9. Kai’rin
9
KAI’RIN
T he clash of steel against steel echoes through the training yard as I face off against Vhex. My mind drifts to Aren kneeling in prayer, her dark waves cascading down her back, and Vhex's blade nearly catches my shoulder.
"Getting soft already?" Vhex's scarred face twists into a sneer. "Or just distracted by your little pet?"
I bare my teeth, wings flaring wide as I strike back with brutal force. The impact vibrates up my arm. "Fuck off."
Mykael circles the sparring ring, his calculated gaze taking in every movement. "He's right. Your form is sloppy today."
My magic surges, violet light crackling along my blade. The glow reflects in Vhex's amber eyes as he jumps back. "I'm fine."
But I'm not. All I can think about is how Aren bowed her head this morning, serving my breakfast with perfect grace while whispering prayers under her breath. How she maintains that inner light even as she submits to my every command. It infuriates me.
"Watch your left," Mykael calls out as Vhex's blade slices through the air where my wing had been a moment before.
I growl and throw myself into the fight, imagining ways to finally break through Aren's quiet dignity. Maybe I'll make her kneel beside me during war council meetings, force her to see the brutality of my world up close. Or perhaps I'll have her serve me in the great hall, where every warrior can witness her submission.
"There's the ruthless warrior." Vhex laughs as I drive him back, my strikes growing more aggressive with each thought of Aren. "Whatever you're thinking about, it's working."
My blade finds an opening, drawing blood across his bicep. But even this small victory feels hollow. What's the point of winning here when I can't crack through Aren's unwavering faith? She serves me perfectly while keeping that core of steel intact. It's maddening.
"Enough." Mykael steps between us, his dove-gray wings spread wide. "You're both getting sloppy. Take a break before someone loses a limb."
I lower my weapon, chest heaving. Sweat drips down my back as I try to focus on anything but thoughts of my little flame and all the ways I want to extinguish her inner light.
"I'm calling it a day." I sheath my blade.
Mykael flicks his eyes over me. "Probably for the best."
I try not to let those words bother me as I head home.
I stalk through the townhouse, muscles burning from the brutal training session. Blood trickles from a cut above my eye where Vhex landed a lucky strike. The familiar scent of herbs and steam drifts from my chambers, and I pause at the doorway.
Aren kneels beside the copper tub, testing the water temperature with delicate fingers. She rises gracefully at my entrance, not bowing her head. It's a strange mix of her submission and her defiance. "Your bath is ready."
I grunt acknowledgment, stripping off my sweat-soaked training clothes. Her hands are steady as she helps remove my armor, each piece placed carefully aside for cleaning. When her fingers brush the fresh cut on my face, I grab her wrist.
"It's nothing."
"Please." Those deep brown eyes meet mine, unwavering. "Let me tend it."
Something twists in my chest at her quiet determination. I release her, wings twitching with discomfort as she retrieves healing supplies. The water embraces me as I sink into the tub, hot enough to sting my battle-worn muscles.
Aren's touch is feather-light as she cleans the wound. "Your wings are tense. Did training go poorly?"
"Since when do you question me, little flame?" But there's no bite in my words. Her fingers work through my hair, washing away dried blood and sweat.
"I pray for your safety during training." She applies a healing salve to the cut. The sting fades under her gentle ministrations.
"Your prayers are wasted on me." I catch her hand again, studying the contrast between her olive skin and my battle-scarred grip. "I'm not interested in you spending your time on something so worthless."
She doesn't pull away. "All souls are worthy of prayer."
That damned serenity. Even now, tending my wounds, she maintains that inner light I can't seem to extinguish. Her care should feel like submission, like victory. Instead, it awakens something uncomfortable in my chest – something I've spent so much time burying.
"Kneel." The command slips from my lips, harsh against the steam-filled air. I expect resistance, a flicker of that inner fire, but Aren sinks gracefully to her knees beside the tub. Water sloshes against the rim as I shift, studying her profile.
Her fingers return to my hair, working through the tangles with careful attention. The soft melody of her prayers fills the chamber, wrapping around me like the heated water. My wings spread across the tub's edge, droplets sliding down the ash-gray feathers.
"I didn't tell you to sing." But my voice lacks its usual edge. Her touch sends sparks down my spine, awakening something primal beneath my skin.
She doesn't stop. The ancient words flow from her lips like honey, a devotion I've never understood. My hand finds her throat, thumb pressing against her pulse point. Still she doesn't flinch, continuing her gentle ministrations as if I'm not capable of crushing her windpipe.
