My cold fingers glided along the soft, warm skin of his neck. He shivered beneath my touch that slid down to his collarbone, where my fingers lingered. I could feel his heartbeat coursing through his veins pressed against the pads of my fingertips. His chest drew in shallow breaths, but for some reason I was never able to feel him exhale the air anywhere on me physically. It made me wonder if this was an elven trait that I had yet to learn about. He was always stealthy, subtle, and inconspicuous. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism that he had no control over—Remaining undetected from enemies was his body’s first priority.
I had to marvel for a few moments at the beauty of him. He was truly built to be a king. Everything about him had a purpose—His feet carried him lightly so as not to make any sound or prints as he moved, his ambidextrous hands were always steady, yet deadly—skilled beyond any comprehension from me. His brain was empowered almost limitlessly, engulfing every elven gift so none would have the advantage over him. Even his lungs were created to conceal his presence, refusing to betray him in any slightest of ways to the outside world.
It probably should’ve been intimidating, especially since I was half his enemy. And if I thought for one second that I actually was his enemy, I’d be cowering in my boots anytime he was near. But even back in Luïnil, I knew in my heart he wasn’t my enemy. I knew he would never hurt me. I hadn't understood why he had been working for Ohtar at the time, and the Tavas side of me had wanted to believe we were against each other, but I was able to see clearly now as his depthless, ocean eyes met mine with that intensity that only Mycah could produce, that I never truly did believe we were ever enemies.
Had I believed that, had I believed he’d hurt me, I would’ve never gone up against him in battle. I knew without a doubt, even back then, I was no match for a creature with power of this magnitude.
So why? Why did I do it? Why did I let the Tavas blood’s need for revenge against the Isil'Elda overtake me? Was I really that powerless against it? Did I truly not have any control over my own self while in Luïnil? The long list of questions I had yet to face sprouted roots in my gut—Questions about myself that I feared to learn the answers to, but probably would never quench.
As Mycah narrowed his eyes at me, understanding registered in his face as he perceived my feelings correctly.
“You’re afraid,” he stated matter-of-fact, but with a hint of carefully concealed concern. His eyes bounced back between mine, moving from right to left, searching for the reason behind my fear, as if I kept it hidden somewhere deep and lost in my pupils, never to resurface again. And maybe that was exactly what I did.
Because honestly, I was afraid. I was afraid of myself. Afraid of what sickness I had going on inside my body after reviving Zaylie. Terrified there’d never be a way of actually finding out if it’s fixable or not. But most of all, I was scared out of my mind to face the truth of the horrible things I had done, and worse than that, what Mycah truly thought about it.
I should ask him. I knew I should bring it up and just come out and ask him, but God help me, I couldn’t seem to figure out a way to do it. I continued to meet his indigo stare with my violet one. He silently urged me to open up to him, brushing his thumb gently along the length of my bottom lip. His strong fingers claimed the nape of my neck, his heated palm hugging the skin below my ear.
It was obvious he wanted me to speak, but I was completely lost in him. All words that I could have ever said got jammed in my throat—a traffic collision with sentences and explanations of record-breaking proportions formed a massive lump right smack in the middle of my air passages. I held my breath, more out of necessity than actual choice, as he waited for me to respond. The tension between us was thick and palpable, my heart hammering against my ribcage, his beneath my palm.
“Kiss me,” I breathed out, my lungs finally expelling the pent-up breath. His face changed only slightly, giving away his mixed emotions of concern versus desire. He dropped his hurricane irises to my lips for only a second before they shot back up to meet my waiting gaze again.
Mycah sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes squinting in the corners only a minuscule bit. He was at war with himself over what to do. Distraction was always my best ally. I stepped into him just a little more, our bodies mashing ever closer together.
“As you wish.” He whispered my favorite words softly, my diversion a success. His solid fingers traced along the small of my back, sliding over my skin beneath my shirt. He pulled me against his hard torso even more, if that were possible, and I nearly came undone.
