Page 8 of The Jester

“Are you lost?” The stranger’s voice drips through me like liquid silver.

I do not turn to face him. Instead, I keep watching the water and allowing the fury of the falls to fill my ears.

“Not lost. Alone.” I steeple my fingers, close my eyes, and turn my face up to the sky – where a slowly rising moon smiles down on me.

“Very well.” The stranger moves back through the undergrowth.

But I catch myself spinning around and saying, “Wait...”

I turn to look at him. He is still wearing his mask but my wings flutter as I take in his appearance. His gaze locks onto mine with a power that leaves me unable to move. His athletic frame is illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the trees. Around the mask, his hair is hidden by a hooded dark grey cloak that drifts down over his shoulders.

He takes a step closer, and I can’t help but admire the way his loose silver pants hug his lean hips and the way his thick leather belt accentuates his toned abdomen.

Inside my gloves, my hands feel hot and my fingers twitch with the sudden, overwhelming need to touch him.

Is that my need? Or his?

I am so intoxicated by his gaze, I can barely tell which emotions are his and which are mine. Especially when I take in his bare, sculpted chest. Moving closer still, he smirks at me. I know he is smirking because I feel it – the arrogance in his swagger. The glint in his onyx eyes that tells me he is completely aware of the effect he is having on me.

A flush of warmth spreads through my body as I drink in the sight of him.

It has been so long since I allowed myself to feel this way about anyone – so long since I felt seen or wanted or desired – but somehow this man, this stranger, exudes a primal energy that turns my entire body to liquid.

I move closer, allowing myself to revel in the way it feels to be near him. Allowing the sensations to drown out the ache in my heart that settled there when I realised the man I once loved and my best friend are in love with each other.

Closing the distance between us, I keep my eyes fixed on his.

The air seems to crackle with anticipation. I search for his wings, trying to discover which element he is aligned to. But he has retracted them, and shows no signs of setting them free.

“Are you an empath?” I ask, the words slipping out before I have a chance to stop them.

He pauses. His fingers twitch at his sides as if he is resisting the urge to reach out and touch me. “No,” he says. “But you are, si’thari. Aren’t you?”

“Si’thari? You speak the old tongue?” I frown but he laughs.

“Si’thari – beautiful bird – is all I know. My older brother taught it to me to impress girls.”

I laugh in return and shake my head. “It’s working.”

He tilts his head. “You didn’t answer my question.” His tone darkens.

Breathlessly, I nod. “Yes, I am an empath. Does that scare you?”

I worry the hem of my gloves. I yearn to have the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips, to lose myself in the depths of those mesmerising eyes. But I can’t.

I can fuck him, but I can’t touch him.

“You do not scare me,” he breathes. “You disarm me.” His hand lands on my hip and squeezes tightly, jerking a surprised sigh from my chest.

“Do you know who I am?” I stare into his eyes, searching for the murky grey mist that will tell me he’s lying.

“Varia,” he says. And he means it.

I begin to smile. His fingers move from my hip to my face, and he traces the edge of my mask as I lean into his hand.

Intoxicating anticipation turns to fiery passion in my core. My heart races, my breath quickening as I wait for him to speak, to reveal more of himself to me. To tell me his name.

But he does not. Instead, he takes my hand, turns, and leads me towards the waterfall. We cross the rocks with ease. While I use my wings to keep myself steady, he uses just his balance and his quick-moving feet.

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