Page 37

V rok

Emily releases a sigh. Her body is loose and relaxed in my arms as I stroke my hands over her wet skin.

I should feel satisfied. I should feel complete. Instead, there’s an ache lodged deep in my chest, and I don’t know what to do about it.

She’s human, and she hasn’t promised me forever. But Goddesses help me, I want it anyway. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not for her. But I do, and no matter how hard I fight it, the need keeps building inside me. This pull to stay close to her. To belong to her.

I tighten my hold, just a little, and press my forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Her scent fills my lungs, settling deep inside me like a brand I’ll never get rid of.

This should have been enough. Taking her in my arms and claiming her again should have been enough to last me a lifetime as an outcast.

I tell myself I’ll let her go when the time comes.

That I’ll be strong enough to walk away.

But then she shifts, soft and trusting, and turns her face toward me.

Her eyes meet mine. They’re heavy-lidded and unguarded, and I feel the ground slip beneath me.

I won’t be able to walk away. I already know that.

One night with her will never be enough.

She blinks up at me, the bioluminescent algae casts a flickering glow across her delicate features. “You’re staring,” she murmurs. Her voice is thick with exhaustion and just a hint of teasing.

“I like looking at you.” The words slip free before I even realize I’ve spoken. But they’re true. I could spend a whole lifetime gazing at her and never grow tired of the view.

A flicker of emotion crosses her face—uncertainty, maybe even disbelief—but fades away quickly, and a wide smile stretches across her lips. That smile. I would fight battles for that smile. Climb mountains, swim across oceans, bleed if I had to. Just to be the reason it exists.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to move. “Come. You need to rest.”

Emily hums in agreement, and as I step out of the water, I keep her tucked against my chest. A small shiver runs through her, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she presses closer, resting her cheek against my skin.

Her trust in me, given so easily, shouldn’t feel like a victory, but it does. The tension I’ve carried for so long loosens beneath the quiet weight of her body curled in my arms, and in its place, a strange and unfamiliar feeling begins to rise.

It’s a light, buoyant feeling. Not the kind that comes after surviving a fight. This is different. It’s softer.

Is this happiness?

I don’t know. I barely remember what happiness felt like. Maybe when I was a young kitling, racing through the trees with the other young males, before my father changed and began to teach me not to run unless I was chasing an opponent.

But now, with Emily curled so trustingly in my arms, that forgotten feeling stirs again. It’s small and cautious, like a seedling poking out of the ground at the beginning of the hot season, uncertain if it will survive.

And it terrifies me. Because I know how fragile it is, and how easily it can vanish. Because I know I don’t deserve it. And yet, I want it.

I let myself savor it. Just for this moment. While she’s warm in my arms and the world is silent and still.

When we reach the outer chamber, I kneel and lower her onto the fur. I start to rise, ready to keep watch during the night, but her arms tighten around me, refusing to let go.

“No,” she whispers groggily. “Stay with me.”

Her cheek nuzzles into my shoulder, and her hand loosely grips my arm like she’s afraid I’ll leave the moment she lets go.

So, I don’t leave. I lie down beside her and pull one of the furs over us. She sighs again, and shifts until her soft curves mold to my body, her head tucked under my chin like she belongs there.

Within heartbeats, she’s asleep, her breath soft and even as it warms the hollow of my throat. Her legs tangle with mine like she’s trying to erase every bit of space between us.

I hold her close, letting her warmth seep into me, and I tell myself I’ll only stay a moment. Just long enough to be sure she’s truly asleep, deep enough that I won’t wake her when I slip away.

But I don’t move. I let myself enjoy the way she fits against me.

I let myself pretend, just for tonight, that this is something I can have.

That there’s a place in the world where she and I could exist together.

For now, there is only her and the quiet peace she brings with her, and I cling to it like a drowning male clings to air.

But peace is a lie.

We’re in Tussoll territory, and every instinct in my body is screaming at me to move. To get her out. To take her back to Anuriix territory where she will be safe. I won’t be at peace until I know she is back in the village and guarded by warriors, even if I can’t be one of them.

