Page 48 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)
Chapter thirty-seven
Astraea
Time seems to have paused between the bathhouse and now.
Everything melding together in a chaotic prism of color.
Warmth still surges beneath my skin, painting me with a blush I feel will never end.
Kyros’ eyes were heavy as he helped me bathe, taking care of me with the most tender touch.
A touch I never imagined he could possess.
He watched as I exited the bath. I could feel the way his eyes took every inch of me in, the way every rivulet of water rolled down my skin.
He watched as though he would later trace the same lines with his wicked tongue.
Once I was wrapped in the towel offered by that cranky old woman, he finally removed his clothes, quickly washing himself too.
By the time I was dressed in the scrap of fabric from Mortala, he was out of the water.
The same threadbare gray towel I just used was slung low on his hips, and his clothes bunched in one hand at his side.
The already wet gray material is doing absolutely nothing to hide what is so evidently still rock hard beneath.
I have to force myself to swallow, my mouth suddenly flooded with moisture from my overly needy core.
Heat crawls up my neck now just thinking about the look in his eyes when my own finally reaches his.
The amusement of watching me basically drool over him standing before me.
His black eyes are lit from within, showing the deep gold highlights within, like volcanic veins of fire hidden underneath charred stone.
Now, he breathes heavily as he sleeps. One arm slung up and tucked under his head, the other hand resting on his bare chest. His shadowy tattoos move just the slightest across his bronzed skin, and I watch the magick in fascination.
I wouldn’t have even noticed had I not been studying him so thoroughly.
As much as he tried to insist that he didn’t need sleep, it finally won out about an hour ago.
I, however, am not the slightest bit tired.
My body feels charged, nearly buzzing with energy.
I am more awake than I have felt in a very long time.
I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from him.
My heart flips as I recall so many of the words he has said to me.
The fluttering feel of wings in my stomach as I replay the way his hands touched me.
His tongue. I never thought I would ever feel this: A longing for someone still in the same room.
The face I see when I close my eyes during the day and the darkness of his eyes I want to get lost in at night.
The brutish suitor willing to risk war for me.
My brows gather in the center of my forehead.
Why is he willing to risk so much? A question I will surely be asking him when he is awake.
Judging by the placement of the shadows in the room, I would guess it's almost midday. I slept nearly all night during our ride to the oasis. I still don’t know how I managed to do it, and for the first time, also, in a very long time, it had been nightmare-free.
As though the magick that Kyros threw at it scared it off from returning.
I watch the rise and fall of his chest for a moment longer before deciding that when he wakes, he will need food. I’ll go down and speak with that horrible innkeeper Mortala and make sure she has food waiting for him when he wakes up.
As quietly as I can, I slip from the bed.
Slowly, I pad over to the armoire in the corner and close my eyes as I try to pry it open without noise, but I am unsuccessful.
The hinge creaks, and I scrunch up my nose as I jerk my head toward Kyros.
His breathing has quieted, but he is, thankfully, still peacefully sleeping.
I let my breath out of my mouth and turn back to the hanging garments.
It seems Kellan didn’t have many options when it came to women’s attire…
I look down at the thin cream sleep dress, lined with lace and nearly see-through, and roll my eyes.
It’s better than nothing, and it’s not as revealing as some I know exist. I’ll find Mortala, ask about my clothes she insisted on taking and washing for me, and then get Kyros food.
I’m sure there won’t be many opportunities to run into many people…
The small oasis can’t hold many people, or we would have seen more on our way in, I’m sure of it.
Truthfully, it can barely be called a village with how small it is.
I creep along the wall and sneak from the room without Kyros waking, and I can’t help but smile in victory as I make it to the main tavern without coming into contact with a single person.
Though my smile quickly fades as I realize that I also have not even heard anyone.
The whole place is empty. Being that it’s midday, I find that odd, but I guess maybe they have different schedules than what we carried out in the palace.
Deciding it wouldn’t be horrible if I just ducked into the kitchen and helped myself to a few things, I make my way through the tavern.
