Page 15 of Twisted Fangs

I step out from the underbrush, my boots silent on the forest floor. Rhea turns at the sound, her hazel eyes meeting mine. There's a defiance in her gaze, a refusal to bow to the darkness that seeks to consume us both.

"You're getting so much better," I say, my voice a low rumble in the stillness.

She shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. "I had a good teacher," she quips.

I can't help but return her smile, but it fades quickly. "The dark elves are adapting. We need to be more careful," I insist.

Rhea's expression hardens, her grip tightening on the hilt of her dagger. "I won't cower in the shadows, Valen. Not when we have a chance to strike back," she replies.

Her determination is admirable,but it's also a potential weakness. I step closer, my hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "Striking back is one thing, Rhea. Martyrdom is another. We can't afford reckless heroics," I implore.

She pulls away, her eyes flashing with a hint of defiance. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Being reckless?" she asks.

"I think you're strong, perhaps the strongest human I've ever known," I reply, my tone steady.

I tighten my grip on my sword, the cool metal a reassuring presence against my palm. Every shadow feels like a threat now, every rustle of leaves a sign that we’re being watched. The dark elves are getting bolder, their hunters more cunning. But it's not just them I'm wary of—it's the growing turmoil within me.

I turn to Rhea, her form barely discernible in the dim light filtering through the canopy. Everything seems to stop for a beat whenever I look at her. The memory of our night together is aflame that refuses to be extinguished, its warmth a stark contrast to the cool detachment I've wrapped myself in for centuries.

Watching her fight lately, her body moving with a lethal elegance, it does something to me. It stirs a primal need, a desire to claim her, to protect her, to make her mine in every sense of the word.

I step closer, my voice a low growl meant only for her ears. "You're pushing yourself too hard," I observe, my gaze lingering on the exhaustion etched into her features.

She turns to me, her hazel eyes bright with a burning fire. "I have to be ready for anything," she replies, her voice steady.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the world falls away. There's an unspoken tension between us, a connection forged in battle and solidified in the heat of our shared passion. We really haven't addressed the intimacy we shared the other night and what that might mean for us. It's a distraction we don’t need right now, yet I find myself craving the taste of her, the feel of her skin against mine again.

I clench my fists, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. "We need to move now," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. "The dark elves are stepping up their search in this area. They could arrive at any minute."

Rhea nods, her hazel eyes reflecting the determination that has become her shield. "I'm ready to move," she replies, her voice a soft murmur that sends a jolt straight to my core.

I turn away quickly, leading her through the dense underbrush toward our hidden temporary sanctuary. The journey is silent, save for the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. I can sense her watching me, her gaze a tangible weight on my back. I know she's struggling with her own demons, the ghosts of her past fueling her desire for vengeance. But I also know that her path has become entangled with mine,and the thought of her facing the same fate as my clan is unbearable to me.

We soon arrive at the hideout, a cave hidden behind a waterfall, its entrance concealed by magic and the natural curvature of the rock. Inside, the air is cool and damp. Rhea moves to the center of the cavern, her eyes scanning the weapons and maps spread out on a makeshift table.

I approach her, my steps measured and deliberate. "We've made good progress, but we can't afford to become complacent now," I say, my gaze locked on hers. "The dark elves are more cunning than you truly realize."

She crosses her arms, a defensive posture that does nothing to diminish her strength. "I know the risks, Valen," she retorts, her voice laced with an edge of frustration. "But I won't hide in the shadows forever while they continue to oppress and murder innocent people."

I close the distance between us, my height forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "I would never ask you to cower, Rhea," I say, my voice a low growl. "But we must be more strategic. Our enemy is powerful, and they will not hesitate to exploit any weakness."

Her eyes flare with defiance, but there's a hint of vulnerability there as well. "And what about us, Valen?" she asks. "Are we a weakness?"

I reach out,my fingers brushing against the soft skin of her cheek. "We are survivors," I reply, my tone resolute. "And together, we are stronger than any force they can throw at us."

For a moment, the tension between us crackles like lightning, threatening to ignite the powder keg of our restrained desires.

The flickering firelight catches the gold flecks in her hazel eyes, and something primal stirs within me.

I move closer, and her scent hits me. My body tenses with need. Centuries of control, of keeping my desires in check, and now this slip of a human threatens to undo me completely.

She turns, and we're suddenly too close. Her breath catches, and I see her pulse quicken at her throat.

"You should rest," I growl, my voice rougher than intended. But I don't step back. Can't step back.

"I'm not tired," she insists. Her chin lifts in that defiant way that makes me want to claim her mouth with mine.

The beast inside me, the part that's pure Vrakken, demands I take what I want right now. Make her mine. Mark her. But the rational part of me knows better. Caring for her is already a liability I can't afford. Wanting her like this is dangerous – for both of us.

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