Page 33 of Chains of Love

My heart slams against my ribcage as Darak towers over me, his ash-gray skin glowing in the sunlight. His dark hair falls loose around his face, and my fingers itch to brush it back. The leather of his armor creaks as he shifts closer, and the familiarscent of steel and leather fills my lungs. His crimson eyes pierce through me, making my stomach flip.

"Liar," I whisper, the word barely making it past my dry throat.

His large hand catches my jaw, fingers spanning from ear to chin as he bends down. My breath catches at his proximity, at the way his muscles flex beneath his armor. His thumb traces my scar – the one he gave me that first night.

"You are fucking beautiful. Sexy as fuck." His voice drops to a growl that makes heat pool in my belly. "And I would rather choke on the words I told you at that cottage than listen to you doubt yourself for another minute."

My knees wobble, and I grab his forearm to steady myself. His skin burns hot beneath my touch.

"Now," he says, his thumb sliding along my bottom lip. "Tell me which direction we need to go."

Guilt sparks in my chest, sharp and cold compared to the warmth of his touch. I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. He wants me to tell him where to go so that we can remove this bond that has kept us together.

I clear my throat, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the heat of his touch. "We'll follow the coastline east until we're past the mountain range." My fingers trace an invisible path in the air. "Then we go up."

"Good." Darak's hand leaves my face, and I immediately miss its warmth. His fingers thread through my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear with surprising gentleness. The motion draws my gaze up to his face, and my breath catches at the intensity in his crimson eyes as they fix on my lips.

My heart hammers against my ribs as he wraps my robes back around me, his knuckles brushing against my collarbone as he fastens the clasps. Each touch sends sparks through my skin.

"Already tired of looking at me?" The words tumble out before I can stop them, aiming for playful but landing somewhere closer to vulnerable.

His hands pause at the final clasp. "If I had my way," he says, his voice dropping to that deep rumble that makes my knees weak, "you'd be wearing considerably less." His fingers brush my neck as he secures the last clasp. "But you were right about one thing – it is fucking cold here."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, breaking the tension. The sea breeze whips around us, as if emphasizing his point, and I pull my robes tighter around myself.

I adjust the strap of my satchel as Darak hoists our belongings onto his broad shoulders. The weight doesn't seem to bother him at all – another reminder of his inhuman strength. His crimson eyes catch mine, and that familiar heat spreads through my chest.

"Lead the way," he says, gesturing ahead with an exaggerated bow.

I narrow my eyes, studying his too-innocent expression. "You're just wanting to look at my ass, aren't you?"

The corner of his mouth twitches up into that infuriating half-smile that makes my stomach flip. He arches one dark eyebrow, not bothering to deny it.

"Shameless," I mutter, but I can't keep the smile from my voice. The sea breeze whips my hair around my face as I turn and start walking, my boots crunching on the rocky path.

"I prefer... appreciative," he drawls from behind me.

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, light and free in a way I haven't felt since the start of all this. The warmth in my chest grows, spreading through my limbs like sunshine. Something has shifted between us, some invisible wall crumbling away with each step we take.

I hear him chuckle behind me, the sound deep and rich. My heart swells, and for the first time since I cast that spell, I feel we're truly ready for what comes next.

17

DARAK

Iwatch Lirien's hips sway as she walks ahead of me, my mind drifting to earlier when I'd asked her to remove her robes again. The way her skin had flushed, how her breath caught—I shake my head, trying to focus on our surroundings instead.

"Tell me about your life before," she says, glancing back at me. "How did you become a warrior?"

"Started young. Most of us do." The memories surface like old wounds. "My father handed me my first sword when I was seven. By twelve, I'd killed my first man."

"That's horrible."

"That's survival. Dark Elf children either learn to fight or they die." I step over a fallen log. "I rose through the ranks quickly. Natural talent, they said. Truth is, I just didn't want to die."

"But you stayed a warrior."

"Became captain of my own men by fifty. Led raids, protected our borders, trained recruits." My fingers brush the hilt of my sword. "Some found glory in it. I found purpose. Every soldier under my command lived or died by my decisions."

---