I listen, straining for any sound beyond the cave’s natural noises. I wait for the sound of a footstep, a breath, a whisper of movement. Anything that might mean we’re not alone, but the night remains silent.

Even then, I don’t close my eyes. I stay alert, every sense sharpened, even as I keep holding her. As if my arms alone could shield her from the world. As if I could keep her just a little longer.

Emily is more than a fleeting moment of comfort. More than just a human lost on my world. Somewhere along the way, she became mine.

I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was that first day in the village.

She was pale and trembling, clearly in pain, but still holding herself upright, still pretending she didn’t need help.

I was drawn to her even then, though I didn’t understand it.

Even with my father’s bitter warnings echoing in my mind, telling me to distrust her kind, I couldn’t look away.

Or maybe it was later, when I realized she didn’t see a traitor when she looked at me. She looked at me like I was something good.

And I’ve done nothing to deserve that, but sard help me, I want her.

Not just for tonight. I want all of it. Her mornings and her laughter, her stubborn determination, and her quiet strength.

I want the fire she hides and the softness she doesn’t.

I want to be the one she reaches for in the dark, the one who stands beside her when the storms come, and the one she chooses.

My fingers find a lock of her hair and gently slide it back from her cheek. Her skin is warm against my knuckles. I lower my head, unable to help myself, and breathe in her comforting scent.

Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

My second heart remains frustratingly still.

Which means she isn’t my amoris. She’s not the one whose spirit would bind with my own.

And yet, it doesn’t matter. Fate hasn’t chosen her.

I have. She is mine, and I am hers. Not by sacred bond, but by something just as strong. And I don’t want to let her go.

But I will have to.

My plan was simple. Once we found her cousin, I would sneak them both back into the Anuriix village without being seen.

After that, I’d vanish into the jungle before anyone realized I’ve returned.

I would live out my days as an outcast, never allowed to return to my tribe or else face the threat of my punishment.

I’d be free, and she would be safe. That’s the deal I made.

If I stay, my freedom will end. I’ll be dragged before Daggir. I’ll have to answer for what I’ve done, and I don’t expect mercy.

But the thought of leaving her behind, of never hearing her soft voice again, never seeing her smile, never waking to her warmth feels unbearable.

I curl my arms tighter around her, and she mumbles something in her sleep, pressing her face closer against my neck.

What if I stayed? The thought strikes hard and sudden, like a spear to the chest. Once it’s there, I can’t dislodge it. It takes root, digging in deep, choking out every other thought that dares to rise.

What if, instead of disappearing into the jungle like a fugitive, I walked into the village at her side? Not as a traitor returning in shame, but as a male choosing the only thing that’s ever truly mattered to him. Her.

Daggir would still punish me, and I would be confined for however long he sentenced me to. And even after my release from confinement, the tribe could still vote to cast me out.

But if I stayed, if I endured it all, I would be near her. I’d wake every day in the same village as her, knowing she was safe.

I could survive jail , as Emily calls it. I could endure all of it if it meant having even the smallest hope of being near her, of seeing her.

Tomorrow, we’ll head deeper into Tussoll territory. I’ll find her cousin, and I’ll take them both back to the village, safe, whole, and alive. Even if it costs me everything I have left.

Because in the end, what I want isn’t freedom. It’s her .

We move swiftly through the jungle. The air is thick with the damp weight of morning, and the humidity clings to my skin, heavy and oppressive.

Emily walks beside me, quiet but determined.

Her steps are steady and confident despite the rough terrain, and I can’t help but feel a surge of pride at how much she’s grown in her jungle skills.

I keep my senses sharp, scanning for any sign of the Tussoll or the Pugj. We’re still deep in enemy territory, and every moment here is a risk. But no matter how hard I try to focus, my thoughts keep drifting back to this morning. And to her.

To the way she woke up in my arms, soft and warm, her lips curving into a sleepy smile the instant our eyes met. She looked completely unburdened, as if the weight she always seems to carry was gone and she was at peace.

Then she kissed me while her hands glided over my skin. I couldn’t resist claiming her again.

Even now, with danger lurking ahead, my cock twitches at the memory of her touch, her taste, and the way she responded to me like an out-of-control fire.

