Page 105 of Dark Fate

"We'll reach the Spectre Vales by nightfall," Faderyn calls out from ahead. "A day's ride."

Curiosity nibbles at me, and I pull out the map from the saddlebag. I touch the spot for the Spectre Vales, activating its magic. The map ripples, its surface shimmering like a storyteller clearing his throat before weaving his tale.

"In a land cloaked in eternal twilight," the map begins in its 'once upon a time' voice, "lie the Spectre Vales of Crystal Peaks. Here, pale wisps of mist cradle secrets and confound the senses. Beware the Whisperlings that merge with the fog; they entangle thoughts and lead wayfarers astray."

A knot tightens in my stomach with each revelation from the map, its whispers painting a foreboding picture. Just the thought of Rhyland and those ghostly Whisperlings sends a cold shiver skittering up my spine.

I tuck the map away, but its words linger, portents of peril making me hyperaware of Rhyland's presence.

Sensing the shift in my mood, he dips his head, his breath warm against my neck. "I've got all the protection I need right here." His lips graze my skin in a tender and fierce kiss, a silent oath that my worries are his to bear. He feels each flutter of apprehension through our bond, just as I sense his steadfast resolve flowing back.

I melt into that brief moment of intimacy, drawing strength from our shared connection. Whatever dangers lurk ahead, we'll face them together. He is my shelter in the storm, just as I am his guiding light. With Rhyland at my side, I know I can weather any squall.

Craning my neck, I find his fathomless blue eyes—calm seas and raging tempests captured in twin spheres. "Betcha your ass," I volley back with a hint of sass. But letting truth slip in, I add softly, "I won't let anything happen to you."

Rhyland's laughter rumbles through me, rich and gritty like aged whiskey. "Angel, it's them who should be worried about me."

"Out of curiosity, does your...power extend to, let's say, invisible entities? Or is it just the tangible stuff you can influence?" My scientific mind itches to know the limits and mechanics of his telekinesis.

Rhyland exhales deeply as if gearing up for a lengthy explanation. "Honestly, as far as I've determined, my power is effective only on physical things. What's got you asking?"

My thoughts circle back to that terrifying day in the forest when Marcus took me, and Azrael joined the fray. I remember the helplessness I felt as Rhyland struggled against the intangible forces. That memory makes my heart beat faster with worry.

What if the Whisperlings can bypass Rhyland's defenses, too?

Putting on a brave face, I try to mask my concern with humor. "I'm basically getting my PhD in Telekinesis 101, courtesy of Professor Vampire."

Rhyland doesn't miss the undertone of distress. "You're about as transparent as crystal, Angel. Spill it. What's gnawing at that brilliant mind of yours?"

I take a deep breath. "You couldn't touch Azrael's shadows," I start, my wit retreating in the face of my fears, "and that scares me. If the Whisperlings are anything like that—I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you." My voice cracked, and the final words were barely whispered.

Rhyland becomes a solid, reassuring force. His hand lifts my face, making me meet his gaze—his ocean-blue eyes holding a tempest of determination. "Listen to me," he says, his voice a low rumble charged with indomitable will. "I may not have been able to grip those damn shadows, but I've survived a millennium's worth of nightmares. No shadow, no Whisperling, nothing in this world or the next can take me down easily, especially with you by my side." He pauses, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. "I've got you, and I'll tear through whatever I must to keep you. That's a promise, and I don't break my fucking promises." His eyes blaze with fierce protectiveness, a silent vow in that intense gaze.

Leaning into the fortress that is Rhyland, I whisper, "I'll do whatever I can—I will let nothing happen to you."

It's our secret, a feisty pledge in the quiet of our shared moment. My mind races like a sprinter; shutting it off isn't an option.

We ride in silence for a while, his inhale drawing in the scent of my hair, trying to read my emotions. "Angel?" His voice hints at the powerful creature he is. "I can still feel your anxiety. Is there something… I need to do?"

I'm an open book to this man, unable to hide my inner turmoil. The fear that’s grabbed me ever since those visions invaded my sleep—of him, consumed by shadows, Moretemis stealing him away, my Nordic Nightwalker— is relentless. It's replaying repeatedly, and it's eating me up inside. He's always here, finding ways to steer my mind clear of those dark images.

I trust Rhyland to put an offer on the table as casually as if he’s ordering a pint, utterly indifferent to the audience around us.

The mere idea sends a thrill down my spine, yet I can't help but blurt out, "Have you lost your marbles? Right here, right now?"

"If you don't relax,baby," he warns, the corner of his mouth ticking up in that cocky half-smile I know all too well, "then I'm just gonna have to find a way to relax you." The promise in his tone is as much of a caress as his gritty and unyieldingly flirty touch.

Oh no. What is with this man and PDA—X-Rated style?

My body tenses up instantly as I quickly survey our crew. We're spearheading the group, with Faderyn at our six, diligently covering our backs. Erik holds our left side, ever the stoic guardian, while Lucian's on our right, no doubt ready with a quip. And falling into place, Axiyla assumes the rear.

"Rhy—" But before I can even get my protest out...

"We're going to ride ahead a bit. Give us some room," he asserts in no uncertain terms, then nudges Storm into a swift gallop, widening the gap between us and our companions.

"Oh, for the love of all that is HOLY. Are you for real right now, bro? " Lucian whines.

I hear Erik's voice fading into the distance before it becomes inaudible, "Zip it, Lucian. No one needs to hear your bitchy commentary."

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