All previous thoughts dissipated into thin air like a helium balloon coming untethered and floating away—much like the little control I had over my heart. Mycah was skilled at untying carefully tied knots.
That heart of mine still hammered in my chest as he licked my bottom lip ever-so-slightly before full on kissing me, his mouth crashing into mine. Holding onto his shirt collar for dear life, I did my best not to fall over dizzy from going weak in the knees. The room smelled like vanilla, reminding me of the candles he used that night we danced in the Duck Room at the B&B. But while being this up-close and personal with Mycah, it was impossible to take in anything else but him. He always had a sweet scent that I couldn’t name mixed with an outdoorsy-middle-of-the-night-forest type of smell. It was unlike anything I had ever encountered before, just like everything else about him.
Nipping his lip gently, I reciprocated his lust by pressing myself further against him. It never seemed like I could get close enough. Never. He reacted instantly by deepening the kiss.
Boy, did I miss this. I missed him. And it wasn’t like we’d been away from each other for that long. What was it? A few days? I fought the urge to physically shake my head in disbelief. It felt like we’d been apart for a century as he moved his delicious lips to my jawline, giving me time to breathe normally. Didn’t he ever need to breathe? Even inside my thoughts my voice came out sounding breathless to me.
What had started off sweet and mild quickly escalated to a heated fervor. One of his hands was tangled in my hair; the other flowed along my skin at my hip. He drifted his fingers upward into the curve of my torso, skimming the side of my breast, then over the rise of my collarbone, before resting at the base of my jawline…a trail of flames sizzled in their wake.
He kissed me so fervidly, I scrunched my fingers more firmly around the rough fabric of his shirt for only a second longer before they ended up lost and twisted in his own darker than midnight hair. Grasping the roots, I used his head as my anchor, afraid if I didn’t, I’d float away.
That was how it always seemed to be between us. I could never resist him, no matter how innocent I wanted to keep our physical contact. Our kisses would begin gentle, then rapidly plunge into explosive passion. And that was exactly how our entire relationship started—slow at first, then blazing like a runaway train.
Again, I questioned if there was a reason behind it. Was it all due to being elves? Did they—I mean we—love differently? More intensely? More assuredly? More devotedly?
Just…more?
Chapter Eighteen
~Naminé~
My mother and father’s lives stood out blazingly in my mind. Cathar, too, was out there in the wild undetected by my abilities. The other night when I had connected to him, I could see the trouble in his eyes. The same thought kept haunting me, preventing sleep from reaching me. All I could think was—could they have been captured by Isil soldiers whilst trying to escape? I had tried unrelentingly after leaving my dream with Rydan to reach Cathar again, and I even tried each of my parents, but to no avail.
It weighed down on me heavily, unbearably, and I loathed having to stay trapped in the Earthly realm with nothing of importance to keep my mind occupied other than worriment—knowing my family could be out there suffering, and even worse, never actually finding out for certain.
Again, I lay once more on the mattress in my chambers with the intent of reaching a member of my family. Calen was here with me,
and I stroked her silken feathers for comfort. She would provide strength and energy to assist in my efforts, but without the link to Luïnil, I knew it did not matter either way. Still, I refused to give in to hopelessness.
Closing my eyes, I drew in steadying breaths to fall asleep, but still cognizant enough to create the threads of a dream world. My mind searched continuously for Cathar’s the way a lighthouse’s beam hungers for ships lost at sea.
But there was nothing. I moved on to search for my mother’s, but it was useless. If I could only connect with my father…
And yet, blackness was the only thing that would meet my waiting mind. Distress bubbled sickeningly in my heart, but I would not give up. I would keep on trying until I attained success. Similar to the determination I had held deep in my heart prior to finding Remycah and Rydan, I would find my brother. I would find my mother and father, if it were the last thing I did. They were out there; I knew they were out there, and if I kept trying with all my might and love for them, grace would reward my diligence.
