Page 27 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

SOUNDTRACK: Lost by Ghost Nation

~ YILAN ~

I woke slowly, not immediately aware that the bath hadn’t been a dream. But the towel was cold where it had been wet against my skin. I shivered and came awake, blinking at the dark trees before I sat up quickly, mind racing, body tensed, clutching the towel to my chest and…

And there was no one on the shore with me. No one at the edge of the trees.

I was alone? Where—

The sound of displaced water rippling behind me tugged at my attention and I turned… but for a moment there was nothing.

It was still darkest night. The water black and gleaming like liquid metal, but the moonlight sparkling on its surface wherever it bobbed and rippled… Then suddenly it rippled a great deal twenty feet offshore.

The sound I’d heard of water moving must have been the moment Melek submerged.

Now, I froze at the sight of him, back to me, rising like a God from the lake, water sluicing from his head and hair—the length of which slicked down his spine. The water washed down his body leaving it gleaming in the moonlight, shining and wet, as he gasped at the cold and a shudder rocked through him.

Then he just… stood there, not quite waist-deep in the black, his hands extended and flat on the surface, his hair shining, reflecting moonlight like the flat of a blade. The muscles of his back seemed carved from marble, rippling and bunching with the slightest move. When he stilled, the water lapped at the hollow of his back, where his buttocks began.

For a moment I was taken by the sheer beauty of him. It was overwhelming. But as the water trickled away and I continued to stare, slowly I became aware of his scars.

So many.

Some simple, fine lines that seemed silver in this light and would be easily missed.

Others, ugly puckers and bunches, marring the incredible perfection of his back and shoulders.

It brought tears to my eyes.

He looked the way I felt: Battle weary. But strong.

And as the events of the previous days came back to me, one by one, I was washed in a rush of understanding . Understanding him. Feeling understood by him.

I had never experienced that before.

With only one exception, the men among my kind had always either admired me from afar—too weak to approach with intention—or sought to dominate me. Conquer me.

In either case, it seemed like they saw a prize, not a person.

But Melek…

I was suddenly, undeniably sure that he saw me. And moreover… that I saw him.

I knew he was a great General, a leader, and a great achiever.

He was also stubborn, given to dark moods.

And he was a father. By choice.

He had a heart that filled that broad drum of a chest to bursting. A heart so large and tender, he was forced to protect it at all costs.

I understood.

I did not want to understand.

There were pieces of him I refused to understand.

His shoulders rose and that back expanded as he took a deep breath. Then I watched, mouth dry, as he dropped into the water again, submerging entirely… and when he came up, this time his back was obscured by a pair of massive wings, feathered and black as night, but gleaming—glossy in the water.

He ducked into the lake again, rustling those wings that had appeared from nowhere, then stood, his body braced and strong as he stretched them out until they shadowed the water for a dozen feet either side of him and I couldn’t inhale.

He was… awe-inspiring.

I’d always heard the rumors that the Nephilim had the power to call up wings, but I’d never imagined they would be so breathtaking.

Those wings shifted something in him—he held himself differently, his chin higher, his hands clenched. He flapped them once, twice, three times and they snapped like a sheet shaken out, the surface speckling with the tiny droplets sent raining back to the lake, and rippling with the air currents he blew up.

He turned his head, extending the right wing as if for examination, and his face came into profile—the hard line of his jaw, his brows rugged but not heavy. His expression firm. Certain. Assured.

This was his truest self.

This was what I’d seen in him from the beginning.

The intelligence and foresight. The maturity and self-restraint. The sheer strength.

Then his chest expanded again and he raised both wings high, stretching them as he arched his back, the moonlight highlighting the gleam of skin and feathers. He groaned and something about that sound—so full, so masculine—vibrated in my belly and I sucked in the breath I’d been waiting to take.

Melek heard my sharp intake and turned quickly, wings rustling in preparation for flight.

But our eyes locked.

And even at this distance, he pinned me with that gaze.

Neither of us made a sound, but the air hummed, that undeniable electricity crackling from his gaze, straight to my heart. From his body to my soul.

I leaned forward, bracing, prepared to leap to my feet and throw myself into that water… then all at once, I was reminded.

Who he was.

What he did.

Who he served.

How impossible it would be to be near him.

And all that energy building within me combusted to white-hot rage.

“Why do you do it?” I spat the words like venom.

Melek’s face was an emotionless mask. “Do what?”

“You are strong, intelligent, honorable, powerful. And still you serve that petulant, hedonistic child of a King?” I hissed.

He turned, expression fierce, his wings snapping and water spraying from them again, pattering to the lake’s surface. “The fact that you use those words shows how little you know him—selfish he may be, show me a royal that isn’t! But call him stupid to your own demise. That male works to be underestimated by his enemies—and they always regret it. He is not stupid in the slightest. He is incredibly cunning, strong, and trained. He allows no one to see the sheer strength and fury that he possesses until he has need to use it—and then he destroys whoever stands in his path.”