The awareness between us simmers low and steady.

It’s there in the brush of her hand against mine, in the way her gaze lingers like she’s remembering the way I touched her, and in the flush that stains her cheeks.

It burns inside me, drawing me to her, and it takes everything in me not to pull her close.

Not to give in and give us both what we crave.

But I don’t. Because I know what’s waiting for us.

We reach a small clearing, and something catches my eye in the soil.

I crouch low, studying the ground. The tracks are faint but still visible—heavy boots pressed deep into the dirt, clawed feet overlapping them, and in the middle of it all, the unmistakable drag marks of someone smaller being pulled against their will.

Emily kneels beside me, silent and watchful. I don’t have to look at her to feel the storm of emotion coming off her in waves. She sees what I see. Lily fought them. Hard.

The tracks tell a violent story.

A few paces away, there’s a flurry of smaller prints, light and erratic, darting off to the left, as if Lily tried to escape. But the tracks don’t go very far before they’re swallowed by the larger bootprints, closing in fast.

The chase was short and brutal. Her tracks end in a shallow skid, and there’s a depression where she must have been slammed into the ground.

Then come the bootprints again, planted firmly on either side of the depression.

Clawed feet overlap them. And between it all, more drag marks, carving a jagged path through the dirt.

Lily fought them with everything she had.

I scan the clearing, my eyes sweeping over a large, flattened patch of grass nearby. The ground still bears the faint impressions of bodies, indicating the males stopped here to rest.

Just beyond that, something catches my eye.

A coiled length of rope made from twisted vines, half-hidden beneath the underbrush.

I step closer, brushing aside a few low branches.

One end is knotted tightly around the base of a tree.

The other end lies loose in the dirt, its fibers frayed and stained with dark flecks of dried blood—evidence it was cinched too tight around delicate human skin.

Beside me, Emily reaches out to run her fingers over the rope. “She was here,” she whispers.

I nod. “She fought them, and then they tied her up while they rested,” I murmur. My voice is tight with fury.

Her throat bobs as she swallows before her gaze drifts to the trees around us. For a long moment, she says nothing.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet. “Lily’s tough. Always has been.” She pauses, blinking hard. “Not many people see how soft she is underneath. We’re more alike than she’d ever admit.”

I can’t hold back any longer, so I reach for her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into me. Emily buries her face against my chest and clings to me like I’m the only solid thing left in the world.

A cold, bitter frustration coils tight in my gut.

I’m more certain than ever they’re taking her to the Tussoll village.

Like most Laediriian strongholds, it’s built like a fortress and surrounded by a towering wall of cupressi wood.

Getting Lily out of there without being discovered will be nearly impossible.

But I don’t care. I’m going to do it anyway.

Slowly, Emily pulls back. Tears shimmer on her lashes, and the sight of them slices straight through me. I wish I could take her pain into my own chest and carry it for her.

“We’ll find her,” I say softly. “We’ll get her back. I promise you.”

She nods, sniffling hard. Her hands tremble where they rest on my arms, before her jaw firms and her shoulders square with resolve. “Then let’s do it.”

We leave the clearing behind and press on. Emily moves with fierce new determination, refusing to stop, even for a moment to rest. Her pace is relentless, as if sheer willpower could somehow undo what’s already been done.

I keep close to her, watching her out of the corner of my eye and noting the tension in every step she takes. Before long, the sun dips low, casting slanting shadows across the jungle floor.

And then, through the thinning trees, I see it.

Tall, wooden walls rise from the ground like the ribs of a magnis. Smoke curls above them in a lazy spiral, rising up to the sky above.

The Tussoll village.

My gut twists. From here, it looks quiet, almost peaceful, but I know better.

Somewhere beyond those walls, Lily is being held captive, surrounded by enemies who wouldn’t think twice about using her for their own gain. And Emily, still silent beside me, is wound so tight I can feel it like a pulse beneath my skin. Her pain echoes through my chest like it’s my own.

I don’t know how we’re going to get Lily out, but anyone who tries to stop us will regret it. I made a promise to Emily, and I intend to keep it.