Calen nuzzled her soft head against my cheek, wiping the tear that crept out of my stinging eyes. More than anything, I missed my mother’s embrace. It had been unbearably long since I had the pleasure of gazing upon her or my father’s faces. Long had it been since my father smiled in my presence. Ohtar had violently stole me away from them and had held me captive against my will, and I wondered every moment since if they knew what had happened that day. For I never was able to inform Cathar or my mother and father of my quandary. As much as I worried over them, I knew they were worrying for me even more. The ache I felt over them would not diminish until I was certain with full clarity that they were safe and sound. And that could only ever come about by my witnessing it with my own two eyes.
Until then, I would pretend to dream we were reunited in happiness, and there would be no more pain and suffering for our kingdom.
However, sleep refused to come. I stormed out of bed and out of my room, frustration pouring out of me. My thoughts whirled like a vicious cyclone, a torrent of self-doubt, despair, and anxiety whisking down over me. I could not help but feel a bit resentful over this set of circumstances we found ourselves in. Remycah should have never abandoned his mission. Yet, love was too powerful a force. If Remycah’s actions were direct result of his love for Nariella, there would be no stopping him in the future. No changing his mind. He would always put her first above anyone else in the kingdom.
Unexpectedly, I collided with a hard object, my mind too preoccupied to pay attention to where I was going. Stumbling backward, I gripped onto the source of my impact.
It was Prince Rydan.
“Forgive me,” I cried, horrified over my clumsiness. Should he not be fast asleep?
Rydan chortled, his fingers pressing firmly around my upper-arms. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. I woke up thirsty.” He jiggled the glass of water he held in the air.
“No, the fault was my own.” I shook my head, casting my eyes downward. “I expected everyone to be asleep.”
“You okay?”
“Yes,” I choked on the word. I did not wish to lie, but my emotions were still haywire from our discussion with everyone earlier, and I did not want Rydan thinking the collision was the reason for it.
“Hey, since we’re both up anyway…I wanna show you something. Maybe it’ll cheer you up.” He took my hand, but I withdrew from his touch immediately.
“Rydan, I do not know if that is a good idea,” I tried to explain confidently, but I wavered, for my curiosity was now piqued. It would be an ongoing battle with myself to not give in to temptation, and Rydan was certainly tempting.
“What? Why not?” He did not understand, nor did I expect him to. “Just come on. You’ll like it.”
Without any pause for my objection or agreement, he had already captured my hand and began pulling my body after his. I opened my mouth with the full intent to refuse him yet again, but no sound made its way past my lips. I was beginning to fear that denying my heart what it was most truly after was going to be much more difficult than I could have ever imagined it to be.
He led me deep into the house and around a corner, until we came to stop before a door. With Rydan still grasping my hand firmly, I then asked, “Where are we to go?”
“It’s a surprise,” he murmured, leading me into the room and closing the door behind us. The heat in his hand could be felt all the way to my bones. I never wanted him to let go, despite my brain’s refusal to comply.
“All right then.” I felt the smile grow on my face the same time excitement blossomed in my chest.
We entered another room within the already large room, and he stopped in front of a many-keyed instrument I knew to be called a pianoforte. We likewise had them in Aselaira, though they appeared more grand and elegant. The one standing before us now was simple and small, but just as lovely.
Rydan sat on the long bench, then pulled me to be seated next to him.
“You mustn’t! Will it not wake the others?” I asked breathlessly, for I truly wanted him to play.
“Nah, this is my studio. They can’t hear it.” Laying his fingers gracefully over the ebony and ivory, I held my breath and waited for the entrancing melody I knew was to come shortly.
“This is for you,” he breathed softly, his masculine timbre stirring my insides.
