Page 51

While You Were Gone

I scream, jerk away, and scramble backward.

Netharu’el lies a short distance away, propped on his elbows.

His body is lean and sculpted, clad in a tight singlet and leather breeches. His lips curve into a mischievous smirk, and his horns are just as broad as I remember.

“You’re surprised to see me.” His gaze sweeps over me, taking everything in.

I spring to my feet, shove my sword into its sheath, and refuse to look at him. Instead, I turn on my heel and march toward the huts.

He follows. Close behind. “You’re upset. Why?”

I quicken my steps.

“Iszaelda.” His voice is steadier now, firm. “I expect an answer.”

I turn and walk into the grove of palm trees. One more tale before I reach the hut.

Netharu’el’s hand clamps around my wrist, hard. Before I can react, he shoves me back against a tree trunk. So forcefully the bark digs into my spine like nails.

For a few sparks, I falter and shoot him a blazing glare. Then I snarl, struggling, twisting, kicking, fists clenched, jaw locked.

His body pins me in place. His clothes are rough and clean, not a single stain on them.

“You don’t ignore me. Do you understand?” he hisses.

“Why were you gone so long?”

“I had to,” he says, shoving a hand through his soft, loose hair.

“You said you’d only be gone for a few days, didn’t you?”

“Does that matter?”

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

His jaw is clenched. And his eyes. Dark as a dragon’s, deep as an abyss, yet warm. Warm, as if he cares.

The memories of the dream crash over me, a tidal wave, a breaking dam. The full lips, the flick of his tongue, the sharp teeth, the tension in his biceps, the heat of his breath.

The way he pressed me against the fence, the roar of the waterfall, the relentless plunge of his tongue, deeper, deeper, deeper into my throat. The scrape of his teeth against my lips. His body crushing against mine, hungry, wild, burning.

I struggle to remember what I was about to say. The irritation is gone, swept away. Now all I want to do is press myself against him. Nothing else.

“I had to train,” I snap. “Alone. For a whole mooncrescent. Because you took some fiery vacation.”

My gaze drifts to his chest, the muscles shifting beneath the singlet. I want to touch them. Let my hands rest there. Squeeze.

“You’re quite charming when you’re angry, my dear.”

His lips, slightly parted, slightly wet.

“Can you take me seriously?”

His chin is smooth, his jawline taut and defined. I want to kiss along it, from ear to ear, ending at his mouth.

“I had vital matters to attend to.”

“Sounds convincing.”

“But indeed, I apologize.”

“As if that would make everything right.”

“I should’ve informed you I was delayed. Satisfied?” His grip on my arms is firm. Hard.

I breathe heavier. I can’t stop staring at his lips. His jawline. I can’t stop staring at his ears.

“Yes.” I swallow against the dryness in my throat. “Thank you.”

He releases me and leans against the tree trunk beside me, his arms brushing mine. “Bel’Akra, you need to learn to control your temper. You can’t talk to me like that.”

Even though his hands held me so tightly, I miss them. I want to feel them. Again.

“And you need to learn to keep your promises!” I snap.

He’s close. His chest is near, his hip is near, and his face is near.

I meet his eyes.

The dream felt real. To me, it was real. Before the dream, there was no force between us. No energy, no… pathetic thoughts like these.

“How has your training been in my absence?” he asks.

Saxxic awful. “Fine.”

“Have you been running every day?”

“Yes.”

“Practicing with the training dummies?”

“Yes.”

“Have you?—”

“So how was your mooncrescent?”

He smirks, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “It was brilliant.”

Oh, that smile.

Iszaelda, stop!

His gaze drifts over my face, studying me. He leans in. “How did it turn out?”

“How did what turn out? I’m not a mind reader.”

“Did you dream of me?” His voice dips, thick with his Arzakean accent. He growls the words.

I laugh outright. “I have other things to… I mean, no.”

“No?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I can see you’re lying.”

I cross my arms, shifting against the tree, my right shoulder pressed against the bark. “And how in the fires would you know that?”

“You’re easy to read.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“For starters, you blink like you’re trying to chase off a fly.”

“And?”

“You bite your lip.”

“That’s not true.” I press my lips together, pouting to keep my teeth hidden.

“Not true?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” His fingers trace over his horns. Slow, so slow.

I know how they feel, smooth and firm yet rough beneath the touch.

I glare at him.

“Are you sure?” he presses.

“For Saxx’s sake!”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Yes! I dreamed of you!”

He lets go of his horns and leans in closer. “Did you really?”

