Page 18 of Chains of Love

The vulnerability in her tone makes something twist inside me. The bond thrums with an emotion I can't – or won't – name.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?" I ask, hating how desperate I sound. "Please, just come back in and sleep."

The moonlight casts silver ribbons across the water as Lirien shakes her head, refusing to look at me. My chest tightens at her silence. Before I can stop myself, I close the distance betweenus, my hands finding her arms beneath the water's surface. She stiffens against me as I pull her back against my chest, but I don't let go.

Her pulse races beneath my fingers, matching the frantic rhythm of the bond between us. Water drips down her silver strands, catching starlight.

"Darak—" she starts.

"Don't say anything." My voice comes out rougher than intended, raw with something I can't name.

Cupping lake water in my hands, I let it cascade over her hair, watching rivulets trace paths down her neck. My fingers follow, brushing aside wet strands to expose pale skin. The connection between us throbs with each touch, sending sparks through my veins.

Her breath catches as I lean down, my lips grazing the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. My hands slide around her waist beneath the water, pulling her closer. The bond thrums between us, heavy with unspoken words.

"Darak..." Her voice trembles, barely a whisper above the gentle lapping of water against our bodies. "What are you doing?"

I trace down her spine beneath the water. "Apologizing."

"Bullshit," Lirien snaps, but her voice catches, betraying her.

I spin her around to face me, water splashing between us. Her bare skin presses against my body, and desire floods through me like wildfire. Our shared heat begins making my head swim.

My mouth opens, but words fail me. The moonlight catches in her eyes, turning them to liquid silver. Droplets trace paths down her throat, and I follow their descent to where they disappear between us. The press of her breasts against my chest sends sparks through every nerve ending.

Fuck, she's sexy. The thought hits me like a physical blow. Not beautiful in the traditional dark elf way – all sharp angles and cold perfection – but something rawer, more dangerous. Real.

The bond thrums between us, heavy with unspoken desires. Her hands rest against my chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer. Just... waiting.

"What are you thinking?" she whispers, her breath warm against my collarbone.

I want to kiss her. I want to take her right here.

"Nothing," I snap, breaking the spell.

"Turn around," Lirien commands, her voice brittle as frost.

I face the trees, my wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin. Water drips down my arm, and the night breeze sends a chill through me. Behind me, I hear the soft splash of water as she moves, followed by the rustle of fabric. I can feel her lingering anger, making my temples throb.

Footsteps pad across the grass, moving away from me. When I turn, I catch only a glimpse of her retreating form, robes wrapped tightly around her body like armor.

"Damn it all," I mutter, following her path back to the cottage.

My soaked trousers leave dark spots on the wooden floor as I trudge after her. Inside the bedroom, Lirien has already curled into a tight ball on the bed, her silver hair spilling across the pillow. Even in the dim light, I can see her shoulders trembling.

I grab the blanket from my makeshift bed on the floor, shaking out the wrinkles before draping it over her shivering form. She immediately tries to throw it off.

"Stop that," I snap, then catch myself. The word "please" slips from my lips, softer than I intended.

In a moment of mercy, Lirien doesn't argue, letting the blanket settle over her trembling form. The lingering hurt is still there, but the sharp edge of anger has dulled.

I stretch out on the floor, punching the thin pillow into submission before laying my head down. The wooden floorboards press against my back, and my damp clothes cling uncomfortably to my skin. Every breath Lirien takes echoes in the quiet room, reminding me of how she looked in the lake – moonlight painting her skin silver, water droplets trailing down the gentle curve of her spine.

"Do you really think I'm ugly?"

Her whispered question catches me off guard. The memory of her in the lake floods back – pale skin glowing under the moon, silver hair darkened by water clinging to the nape of her neck. The soft swell of her breasts barely visible above the water's surface, the curve of her waist disappearing beneath the ripples. Nothing like Serra's willowy height, but perfectly proportioned. Dangerous thoughts for a warrior.

"No," I say finally, my voice rougher than intended. "I don't think you're ugly."

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