Page 78 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

She didn’t miss the one on Garrik’s, too.

“Always falling for me, clever girl.”

Alora curled her lip, slapped his chest, and faked a snarl. “I hate you.”

Garrik darkly laughed and pulled her upright, cupping her lower back and shoulders a few moments longer. “I know,” he said. That smile turned irritatingly wolfish before he settled her on her feet. “Charming, as always.”

“I’d hate to disappoint.” Alora noticed the silver in Garrik’s eyes glistening. Where she’d expected muddy-gray orbs from a grueling sparring with smoke and shadows, instead they beamed with a shine like freshly polished steel.

Her eyes went a little heavy, scanning the specks of enchanting ash and clouds. Wondering what he was thinking as his hand on her back gripped her tighter, not allowing her to pull too far away. But she didn’t mind. It was the first time they had been this near since his tent. Since the nightmares.

Garrik tensed at her gaze like she’d taken Soulstryker from its sheath and shoved it directly into the star-shaped scar on his chest. Specks of darkness flashed in his eyes before they whirled away.

“What do you see?” he murmured, voice rough and cautious as if he stood in front of a battlefield at war and was preparing for a bloody end.

The icy hand on her lower back withdrew until it was nothing more than the light touch of a feather.

Alora registered his taut shoulders, how his face frowned, and the swift tick in his jaw. Unmistakable discomfort surged through his entire body at that one look from her. And she wondered how he could be so disarmed by her eyes? Was he remembering the other night, too? About to pull away in the first moment alone they’d had since?

Unable to let that happen, Alora’s face softened. Hoping he wouldn’t leave or ask her to. She brought a warm palm to rest over his unusual heartbeat, causing him to track the movement when his lips parted, and he drew an unsteady breath. The other drifted down his arm, kissed by a velvety Smokeshadow when she traced her finger along the smooth skin of his wrist.

Alora said, “I see the darkenednightin battle-worn armor.”

Garrik forced a swallow and drew his brows together.

Considering his confusion, Alora delicately traced her thumb where his shackle scars were hidden and explained, “When everyone is looking for a gleaming knight in perfectly polished armor, they don’t realize it is only shimmering because he’s never been to war.”She tapped her finger on his wrist, a silent ask.

Lips thin in a line, Garrik’s chest puffed with a deep, shuddering inhale. Those magnificent silver irises reluctantly closed. For a moment, she believed he wouldn’t do it. Not allowing himself to reveal what he had hidden.

To her surprise, Garrik’s skin rippled like the surface of a lake from a drop of rain and exposed the painful reminders of his past on his skin.

She brought his wrist to her lips, tenderly laying a kiss on the scars. “You think you need to be perfect. Allowing no one to see. But my dear mighty prince, the torn and tattered armor gripping your body is beautiful. Proof of battle, of the warrior inside. And if I had to choose between perfectly polished armor and dented ones, I’d choose the dented every time. They know how to survive. How to fight.”

Garrik’s breathing fell uneven as she glided her hand down his chest. He watched the fabric of his tunic wrinkle under her touch and didn’t flinch, not once, as she traced her eyes to the scars hidden there.

Alora lifted her hand from his wrist to his face. So, so slowly placing the warmth of her palm on his cheek, thumb stroking beside his eye. His were eyes she didn’t ever want to stop seeing into.

She breathed, “I?—”

“Don’t.” Gritting his teeth. “Donotlook at me like that. Do not say what you were going to say.” Garrik forced himself a step back, out of her touch, and turned his back to her. The muscles rippled beneath the fabric as he drew his shoulders tight and stroked his hands through his hair, down the back of his neck.

“But I?—”

His head snapped back at her. Voice low, edging on something final. “No, youdon’t, Alora. Starsdamnit,you cannot.”

A bristling wind swept across the valley, tussling a piece of her hair into her face. It froze through her fabric, as cold as his eyes had fallen.

She blinked, ignoring her pounding heart. “Why are you trying to push me away?” she demanded as she stomped a foot toward him. “It won’t work.” Embers sparked in her eyes.

Shadows stormed in his. “I am not good for you, Alora. I am not good for anyone!” Garrik’s voice rose. “You need to realizethe monster that I am. Stop looking at me like I am the white knight in fucking ruined armor and see Elysian’s demon lurking, bursting to be unleashed from it instead. These fucking black eyes should be warning enough. I cannot protect you whenI cannot even fucking protect myself.

“And someday, I am going to watch everything I love be taken from me like that dream. And I will not have you there when it happens. Every starsdamned thing I fight to protect.” Those silver eyes turned glassy. “Fuck! The thought of you dead has my dying heart ready to stop beating in this valley…

“No.I will not have you looking at me like that. I would rather have you not looking at me at all.”

She was seething, embers lighting in her palms and threatening to ignite to flames. “I’ll look at you however I damn well please. You think it’ll be easier if you’re alone? Well, guess what?Noneof us are leaving. Not when you were taken to those horrible dungeons, not when you were forced to do what they forced you to do, and certainly not now. We’re not leaving—I’m not leaving.I don’t care if you try to command me. I won’t listen.”

Garrik stepped forward, his body wound tight. Tendrils of Smokeshadows whirled around his feet, his hands, neck. Pulling in a frenzy. Clouding his eyes.

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