The wind rustles through the palm leaves, and the first raindrops fall. I shiver. One lands on my forehead, another on the tip of my nose.

“Unfortunately.” I sigh. “But do you know what it was?”

“Tell me.”

“A nightmare.”

“What did I do that was so terrible?”

I turn toward the huts, unwilling to linger in the rain. “You were just yourself. That was enough.” I glance back at him, blinking.

“You’re going to regret saying that by dawn, my dear.”

As we step inside, the hut is dark. Netharu’el lights the candles, filling the room with a glow of deep orange and warm browns. The scent of smoke stings my eyes. Tastes of something burnt.

Netharu’el begins undressing. Piece by piece. Garment by garment. He bares his muscles without hesitation, utterly unashamed. Before lying down on the bed, he turns and smirks.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been standing there since we walked in.”

“I… was thinking.”

“About what?”

He slips under the blanket, his legs concealed but the rest of him not. I set my sheathed weapon on the table, the buckles clinking softly. As I strip off my clothes, I feel Netharu’el’s gaze, hot against my skin. I slide into bed in nothing but my undershorts and chest wrap.

“You’re so curious, Netharu’el, but you can’t know everything. Unfortunately.”

“There are a few vital things you haven’t explained to me.”

“Like what?” I turn to face him, hands tucked under the pillow, legs curled in a fetal position, ready to sleep.

“Like why Kathraanis agreed to train you.”

“Poor Netharu’el.” I let out a mocking laugh. “So many questions, so few answers. It must be exhausting.”

“Don’t toy with me. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Do you two have a history?”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Are you related?”

“How could that even be possible?”

“Did you threaten her?”

“No!” I fling my pillow at him. “Shut up!”

He catches it, inhaling sharply, then lifts it, eyes narrowing. “Did you just throw something at me?”

“What does it look like, saalnaninndoe?”

“Saalna, what?”

“Smartass.”

“Ah.”

“Take note, that was sarcasm.”

“Noted, my dear.”

He rises, stepping forward, the wooden floor groaning beneath his weight. I roll off the bed, hitting the ground, splinters scraping my back.

Then I twist and slip under the bed, past the two black scorch marks on the planks. Hiding.

Netharu’el bends down, reaching for me.

“Go away!” I shout, laughing.

I press myself against the wall, breathless with laughter. Netharu’el slides under the bed quickly. Cutting off my escape. I can’t flee. And he’s brought the pillow, pressing it triumphantly against my face, pinning me down with his weight.

“Stop!” I yell, but my voice is smothered.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Stop!”

“Sota?”

I slap him across the face and kick at his calves, but he doesn’t budge. He’s solid and immovable. Finally, I manage to shove the pillow aside and suck in a breath. My eyes fly open in frustration, my hair tangled, my heart hammering, my chestwrap crooked. I glare at him.

Behind him, the wooden planks stretch in perfect lines. It’s dim, shadows thick under the bed, the candlelight flickering beyond, casting a warm glow on the dresser.

“Sota?” he whispers, lips curling into a smug grin.

“No, sutn’dar! You know exactly what I said, don’t you?”

“You and your Elvish.”

“I could teach you if you teach me Demonic.”

“That will never happen,” he murmurs. His forehead rests against mine, his chest pressing into my chestwrap, his hips flush with mine. “And you know why.”

“You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of.”

“Is that so? Then please enlighten me, my dear.”

“Forget it.”

My heart races, pounding so hard it feels like it might break free from my ribs. Beating against itself, wild, relentless. I’m afraid Netharu’el will hear it. Or worse, that he’ll feel it through my skin.

“Iszaelda?” he whispers.

“What is it, Sota?”

He laughs, shaking his head. A shiver runs through me, sharp, burning and pulsing beneath my skin. My arm aches, but I keep it raised, refusing to let it brush against him; my fingers hook onto a wooden plank beneath the bed frame.

“Describe something from your old life. What was it like?”

“Living in the forest was peaceful. And being with… my family.”

“But?”

“It was always dark. The sun was gone. And they tried to make me into someone I wasn’t.”

“Who?”

“I was meant to be this kind of woman . No sword, no defiance. Different. There were far more sun elves I despised than ones I could tolerate.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“And why not?”

“You strike me as the type of elf who collects enemies as effortlessly as Acranta collects allies.”

I smirk, memories stirring. “That’s true. I don’t like other elves.”

“You know what, Sota?”

“What?”

“Neither do I.”

My arm throbs. I let go, my hand falling onto Netharu’el’s shoulder blade. Hard, solid. He tenses at the touch. His lips are so close I can barely breathe.

