Page 19 of Chains of Love

10

LIRIEN

Iwake to sunlight streaming through threadbare curtains, my body instinctively sitting upright to peer down toward the foot of the bed. The pillow remains, but other than that the floor is bare. The bond tugs at my consciousness, telling me Darak isn't far, but the hollow ache in my chest hasn't faded.

My robes from last night are still damp. I peel them off, the fabric clinging stubbornly to my skin. My regular clothes help, though they can't wash away the memory of standing exposed in the lake, Darak's presence burning against my body. I wrap my robes back around myself like armor, fingers trembling slightly as I secure each clasp.

In the small mirror propped against the wall, I gather my silver hair, weaving it into a tight braid. My reflection stares back, green eyes rimmed with shadows from a restless night. The scar on my cheek stands out stark against my pale skin – Darak's mark. I touch it briefly before turning away with a sigh.

The main room bustles with morning activity. Serra stands at the hearth, stirring something that smells of cinnamon and honey. Rook's massive form fills a corner, carefully whittlingwhat looks like a toy horse. The domestic scene makes my chest tighten with an emotion I refuse to name.

"Miss Lirien!" Turo bounds toward me, his hooves clattering against the wooden floor. He clutches a plate precariously in his small hands, topped with what appears to be...

"I made breakfast!" He presents the charred square with pride. It slides across the plate like a living thing, leaving black streaks in its wake.

"He insisted on cooking for our guests," Serra says, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Though perhaps next time we'll wait until he's tall enough to reach the stovetop properly."

The burned offering sits before me, and I feel Turo's eager eyes watching my reaction. My throat tightens at his innocent gesture, so at odds with the bitterness I've been nursing.

"My sweetbread is delicious for breakfast!" Turo thrusts the plate toward me with such enthusiasm that the blackened square slides dangerously close to the edge. His small hands tremble with excitement, and I catch myself reaching out to steady the plate before disaster strikes.

Turo's eyes, wide and hopeful, fix on my face. His tail swishes back and forth, betraying his nervousness. The charred creation looks more like something I'd use in a banishing ritual than breakfast, but his eager expression melts my resolve.

I take the bread, its surface crumbling at my touch. "Thank you, Turo. This is... very thoughtful."

"Take a bite!" He bounces on his hooves. "I made it all by myself!"

The first bite is... interesting. The texture reminds me of sun-dried clay, and it takes considerable effort not to cough as chalky crumbs coat my tongue. But I manage to swallow, forcing my lips into what I hope passes for a pleased smile.

"It's wonderful," I lie, patting his head. "You have quite the talent."

"Good morning, dear." Serra's voice carries from the kitchen area. She's arranging various items on the wooden counter – dried meat, fruit, what looks like fresh bread. "I'm putting together some provisions for your journey."

"Oh, that's not-" I start to protest, but she waves off my objection.

"Nonsense. The next town is at least two days' walk, and I won't have you surviving on whatever meager supplies you're carrying." She continues packing, her movements efficient and purposeful. "Besides, I insist on sending you with some proper bread, after what my boy just served you."

Turo beams, completely missing the gentle criticism in her words.

The door creaks open, and my heart stutters as Darak steps in, arms laden with split logs. His crimson eyes lock with mine for a heartbeat before I turn back to Turo's charred creation, forcing myself to take another bite.

The memory of Darak in the lake, bare chested, his hands on my body... My cheeks turn to fire. He was so sexy, so raw... But he's still an ass. I can't stop my mind from replaying that moment - the way the water had rolled down his ash-gray skin, how his muscles had tensed beneath my fingers. The intensity in those crimson eyes when he'd pulled me close. Even now, my skin tingles where he touched me.

But I force the thoughts away, reminding myself of his arrogance, his stubborn pride. No matter how attractive he might be, he's still the same insufferable dark elf who's made this journey so much more complicated than it should be.

"Love, could you grab the dried herbs from up there?" Serra's voice draws my attention.

She slides past Rook in the cramped kitchen space, her fingers trailing down his muscled forearm. The minotaur shifts, uncomfortable, but doesn't move away completely.

Rook reaches up, his massive frame easily spanning the distance to the top shelf. Serra rises on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips in thanks. He startles, nearly dropping the herbs as he jerks backward, his eyes darting nervously between Darak and me.

"It's alright," Serra soothes, placing her palm against his broad chest. "They figured it out last night. Didn't you?"

The tension bleeds from Rook's shoulders as Serra's words sink in. His tail swishes once, twice, before settling.

"I don't judge love," I say softly, the words tasting less bitter than expected. "Not when it's real."

Darak's presence burns against my awareness as he sets the firewood down, each log placed with deliberate care. The sound echoes in the sudden quiet.

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