Page 72 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

Rada watched me with enormous silver eyes as I carried her to her room and carefully placed her on the bed. Her gaze never left me as she wordlessly nestled under the blankets.

As I stepped back and murmured, “I should get us some clothes,” she moved with astonishing swiftness, though. Her hand closed around my wrist, holding me captive.

“Please, don’t leave me.”

A desperate plea, one I was far too weak to resist. Against my better judgment, I yielded and let her pull me onto the bed.

“I won’t.” The sheets felt wonderfully soft as I lay beside her. But not as soft as her skin as she immediately slid close to me, her head coming to rest on my chest, the entire length of her shapely body pressing against me.

I was aware of every single spot where we touched. Every breath I took was slow and deep, carefully measured. My gaze fixed on the ceiling, watching the setting sun paint the room in gold and red, the colors so vivid they resembled a blazing fire.

How fitting. Her touch was burning me alive.

The world soon became dark and quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of Rada’s breathing. So steady that I thought she had fallen asleep. Then, her lips whispered over the skin of my throat, her voice so soft I barely heard it over the roaring thunder of my heartbeat.

“I know I should not be.” An open-mouthed kiss over my pulse, her fluttering tongue tasting me. “But I am glad you are here. With me.”

Blessed Light, have mercy on me. She was going to be the death of me.

Not reversing our positions with one swift move to claim that tempting mouth was perhaps the hardest thing I had ever done.

But I knew her. There was a reason Rada never took the last step, why she tormented me with her teasing, pushing me to the brink of my sanity, and nothing more.

She was still afraid this was a terrible mistake.

So many things remained unresolved between us. And she wasn’t in the right state of mind to discuss them. A part of her wanted me, yes, but all the doubt, all the pain that lingered between us eclipsed that desire.

I would never be satisfied with only a part of her.

I craved it all. Her body, her heart, her soul. I wanted her need for me to be as maddening, as all-encompassing, as never-ending as mine for her. All or nothing. Now and forever. It had to be her decision. Even if I had to wait a thousand mortal lifetimes for her.

I put my arms around her, placing another kiss on her hair. It would be a long night. “Sleep now, saeraery . I’m here. I’m here.”

As the glow of dusk surrendered to the familiar shadows of the night, I carefully disentangled myself from Rada and slid out of the bed.

For a moment, I lingered, my gaze fixed on her sleeping form.

She looked hauntingly peaceful, her red locks tangled wildly around her face.

The thought of someone hurting her clenched my heart painfully.

Beneath all her boldness lay a vulnerability I longed fiercely to protect.

And protect her I must. I quickly dressed in a clean set of breeches and a tunic, then fetched one of our Air stones and headed outside once more.

My command over Air was not the best, but I managed to set up a perimeter spell at every edge of the farm.

If someone tried to sneak up on us tonight, we would at least get a warning.

Afterward, I returned to the main room of the house and built a flickering fire to ward off the sudden cold that had crept in with the storm.

My mind was too restless to find any sleep yet.

A soft gasp drew my gaze from the dancing flames a short time later. Rada stood at the room’s threshold, dressed in a comfortable beige tunic and breeches, her loose hair cascading over her shoulders, her expression haunted .

“I thought you were gone,” she murmured, her voice catching, her silver gaze fixed on me. “When I woke up, and you were not beside me anymore, I really thought you might…”

A tear trailed down her cheek, chased by a dozen more, turning into an unstoppable flood. She was crying—not with the desperation I had witnessed after Itzi’s death, but with a quiet intensity that shook her entire frame.

I leaped from the armchair I had been sitting in, but my steps faltered as I realized I didn’t know how to comfort her. Did she even want me close?

Before I could decide, she moved, flinging herself into my arms with such force that I stumbled back a step.

It surprised me. She had softened toward me considerably in the last few days. Yet I knew it was likely only because of the familiar physical pull we always felt around each other. Despite all the ways we had been intimate in our long existence, I had never offered her comfort.

I expected it to feel strange, as holding someone was not something I was used to.

Instead, she fit into my arms as if she belonged there.

Her head came to rest against my chest, our arms wrapped tightly around each other, and her scent, her very presence, engulfed all my senses.

