Page 42 of Cursed Dreams
The sound of Cellen’s voice calling her name shattered the moment.
Thalia stiffened in Vaelith’s arms, her breath still uneven, her body still humming with the aftermath of his touch desperate for more. Vaelith let out a sharp curse under his breath, his grip on her waist tightening for a brief second before he sighed, his forehead resting against hers.
Then, with an aching gentleness that contradicted the fire that had just burned between them, he pressed his lips to hers, a slow, lingering kiss that sent warmth curling through her once more. There was something in it, something that felt like a promise.
When he pulled away, his thumb brushed over her cheek. “Forgive me in the morning,” he murmured.
Before she could question him, before she could even fully process his words, he lifted her effortlessly and set her back down on the ground, steadying her as her legs threatened to give out beneath her.
Thalia blinked, trying to catch her breath, but when she looked up, he was already gone. The shadows in the alley seemedto shift, as if swallowing him whole, he disappeared into the darkness.
A cold breeze swept over her skin, a stark contrast to the heat that had just consumed her, confusion crashed over her like a tidal wave.
What just happened?
She touched her lips, still swollen from his kiss, her heart pounding. She had felt something, seen something. His eyes. They had turned golden, molten, burning with something almost… unnatural. And the shadows, he had moved through them as though they were a part of him, as though he commanded them.
Celestial magic.
Only the High Fae had celestial magic.
Thalia’s stomach twisted. Was Vaelith… High Fae?
“Thalia!”
The voice was closer now, and a moment later, Nyla, Marand, and Cellen stumbled into view at the entrance of the alley.
“There you are!” Nyla huffed, planting her hands on her hips. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Thalia forced herself to snap out of it, shaking her head quickly. “I just needed some fresh air,” she lied, her voice slightly breathless.
Cellen narrowed his eyes at her, stepping closer. “You look a little… flushed.” His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “You sure you were just getting fresh air?”
Heat flared in her cheeks, and she swatted at his arm. “Yes,” she said quickly, far too quickly.
Marand arched a delicate brow, exchanging a glance with Nyla. “We were just about to head back to the temple,” she said, clearly sceptical. “You coming?”
Thalia hesitated, her mind still spinning, but she nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
As they walked, her friends pestered her with questions.
“So?” Cellen drawled, waggling his brows. “What happened with our dear Lord Vaelith?”
Thalia flushed again, crossing her arms. “I have more questions than answers,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, the weight of her thoughts settling in.
Cellen snorted. “I bet you do.”
Nyla swatted him. “Leave her alone, Cellen.”
“Fine, fine,” he sighed dramatically. “But only because I’m feeling charitable tonight.”
They moved on, the conversation shifting, but Thalia couldn’t shake the feeling that still lingered in her chest.
As they reached the temple gates, she glanced back, an odd sensation prickling at the back of her neck. And there, in the shadows of the street, stood Vaelith.
His eyes silver once more locked onto hers, his expression unreadable.
Something inside her twisted, her heart sinking slightly,