And then he began. His strong, slender fingers connected with the keys effortlessly and with such skill and fluidity, the more the music reverberated, the more the instrument seemed to become a very extension of his body. It was as if he were born to play the piano, I was sure of it. My heart stayed frozen, held captive and utterly intoxicated by the same tune that had filled our minds during our first kiss. It was his masterpiece.
I could not keep from remembering the way his lips felt when entangled with mine. The way my lungs had taken in his breath and mixed together with my own in a satisfying union—The feel of his heartbeat that pounded against my chest-bone, completely in sync with the throbbing of my heart.
My breath came staggering and shallow as I continued to soak in his beautiful, melodious composition. It was a gift. A gift bestowed upon our royal prince, and I could not deny the effect such an honor to witness as grand a gift as this had on my soul.
His tight jawline flexed while he worked his magic, his concentration shining through the beauty of his being. The dark strands of his hair fell precariously over his brow, but my eyes went to his lower lip that he licked before holding hostage between his teeth.
The euphony was so enrapturing that my eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. I shook my head and closed my eyes, not wanting him to notice. I let the music mesmerize me and take me away to serenity.
When he eventually finished, I looked up to find he had already been gazing upon my face. “There are no words to give a proper description to what I just had the pleasure of hearing, Rydan. Truly, you are magnificent.”
“Thanks,” his eyes left mine as he uttered the reply. Slowly, he removed his hand from the keys and glided it amongst my fingers that lay in my lap. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened in the water.”
Both joy and fear clutched my chest at his statement. “Rydan, no. We cannot let this continue. We must put a stop to it.”
Reluctantly, I removed my hands from his touch, and the action upon doing so ripped a hole in my heart. Despite the forced words, I did not want to believe them. I did not want them to be true, but I had to say them. It was my duty.
“What do you mean?” he asked, a twinge of hurt coloring his liquid voice.
“Please forgive me for not making this known earlier. Please, forgive me, Rydan.” I turned away, ashamed of myself.
“Just tell me.” He remained unmoving on the bench next to me, though my back was to him.
“I am but a servant. Nothing more. Nobody of importance. I…do not wish to assume more than what this is between us, but dear Rydan, you are my prince.” My fingers automatically clasped my mouth, for I hated to ha
ve to say what went next. “Once we return to Aselaira, once you reclaim your place as our Crown Prince, it would be forbidden for us to associate such as we have been. I should not have—”
“Hey, stop,” he interrupted my effort to break clean of this unorthodox behavior. “I don’t care about any of that.”
“Oh, but you must!” My eyes flew to his, a new fire igniting within. “Rydan, you cannot say such things. It is more important that you abide by our ways than you realize at the moment. Your mother should be involved with the search for a mate, should you choose to receive one. That does not always have to be the case, but regardless of that small fact, you and I cannot ever be. Princes do not join with servants, for it is taboo.”
“Like I said, I don’t care.”
“I want you to care, Rydan. I need you to. Our people need their prince. They need their king! And so far Remycah is failing at his duty. It may be left up to you to rule over our people, and our ways are sacred. Do not look down on them like they are trivial to uphold. If you should not view them with respect, then none of our people will, and then we shall truly be lost.” I stood abruptly, unable to hold back my emotions. “Then neither of you would rule any better than Ohtar.” My voice was softer than a whisper, but I knew he had heard me.
“But we can’t even go back—” Rydan had begun to say, but I would not hear of it—Not now, not when I couldn't bear the thought of our kingdom being destroyed. I felt the regret for my brashness, but I could not focus on that as I sprinted away in a rush. Ender and I poured so much hope into the Zafriel heirs, hope that they’d save our kingdom from ruin and restore what once was good. My heart ached with the disappointment and despair that our hope may very well had been for nothing.
Chapter Nineteen
~Nari~
“Mycah,” I broke the make-out session breathlessly, albeit reluctantly, with a nagging, horrifying question that refused to leave me alone. “Does being with me really mean the death of your kingdom?”
The Sweet Series Box Set: Books 1-4 Page 79