I cradled her for a long time as she wept, my hand drawing small circles on her back, a low hum escaping me.

The truth of what had happened sank its teeth into me like a ravenous beast. I was the one who had brought the Chiasma here.

I taught them to use Chaos magic to fuel their dark ambitions.

They were my responsibility and no one else’s.

It was my fault Rada had endured terrible loss.

My fault that she had nearly died. Again.

“Baradaz,” I said hoarsely. She did not react, only trembled in my embrace, her breathing quick and labored. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. ”

Part of me almost wished she would curse me, blame me for bringing nothing but misery to her and the world.

Lyr knew I deserved it. Yet she stayed close to me, not saying a word, her fingers desperately digging into my skin through my tunic.

And I, ever the selfish bastard, craved her touch too much to forsake it.

When Rada eventually calmed down, the ragged gasps shaking her body easing into more regular breaths, I finally dared to disentangle myself from her and step back.

She shivered violently as she curled up in an armchair, still chilled to the bone.

I grabbed a colorful blanket and wrapped it around her.

“Should I make us some tea?” I asked softly. Her nod was barely visible, but I hurried to the kitchen, determined to support her, even if it was just with a hot drink.

I took solace in the familiar ritual of preparing ashirai tea, in measuring the exact amount of leaves and pouring the steaming water into the cups.

As the strong aroma filled the room, Rada cleared her throat. Her eyes resembled reflecting pools, too big in her pale face as she peeked over her armchair. “Could you add some honey to mine?” she said, her voice husky and tentative. “First cupboard on the right, next to the stove.”

“Honey?” The single word held all the incredulity of a man feeling deeply betrayed. “Seriously? I thought the tea grew on you over time.”

Rada’s expression shifted from sheepish to defensive. “Honestly? It tastes terribly bitter. You must be the only person in all of Aron-Lyr who enjoys it.”

I shook my head, struggling to maintain a straight face as I fetched the honey. “One spoon?” I raised an eyebrow in mock challenge. “Or two?”

Rada swallowed and ducked behind her chair. “Actually, three. ”

A repulsed shudder went through me, but I added the honey as she had requested. “That’s not tea. That’s an abomination,” I commented, handing Rada one of the gorgeous blue-glazed cups, careful not to mix it up with my own.

The soft smile gracing her lips as she sipped lightened my heart. I allowed myself to relax a little, sitting down in the armchair opposite hers. My eyes drifted closed at the distinctive aroma of my drink. Unappreciative little thing. It tasted precisely as it should.

“You must think I’m very weak, breaking down at the death of mere animals,” Rada said softly, watching me over the rim of her cup, tear marks drying on her cheeks.

I contemplated her words. Once, I would have thought so.

When I was a ruthless fool who had forsaken all semblance of mercy, so adamant to eradicate all compassion within myself, to become the ultimate conqueror.

If it had been possible, I would have torn out my weak Human heart and replaced it with something cold and infallible, pulsing solely under the directive of power, unhindered by hesitation or doubt.

But that was before.

Before I realized there were some feelings you couldn’t eradicate, no matter how hard you tried.

Before she opened my eyes. Before I almost lost her forever.

Baradaz had barreled into my life like the boldest of storms, demolishing all my certainties and turning my entire world upside down.

For a long time, I had pretended she was just an amusing diversion, a means to an end.

But I had grown tired of all the lies that had governed my existence for too long, even those I told myself.

I could only offer her the truth.

“I believe you are the strongest person I know.”

She had never permitted her spark to be extinguished—not by cataclysmic loss, not by this dreadful war, and not by me.

Curse me for all I had done to her. The reckless, wild goddess who demanded I show her what darkness is was still there.

And I remained as fiercely captivated by her as I was in that first moment.

Drawn in by her luminous light, by the way she brightened the darkness like one of her stars—by the way she gave me hope.

If I could turn back time, would I offer her my hand?

Always.

My answer had affected her. Her bright eyes filled with tears again. I had to lighten the mood somehow. “Despite your abysmal taste in tea,” I said with a smirk.

She chuckled, a playful glint replacing the sorrow in her eyes. “And my abysmal taste in men?”