"You should fear me, little flame." The words come out rougher than intended. Her fingers trace the sensitive spot behind my ear, and heat pools low in my belly.
"Fear serves no purpose here." She works the soap through my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp. The sensation shoots straight to my core.
I growl, tightening my grip on her throat. Still she hums those damned prayers, her other hand trailing down my neck to my shoulder. The touch is reverent, worshipful in a way I never wanted. My magic crackles beneath my skin, violet light reflecting in her deep brown eyes.
"Stop singing."
Her fingers still, but her voice continues soft and sure. The prayers wrap around me like chains, binding me in ways my iron grip on her throat cannot bind her. My wings twitch with the effort of restraint as desire courses through my veins.
This isn't how it's supposed to be. She's meant to break, to cower, to lose that inner light. Instead, her touch sets me aflame, makes me want things I've never allowed myself to consider.
I finish the bath and get away from her as quickly as I can. I need time to think, to understand what is going on in my head. But none of it makes sense. How could a human affect me in this way?
I order dinner brought to my study, unable to face her across the table. Can't bear to watch her graceful movements as she serves my meal, head bowed in that perfect submission that somehow feels like victory for her instead of me.
The food turns to ash in my mouth. All I can think about is her fingers in my hair, the soft melody of her voice, the steady pulse beneath my grip. The way she didn't flinch, didn't break, just kept pouring out that damned devotion.
Night falls. I prowl the halls of my townhouse like a shadow, avoiding the sound of her evening prayers drifting from the courtyard. My magic crackles beneath my skin, violet light casting strange patterns on the walls. The urge to go to her, to claim her, burns through my veins.
But I can't. Won't. Taking her body would be easy – she's mine to command. The thought of her beneath me, those deep brown eyes filled with starlight, her dark waves spread across my sheets...
My wings shudder. No. Claiming her flesh would only make this worse, would only deepen this maddening need to possess not just her body but her soul.
I somehow manage to wrangle my thoughts into something quieter. At least enough that I feel I can leave the private library I've been hiding in.
But I enter my chambers to find her already settled on her pallet at the foot of my bed. The sight of her there, alone, separate, sets my teeth on edge. She belongs in my bed, wrapped in my wings, surrounded by my scent. The intensity of the possessive thought staggers me.
"Kai?" Her voice is soft in the darkness.
I turn away, stripping off my shirt with savage movements. "Sleep, little flame."
But sleep eludes me. I lie awake, hyper-aware of every breath, every shift of her body below. The distance between us feels like an open wound, and I hate it. Hate how much I want to close it. Hate how she's crawled beneath my skin without spilling a single drop of blood.
Sleep finally claims me, dragging me into dreams filled with candlelight and whispered prayers.
And in them, I find what I've been running from.
Aren kneels before me, her dark waves cascading over bare shoulders. Her fingers trace patterns across my chest, each touch followed by the press of her lips. "Let me worship you properly, my lord."
The scent of incense fills my lungs as she works her way down my torso. Her prayers fall like honey against my skin, sacred words twisted into something carnal. My wings spread wide across silk sheets, ash-gray feathers trembling at each reverent caress.
"Show me your devotion, little flame." My voice comes out rough with need. Violet light pulses beneath my skin where she touches me.
Her deep brown eyes meet mine, filled with that same unwavering faith that drives me mad during waking hours. But here, in this dream, her worship takes on new meaning. Her hands slide lower, mapping the scars across my abdomen. Each brush of her fingers sends electricity through my veins.
"All of me belongs to you." She punctuates each word with a kiss, working down my body with agonizing slowness. Her prayers never cease, mixing with my ragged breathing in the candlelit chamber.
I fist my hands in her hair, fighting the urge to take control. Let her show me this devotion, let her prove her faith with more than just words. Her tongue traces the sensitive spot where my wing meets my shoulder, and I arch off the bed with a growl.
"That's it, little flame. Show me?—"
I jolt awake, chest heaving, sweat cooling on my skin. Magic crackles along my wings, casting violent shadows across the walls. Below, Aren sleeps peacefully on her pallet, unaware of how she torments me even in dreams.
"Fuck," I grunt out.
This weakness, this need – it's beneath me. I am a warrior, stronger than most xaphan. I break spirits, not fall prey to them.
But the echo of her prayers lingers, along with the phantom touch of her hands on my skin. My wings shudder with barely contained rage at my own vulnerability.
Sleep will not return tonight.