“Maybe you can tell me something about yourself now?” I murmur, my voice rough and unsteady. The air between us is thick.

“Me? I’m not particularly interesting.”

“Come on.”

His fingers trace along my temple, slow and deliberate. As if painting a pattern, like the ones carved into his own skin. “One thing.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m not a good elf.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“Your name. You do know what it means, don’t you?”

He smirks. “To star elves, it’s just another name.”

“Nath means darkness. Riel means soul.”

“Dark soul?”

“Dark soul.”

“Ah.” His fingers drift lower, skimming the curve of my throat. “How fitting.”

“I’m not good either.”

“Oh?”

“I want to be, for my sister’s sake. But I’m not as kind as I should be. Not as a sun elf ought to be.”

“You know, Sota, there are many noble-hearted elves in this world. Surely, there must be some who aren’t.”

“But I never said I was wicked. Only that I’m not as good as I wish I were.”

“Words don’t tell everything. Your body speaks louder.”

His breath invades my senses, filling my lungs. His lips hover only a flake away. I drag my fingers down his spine, tracing the ridge where muscle dips into bone. He leans in, and a shiver prickles over my skin. He’s so warm— intoxicatingly warm.

The dream won’t leave me. It lingers and burns.

We’ve kissed, and yet we haven’t. And all I want is to do it again.

“And what else, Netharu’el? What more is there to know about you?”

“My past is… stormy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been successful for most of my life.”

“But?”

“I’ve had my share of setbacks along the way.”

His breath spills over me, hot enough to scorch. His lips, slightly parted, are inviting. My gaze flickers between them and his eyes, which have held steady, locked onto mine.

Until now.

For the first time, he looks at my mouth.

My breath quickens. I pull him closer. His fingers tighten in my hair, and he exhales sharply. Our noses brush. I meet his gaze, and he stares at my lips, uncertain and hesitant.

Just kiss me.

His eyes meet mine again. They’re wide now. Black as midnight. Thirsting. Darkness pulses beneath his storm-dark skin.

If I lean in, our lips will touch. If I just?—

The door slams open. Heat floods me, like someone just dumped a bucket of boiling water over my head.

“Zel! I just talked to Baalvon. Like I said I would, and do you know what he told me? It’s funny, he said that—wait, where are you? Hello?”

Footsteps cross the room. Closer. And closer. The wind creaks the door on its hinges.

Netharu’el is motionless, every muscle wound tight.

“You’re… under the bed. Oh! Hi, Neth! Welcome back! I had no idea you—uh, I mean, that you were here.”

“I live here,” he mutters, shooting me a glance before crawling from beneath the bed. I follow, my cheeks burning as I meet Acranta’s wide eyes and slightly agape mouth.

Blushing? Really?

“We were just talking.” I tug at my wrinkled chestwrap, quickly wrapping myself in the blanket.

“Oh.” She smiles. Too big, too forced. But there’s tension behind it. And she very obviously avoids looking at Netharu’el. “We’ll talk at dawn instead! I don’t want to interrupt. You two carry on; I’ll go.”

It is late. The end of erenight, the beginning of night.

I wonder what she’s even doing awake.

“Good night, Acranta.”

“Right! Good night. And to you too, Neth!” She makes her way to the door but hesitates just before stepping out. She mimes something at me while Netharu’el is turned away.

Acranta, please. I have no idea what you are trying to say. Either I’m blind, or you don’t know how to mime.

Still, I pretend to understand and give her a polite smile. I watch as she slips out and carefully shuts the door behind her.

“You’re friends,” Netharu’el remarks as he settles into his bed.

“I suspect we have been for some time now. Ever since she tackled me on the field.”

“Probably.”

“We spent a lot of time together while you were away.” I lie down and realize something is missing. “Do you still have my pillow?”

He smirks. “Maybe.”

“Throw it over.”

“You could come and get it.”

“Just toss it.”

“As you wish.” He flings it, and it lands right in my face.

“Thanks, Netharu’el,” I mutter, adjusting it beneath my head. I settle in. I can’t help but smile. Can’t stop smiling. Not one of my usual problems.

“Go to sleep, Sota,” he murmurs.

“You first. Stop talking.”

“You could stop, too.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Have you gone deaf? Did I throw the pillow that hard?”

“Oh, no, there’s just this annoying buzzing, probably a fly.”

He laughs, the sound low and easy. “That’s just your voice. It hasn’t stopped.”

I close my eyes. Refuse to answer.

And drift off. Still smiling.