Chapter Forty-One #2
Everything about this moment feels so simple, so easy—so beautiful.
Not because the waters sparkle like a diamond, or the green is so saturated, a painter would have to create a new color just to capture the depth in its hue.
Not because of the symphony of sounds filling the wind, or because the waterfalls singing in the background are so achingly comforting.
It’s simply because I chose to sit here, staring up at a powdery sky because I wanted to. A bird unbound from its cage at last, free to flap its wings in the direction it desires.
I throw my arms back over my head and smile—wide and unflinching. This moment…it is a captured happiness I intend to hold on to.
“Daydreaming, are we?”
That voice.
Oh, no. Oh no, no, no.
He can’t be here right now.
Slowly, reluctantly, I drag myself up from the grass and turn around. Draven stands behind me, corded arms folded across his chest, his head cocked in question, eyes narrowed and sharp. His night-dark hair is tousled messily with waves, and there are smudges of dark beneath his eyes.
I bite my lip.
Fuck—gods help me.
He wears a hemp shirt that sags low and sits loosely across his shoulders, revealing a strip of his chest. I look at his sandy-beige skin, the black ink poking through the fabric, grazing the marred scar along his collarbone.
My eyes rove across the exposed pieces of his tattoo, or wielder’s mark, or…
whatever the hell it actually is…as I imagine him shirtless, the design stretching over his sweat-slicked body.
I imagine what that body would feel like if I pressed mine against it. Imagine—
I shake my head.
Snap out of it. I have to Snap. Out. Of. It.
I suck in a breath. “I think I’ve earned the right, considering what nightmares we just faced.”
Draven observes me a moment longer before approaching me, crouching down in a fluid movement. He rests his forearms on his knees and studies me closely. Too closely. “You didn’t look at me once during your judgment,” he points out, smooth yet sharp. “Why?”
My pulse kicks.
I attempt a casual shrug, but the movement is jerky and unnatural. “No reason. I’m surprised you even noticed that.”
“And why wouldn’t I notice that?”
I feel every moment of his gaze on my skin as if it were a physical touch. “I—well…I mean, why would you?” My voice comes out all wrong, entirely too flustered.
He arches a pointed brow. “Why would I care that someone is avoiding eye contact with me?” An aching pause. “Or why would I specifically notice you avoiding eye contact with me?” He leans toward me, his eyes clear and focused. “Both seem like pretty substantial things for me to miss.”
My breathing hitches, and…
Did I just arch toward him?
At my lack of an answer, Draven chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. “What was that powder you inhaled while fighting the Blue-Horn?”
My face bleeds red. “I—the…powder? What powder?”
The tip of Draven’s lip curves. “The powder you blew into the Adder’s nose. What was it? I’m curious—indulge me.”
A breeze blows my still-wet hair across my face, swaying the grass in a rustling melody.
It also blows Draven’s scent directly into my line of smell—citrus mingling with sandalwood.
I inhale it deeply, and a flood of heat rushes through me as the fragrance sinks into my skin, coiling tight in my chest, curling low in my stomach.
By the Mother, I am so fucked.
My breath is shallow in my chest as I try to subtly put distance between Draven and me, not trusting myself to keep my hands where they belong. He truly is the last person I should be around right now.
And I’m not even going to begin pondering the reasons for why that is.
My eyes make their way back to his, and his features are set in an inquisitive calm. His gaze does not falter, staying steady on me—waiting.
I sigh.
“It was an aphrodisiac,” I confess.
“I know,” he replies tauntingly. “I just wanted to hear you admit it since you’ve told no one else.”
My jaw pops open. “You are unbelievabl—”
“—ly perceptive? Yes, I’m aware.”
The urge to smack him overtakes the urge to straddle him.
Until I think of straddling him—which results in a distracting ache appearing between my thighs, forcing me to press my knees together.
Draven watches, something glimmering behind his eyes. He looks…amused.
The bastard.
He huffs a laugh before clapping his hands to his thighs and rising. “Alright,” he says. “Stand up.”
My brows furrow. “Come again?”
“I said stand up. You and I are going to train.”
I look around the placid hills, the open fields of grass in between. “What, right here? Right now ?”
He folds his arms and swivels his head, glancing around. “Unless you prefer to train in the water come nightfall?”
Actually, that…doesn’t sound half bad.
But I at least have the wits not to say that out loud .
At the confusion still pinching my face, he drops his arms and elaborates. “It’ll be an effective way for you to sweat the effects out of your system. And if you get too hot—” an entirely too-knowing smirk tugs at his lips “—you can just jump into the water and cool off.”
This is absolutely, most definitely, a very, very bad idea.
“But…” I glance down at my exposed legs. “I’m not wearing any pants.”
Draven shrugs, the gesture lazy and indifferent. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”