Page 32 of Chains of Love

The men exchange confused glances. The one with the pitchfork lowers it slightly.

"Your... husband?" The tall one's eyes narrow as he studies Darak's ash-gray skin and crimson eyes.

"Yes," I say quickly, patting Darak's back. "I hurt my ankle yesterday, and he's being rather overprotective about it. Aren't you, dear?"

Darak's grip on my legs tightens in warning. I dig my nails into his shoulder in response.

"She's telling the truth," a woman's voice calls out. An elderly merchant I'd noticed earlier steps forward from her stall. "Been watching them bicker like an old married couple since they left the docks."

The tension in the air dissipates as a few onlookers chuckle. The men step aside, though they continue to watch us warily. I wave at them as Darak continues toward the edge of the town.

The cool breeze whips my hair around as we leave the marketplace behind. Darak's steady gait makes my stomach bounce against his shoulder with each step.

"So," he drawls, "your husband again?"

"Oh, like you have room to talk." I poke his back. "What was it you told Vex and Karn on the ship? 'This is my dear sister?' At least I had a good reason."

"That was different." His grip shifts on my legs.

"How exactly?"

A grunt is his only response. The muscles in his shoulders tense beneath my hands.

"Which way now?" he asks.

"Put me down and I'll tell you."

"Your feet?—"

"Are fine. The ground isn't even that rough here." I wiggle against his hold. "Come on, Darak. It's not like I'm going to run away."

He finally relents, setting me down with surprising gentleness. My head spins from being upright again, and I stumble. His hands catch my waist, steadying me against his chest. When I look up, his crimson eyes are traveling down my body with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.

"Take your robes off," he says.

My heart skips. "What? No, it's cold here."

Why in the worlds would he say that?

The clasps of my robe click open before I can process what's happening. My breath catches as the cool air hits my skin, but Darak's hands are warm as they slide beneath the fabric. His fingers spread across my waist, and my mind goes blank.

"I wasn't sure if you heard me that night at the inn," he says, his thumbs tracing circles on my skin. My pulse quickens at his touch. "But I want to tell you now. You're... You're beautiful, Lirien."

The words pierce through me like an arrow. My throat tightens as memories flood back – Serra's curves, the way he looked at her, his teasing about my unremarkable body. I try to step back, but his grip holds me steady.

"Don't." The word comes out hoarse. "I don't need your pity."

His crimson eyes flash with something dangerous. "Pity?"

"I know what Dark Elves think of humans." My hands press against his chest, though I can't bring myself to push him away. "We're toys. Pets. I won't be your entertainment until something better comes along."

"Is that what you think?" His fingers flex against my skin. "That I carried you through town, fought beside you, strengthened our bond... for entertainment?"

Heat creeps up my neck. "Then why?"

Instead of answering, he pulls me closer, one hand sliding up my back. My breath hitches as his forehead touches mine, his dark hair falling forward to brush my cheeks.

"Because you're infuriating," he whispers. "And fascinating. And yes, beautiful."

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