she yawned dramatically, stretching her arms overhead.

"I think I'm going to follow Ell-rom's example and get a proper shower," she announced. "Then it's off to bed with me. I've been thinking about that fluffy down blanket ever since I saw it."

Max stood up. "Do you need me to escort you to your room?"

Kyra tensed, suddenly unsure of her assessment. What if Max was more interested in Fenella? He'd spent most of the way back sitting next to the woman, and she'd heard them talking and laughing like the best of friends.

Fenella waved him off. "I'm sure it's safe for me to cross that magnificent foyer on my own and find my bedroom." She shot Kyra a quick smile. "Goodnight, Kyra. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight," Kyra said.

Once the door closed behind Fenella, the awkward silence returned. A new type of tension filled the space—anticipation mingled with uncertainty.

Kyra searched for something to say, some bit of small talk to fill the silence, but she'd never been good at coming up with trivial things to talk about, and speaking of the upcoming interrogation would kill the mood.

"So," Max said after several moments, leaning forward. "Tell me how you rose into the ranks of the Kurdish resistance forces. How did you become a leader? "

Kyra considered the question, debating whether to respond or simply cut to the heart of what was happening between them. She didn't have much time—Ell-rom might return from his shower at any moment.

"I don't think you're really interested in the Kurdish resistance," she said, deciding to be true to herself and shoot straight.

Max's lips curved into a half-smile. "I'm mildly interested in the resistance but very interested in you."

"Why?"

She knew she was a good-looking woman, but a man like Max must have had many who were more beautiful and not as damaged. Then again, there was a shortage of available immortal mates, so it might be less about who she was than what she was.

Instead of answering directly, Max tilted his head. "Do you feel it? The connection between us?"

The pendant seemed to warm against her skin, almost as if responding to his words, and Kyra let out a slow breath. "Yes," she admitted. "And it mystifies me because I have never felt anything like it—at least not that I can remember." She hesitated before adding, "I don't remember ever inviting a man to my bed."

The thought flickered through her mind that the fake doctor hadn't waited for an invitation, but he didn't count. She pushed the ugly memory aside, refusing to let it taint this moment.

Max's expression softened, and he rose from the armchair and came to sit next to her on the couch, but not so close that they were touching. He'd left a couple of inches between them.

When he extended his hand, palm up, the invitation was clear but undemanding.

Kyra placed her hand in his, and a jolt of awareness shot up her arm at the simple contact. It was as if a circuit had been completed, electricity flowing between them.

"Did you feel that?" she asked, her voice hushed with wonder.

"Yes." His fingers curled around hers.

The confirmation was both reassuring and bewildering. This wasn't just her imagination or some desperate need for connection. Something real was happening between them.

"Is it because we're both immortal?"

Max's thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand, each feather-light touch sending sparks through her nervous system. "It's the will of the Fates."

There it was again. "What do you mean by that? Is it some kind of myth about matchmaking Fates?"