Page 14 of Chains of Love

"I've never met a dark elf who lived among humans," she says, leaning against the counter. "How fascinating. Your features are so striking—those eyes! They're like garnets."

I grip my cup tighter.

"How long have you two been on the road?"

"A week almost," Darak answers before I can stop him. His voice carries that low rumble that makes my stomach flip. Through our bond, I sense his amusement at Serra's attention—and it mingles with my obvious irritation.

"My, my!" Serra's eyes widen. "You poor things. And through such dangerous territory. You must be quite the warrior to protect your sister."

I take a long drink of water to keep from correcting her assumption about our relationship. Our connection pulses with Darak's silent laughter.

"I manage," he says dryly.

"Oh, I can tell." Serra leans forward, giving Darak an excellent view of her considerable assets. "Those scars on your armor tell quite a tale."

My water suddenly tastes bitter. Through our bond, I send Darak a sharp jab of annoyance. He responds with a wave of smug satisfaction that makes me want to hex him.

Rook's hooves thud against the wooden floor as he steps into the kitchen, seeming equally unimpressed with the direction of the conversation. "You're running from something." His nostrils flare. "I won't have danger brought to my door."

"We've encountered many on the road," I say, keeping my voice steady. "But we're not running. We're traveling to meet family in the northern provinces."

"Family?" Rook's tail lashes. "I still find it hard to believe a human family would take in one of them." He jabs a thick finger toward Darak. "Dark elves don't make for loving siblings even among their own kind."

Perfect. I lean forward, a sweet smile playing on my lips. "Oh, you should have seen him when he first arrived. All that posturing and those fancy elf manners." I wave my hand dismissively. "Mother had to teach him how to eat with actual utensils instead of just magicking everything into his mouth like a lazy noble."

Darak's annoyance burns into me like acid. I ignore it.

"And the preening! Hours spent arranging his hair just so?—"

"Your brother's hair is quite magnificent," Serra cuts in, her knife sliding expertly through the rabbit's hide. The blade moves with practiced precision, separating flesh from fur in smooth strokes. "Such a lovely shade of black. Like ravens' wings in moonlight."

I grip my cup harder, watching her hands work. The way she handles that knife speaks of far more than simple hunting skills.

"Besides," Serra continues, "anyone who leaves their people behind shows true courage. Especially a dark elf." She flashes Darak another smile. "It must have been quite the adjustment."

"Oh, you should hear about the time little Liri decided she wanted to be a boy," Darak says, his deep voice carrying that infuriating hint of amusement. I can feel his satisfaction at getting even.

Serra leans forward, her ample chest practically resting on the table. "Do tell."

My fingers twitch toward my satchel. One pinch of nightshade in her water...

"She was, what, twelve?" Darak continues, ignoring my mental daggers. "Decided she'd prove herself by climbing the tallest oak in the village. Got halfway up before her dress caught on a branch."

"No," Serra gasps, hanging on his every word.

"Oh yes. Hung there upside down, screaming about how dresses were stupid and boys had it easier." His crimson eyes gleam. "Mother had to hire the baker's son to climb up and cut her down."

Serra's laughter rings through the cottage. Even Rook's stern expression cracks, a low chuckle rumbling in his broad chest.

"I still have the scar from where that idiot dropped me," I say through gritted teeth. The lie comes easily – anything to stop Darak's story before he embellishes further.

Husband and wife. I should have said husband and wife. Then maybe this cow would stop batting her eyelashes at him every time she refills his cup. I feel Darak's smug satisfaction peak as Serra touches his arm while laughing.

My magic stirs beneath my skin, responding to my irritation. I take a deep breath, forcing it down. The last thing we need is for me to lose control and reveal what we really are.

But by all the gods, if Serra "accidentally" brushes against him one more time...

This is not going how I thought it would. Fuck.

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