I’ll make sure that we pay for whatever we use during our stay upon our departure.
Now that I am alone and really able to take in the beauty of the space, I let my eyes wander.
It's not like the last tavern I found myself in. Vine plants trail along the wood and clay walls and hang from the ceiling. Large-leaf potted plants fill the corners, and the sun shines brilliantly through all of the open windows, highlighting the lush greens and terracotta coloring of the walls. Truly a paradise. I’m still lost in the vision when I swing the kitchen door open, and a startled Mortala curses me.
“Divine wraith! What are ya doin’ back here girl? Tryin’ to give an old woman a heart attack? For all who burn in Zamiel!? Are you just going to stare at me?” She squawks, throwing her hands up before shaking her head and angrily returning to her cooking.
“I—I’m sorry for startling you. I was just coming to look for some food.
” I finally say, and she turns back to me with an irradiated glower, clicking her tongue before she goes right back to chopping whatever the desert fruit is on the counter.
“Do you have a platter I can take up to the room—” My words are cut off before I can finish as she whirls around, pointing the sharp end of her knife in my face.
“Hawk can come back here and act like everything is just peachy, but guests comin’ in, actin’ like they deserve everything served up on a silver fuckin’ platter?
It don’t rub me right.” Mortala looks down her nose in an angry sneer aimed at me.
Hawk? My brows dip as I look down at the sharp object hovering in my face, and I swallow before nodding sternly.
My anger building with each bounce of the blade in her hand.
“Is everything not peachy?” I ask pointedly, and she gives a harsh, derisive laugh before slamming the knife down in front of her.
“Ya got gall. I’ll give it to ya. Ya make demands… Come stridin’ into my kitchen… Who do ya think ya are, huh? The damned princess of Eathain? Get outta here. Go spread your legs for that brute of yours, and then ya both can be gone!” The crazed woman bellows while curling her lip in disgust.
I turn on my heel and stomp from the room before she is even done with her thought.
I don’t even know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to survive in the world outside of what my father kept me in.
I’m not used to the way people talk to me as someone who is not royalty.
I don't know how to respond to the anger simmering beneath my skin .
Every step feels as heavy as my thoughts, and a dull ache begins behind my eyes as I make my way to sit at one of the tables.
I breathe in the heated air slowly through my nose and out the same way as I clench my jaw hard enough to crack teeth.
I can do this. I slide into the chair at the far table, next to a window.
It looks out over the water of the oasis.
Birds call, and small creatures frolic through the brush below.
My anger quickly ebbs as I try to let the beauty that is not the palace ground me.
Although I am not tired, my soul still seems to carry enough stress to weigh my body down.
Resting my head on my arms, I watch nature through watery eyes.
Loose sand blows off the tops of the sandy hills in the distance, and I can’t help but feel a little like the dunes.
Slowly being shaped by the winds steering my life, never truly being the one who carves the path.
“You’re new here.” A raspy voice startles me from my thoughts, and I turn to face a man with dark hair cropped close to his head and russet eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Just passing through, I assume?”
“Um, yes. I am.” I say, shifting in my seat. The look in his eyes as he surveys me causes trepidation to crawl up my spine. I don't give him any more information, but I see how his eyes skitter down over my body and the lack of clothing I forgot I was wearing. Heat blooms in my cheeks.
“I’m Karnnen. Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he sits across from me before I can answer.
“Where are you headed?” He continues, and his eyes dart around the room like he’s watching for something, or someone.
Worry builds as more people enter the dining area and keep their eyes fixed on me too.
All the men are dressed similarly to the one in front of me, as though they are about to head out into the desert and not coming in for dinner at the end of a hard day's labor.
“I, um, we are headed—” I stumble over my words.
Something about this man feels off, familiar almost, but dangerous .
His jaw ticks while waiting for my answer that won’t come, and the way his eyes keep flicking to the hall where the bedchambers are has my inner warning bells chiming loud in my ears.