I got to my feet. “I bet he couldn’t destroy you! Look at you! You’re magnificent . Why do you hide the fullness of what you are, what you can be, and cower in his shadow?”

“I do not cower!” he snarled. “I lead!”

“Lead straight into his sweaty palms and wet prick,” I seethed. “Lead his kingdom to victory and place the crown that should rightfully be yours on his head again, and again!”

“It is not rightfully mine!” he roared, slapping the water as he began marching towards me, the water roiling around him but seeming not to slow him in the slightest.

I scrambled to my feet, clutching the towel around me.

“Of course it is! These men follow you, not him! You are the one who has earned their trust. You are the one who makes them feel safe and sure so that they forge into battle with confidence—and win!”

“They win because we are blessed by God, not because of me—”

“Bullshit! If there is any blessing it comes to you and so they follow in your wake.”

He’d made it to the shallows and was still coming for me, furious, rushing towards me onto the shore, water flying from him in every direction. I stared him down, refusing to take a backwards step as he stormed all the way up until he stood over me, toe-to-toe.

He was only more impressive up close—vital, furious, male.

And deep, deep in the back of my head a little voice whispered that, unlike the other men in my life, he did not restrain himself from me. That he came at me as an equal. Not making himself less. Not challenging me more softly than he would any Nephilim.

He measured me strong enough to take him in his full strength.

I swelled, lifted my chin, and stared at him down my nose though I had to tip my head right back to meet that hot, furious gaze. And I let my eyes blaze just as brightly.

“You think God chooses that perversion and self-indulgence?” I hissed. “You think that is God’s will?”

“Of course my people live outside of God’s will—we are the offspring of the rebels—”

“And yet, here you stand with honor and a soul! And you lead—and they follow. Why? Why do you continue to hand your power to that heathen every day?”

“Because the power was his birthright, and if God holds any delight in me, any blessing, it is because I serve him as I should!” he growled.

I shook my head but did not drop his gaze. “Then we do not serve the same God.”

“Of course we don’t!”

I narrowed my gaze at him, knowing he felt as I did that we certainly did.

“My God would exalt a man like you.” I poked his chest. “Integrity to his word, protection of the weak, love for those who could never match him. My God would urge that man to lead his people to the honor and integrity he holds. Not turn a blind eye to the perversion and debauchery. The brutality.”

“I do not turn a blind eye—I saved you from it!” he harshed.

“Exactly! You contradict your self . So, which is it, Melek? Are you a man of God, a leader of honor, and a warrior for truth, or are you the lapdog of that piglet?”

“My God says serve even the emperor who is unreasonable.”

“What a fucking cop-out.”

His eyes narrowed and his lip curled back from his teeth. “So easy for you to say, so easy to judge—you, a simple thief, a spy, an assassin. No responsibility or burden beyond your own hide! I have observed before how quickly the lowborn judge those of us who carry the future on our shoulders. It is easy to sneer when your steps affect only you.”

“You know nothing about my life!”

“Oh, of course, Yilan, you’re the only one with insight, the only one who observes. No man could possibly know a crumb of you unless you spoke it clearly and slowly first, right?”

“No, they couldn’t—” I snapped. “Because men are obstinate pigs, dragged through their lives by their pricks and their stomachs.”

He just stared at me then, raising one brow in a challenge to that, and I knew he was thinking of that fucking vision that I started.

I spluttered, searching for the right response, but Melek, eyes glinting, just leaned in until our noses almost brushed. “Do you want to know what I have observed?”

“This should be stunning,” I muttered sullenly, folding my arms over the towel so his chest wouldn’t brush mine.

His eyes narrowed. “I observe a woman who provokes with the mouth of a soldier, yet shies from the act even at the height of arousal. I see a woman who would slit the throat of a man without a backwards glance, yet offers crumbs to a rodent and yearns to befriend it. I see a woman who will fearlessly spit in the face of the most powerful General on the continent, yet win his friends with flirtation and cutting humor.”

I snorted. “I’m still waiting for the part where I have no integrity and deserve your derision.”

He stared back at me, stern and… disturbed? “That is precisely the problem, Yilan,” he said, his voice suddenly deep, calm, unhappy . “I’m still waiting for that too.”

It was the last thing I’d expected from him and it stunned me to silence.

We stared at each other and the hair on my arms stood up as I realized how close he was. How large. How strong.

He could snap me like a twig if I didn’t keep out of his grasp.

And yet he stood here, challenging me with words, waiting for an answer, not bringing his brute strength to bear.

My breath was shallow and quick. My mouth dry. I licked my lips and my heart jumped when his eyes dropped to my mouth and grew tortured for a moment.

“You are an enigma,” he said hoarsely. “You are a Fetch. I do not understand you, and yet…”

I couldn’t breathe, because I knew. “Yet?”

His brows pressed down, pinching over his strong nose and he searched my eyes. He opened his mouth as if he’d reply—but then only muttered, “Shit.”

Without warning, he took my face in his hands and kissed me, a low, tormented groan rolling in his massive chest as he gathered me in.