Page 19 of Emylia

It should’ve been easy to walk away without a second of hesitation. Not for me. Curiosity seethed, curling its white-hot tendrils through me until I couldn’t ignore the desire any longer.

Rounding a corner, I searched for the source of the sound. Homes still surrounded me—though most were empty at this time during the day, everyone at the tournaments, eating, and visiting with one another—but at the far end, just out of sight, was a small copse of tree stumps where everyone chopped their wood.

It sat on the corner, tucked far enough back that you couldn’t see it until you were almost on top of it. Whoever had pissed the chief off enough to be punished, was still hidden from my view—but I had a guess.

Sebastian.

The thought of my best friend being stupid enough to incur the chief’s wraith on a day like today brought an oddly satisfying smile to my lips.

Sebastian was the only person in Ophelia that could challenge me when it came to being a pain in my uncle’s arse.

Caught between our chaos, my uncle found himself in a never-ending battle. Balancing the two of us was like taming a storm—he never stood a chance.

It was hard to admit it to myself but I needed this. I needed to see my best friend covered in sweat and regret from whatever stupid decision led him to this situation. Some baser part of me… ached for the comfort carved into me by him alone. Even if it meant laughing at his misery.

Maybe it was selfish, but the part of me that was still broken from losing Dad… needed him. His familiarity. His warmth. He was my person.

Besides, there was nothing more delicious than watching Sebastian suffer—and I planned on enjoying every second. I practically sprinted around the corner, losing my balance and nearly landing arse-up in the dirt.

Straightening, I caught sight of him—and my stomach did that stupid, traitorous flip, the one that always seemed to betray me whenever he smirked like that.

I stopped moving.

Stopped breathing.

Sebastian was shirtless. Completely, unapologetically shirtless.

Droplets of sweat trailed down his naked torso, golden skin glistening as the translucent orbs clung to the curve of every muscle. Ink laced across his chest—a phoenix rising from his heart, its wings unfurling like flame given form, stretching up to kiss his collarbone. Flames curled over his right arm, winding up his bicep and seamlessly merging with the fire etched by the phoenix—like the two were made to burn as one.

Fuck he was glorious. No. He was more than that. It was like the Gods had hand sculpted my ideal temptation and then cursed me with it, just to watch me suffer.

No.

It wasn’t just suffering—it was exquisite torture.

I stood frozen, watching him sweep the soft brown strands of hair from his eyes, the ones that always danced just close enough to tease his lashes. I took a deep breath, watching as he raised the axe again, muscles flexing across his stomach, his smirk a sin all by itself.

His golden eyes found mine—and for a second, everything inside me locked up

His smile was instant.

All-consuming.

Devastating.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

His voice was a teasing, cocky concoction that simultaneously lit the flame to my anger and turned my insides to ash. And that was nothing compared to the look that lingered in his eyes—the look that held for just a second too long.

The kind of look that could bring a lesser person to their knees.

“Screw you,” I said, but it didn’t hold the venom I intended.

His axe hit the wood with brutal precision. One clean strike. No wasted energy. Just raw, terrifying power wrapped in ridiculous charm.

“Admit it,” he said, voice lower now, scraping with an edge that coiled my insides a little too tightly. “You missed me.”

Gods help me—I had. Even if he knew all the wrong—or right ways—to wind me up to the point of breaking.

---