9. Darak
9
DARAK
T he floorboards creak under my feet as I step into the common room. My night vision picks up the dim shapes of furniture, the dying embers casting an orange glow across the space.
"Lirien?" I whisper, hoping to find her curled up in one of the chairs.
"She's not here."
I spin toward the voice, cursing inwardly at my lack of awareness. Serra sits in the shadows by the window, moonlight outlining her silhouette. A century of combat experience, and I failed to notice her presence. The binding must be affecting my senses more than I realized.
"I should have sensed you," I admit, running a hand through my hair.
"You seemed distracted." Serra shifts in her chair, the wood groaning softly. "She went down to the lake about an hour ago."
"In the dark?"
"The moon's full tonight. And she seemed... upset." A pause. "You know, for someone who's lived over a century, you are remarkably dense about women's feelings."
"I was just teasing her."
"Were you?" Serra's voice carries a hint of knowing that makes me uncomfortable. "Because from where I sat during dinner, it looked like you were deliberately trying to get a rise out of her. And succeeding."
The ember's glow catches Serra's raised eyebrow. She's right, of course. I had enjoyed watching Lirien's composure crack, revealing something raw underneath her usual calculated demeanor. But the spitting – that wasn't the reaction I'd expected.
"The lake path starts behind the cottage," Serra says. "You should apologize."
I shift uncomfortably under Serra's scrutiny. "My sister has mood swings sometimes?—"
"That sweet girl is your sister as much as I'm Turo's nanny." Serra's words slice through my lie with surgical precision.
The pieces click together in my mind – Turo's human features despite his Minotaur heritage, Serra's assertive nature in front of the boy's father, the way he lets her do whatever she wants. The same nose, the same laugh.
"You're his mother."
"And you're observant... when you want to be." Serra stands, her chair scraping against the wooden floor. "Go find her and apologize so she can get some proper sleep."
I simply nod, turning for the door.
My boots crunch against the fallen leaves as I make my way down the narrow trail. The full moon bathes everything in silver light, reminding me of Lirien's hair. A gentle breeze carries the scent of water through the trees, and within minutes, I spot the lake's surface rippling under the stars.
Lirien's pale shoulders break the lake's dark surface, her silver hair gleaming under the moonlight. My mouth goes dry at the realization she's bathing. The water ripples around her bare skin, and I force my gaze upward, focusing on the back of her head.
"I should have known better before all of this." Her voice cuts through the night air, sharp as a blade. "You Dark Elves are never satisfied, using and discarding human women like toys. I don't know why I thought one would be different from the rest."
The accusation stings more than it should. "I've never used you, Lirien."
Water laps against the shore. Crickets chirp in the darkness. She doesn't respond, doesn't even acknowledge my words.
"Come back to the house." The words come out gruffer than intended. "You need sleep."
More silence. The bond between us pulses with a cold emptiness that makes my chest ache. The water continues its gentle rhythm against the shore, and somewhere in the distance, an owl calls out into the night.
Her continued silence weighs on me, heavy as armor. The moonlight catches the droplets on her shoulders, making them shimmer like scattered stars.
I let out a deep sigh and drop my sword onto the bank. The water laps at my feet as I wade in, my trousers growing heavy with each step. The moonlight catches the ripples spreading out from where I disturb the surface, creating dancing patterns across Lirien's bare shoulders.
She wraps her arms around herself, hunching forward. "Don't come any closer. I wouldn't want to offend your refined tastes with my unremarkable body."
The words slash into my skin. Shame burns in my chest, mixing with disgust at my earlier behavior. "I never should have said that."
"But you did. You've made your feelings very clear." The water splashes softly as she shifts away from me.
"No, I haven't." My voice comes out rougher than intended. Our connection is carrying waves of hurt that make my temples throb. "But I will now. Serra is Turo's mother. I have no interest in her."
She lets out a bitter laugh. "Too scared to fight off a minotaur to have your way?"
"By the Thirteen," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "I wasn't interested in Serra. I was being an ass because..." The words stick in my throat like thorns. "Because I wanted to see you react."
The water ripples as Lirien shifts away from me. The moonlight catches the droplets running down her back, and I force my gaze up to the stars.
"I shouldn't have done that." The words taste bitter, foreign on my tongue. In over a century, I've rarely apologized to anyone. "I'm... sorry."
She doesn't respond. The crickets chirp louder, filling the silence between us.
I reach for her shoulder, but she jerks away, water splashing between us. "Don't."
"Look at me, at least?"
"Why? So you can mock my unremarkable features again?"
I clench my jaw.
"I've never felt like that. Like this. In all my years..." Her voice trails off, barely a whisper above the gentle lapping of water.
The vulnerability in her tone makes something twist inside me. The bond thrums with an emotion I can't – or won't – name.
"What do I have to do to make it up to you?" I ask, hating how desperate I sound. "Please, just come back in and sleep."
The moonlight casts silver ribbons across the water as Lirien shakes her head, refusing to look at me. My chest tightens at her silence. Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us, my hands finding her arms beneath the water's surface. She stiffens against me as I pull her back against my chest, but I don't let go.
Her pulse races beneath my fingers, matching the frantic rhythm of the bond between us. Water drips down her silver strands, catching starlight.
"Darak—" she starts.
"Don't say anything." My voice comes out rougher than intended, raw with something I can't name.
Cupping lake water in my hands, I let it cascade over her hair, watching rivulets trace paths down her neck. My fingers follow, brushing aside wet strands to expose pale skin. The connection between us throbs with each touch, sending sparks through my veins.
Her breath catches as I lean down, my lips grazing the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. My hands slide around her waist beneath the water, pulling her closer. The bond thrums between us, heavy with unspoken words.
"Darak..." Her voice trembles, barely a whisper above the gentle lapping of water against our bodies. "What are you doing?"
I trace down her spine beneath the water. "Apologizing."
"Bullshit," Lirien snaps, but her voice catches, betraying her.
I spin her around to face me, water splashing between us. Her bare skin presses against my body, and desire floods through me like wildfire. Our shared heat begins making my head swim.
My mouth opens, but words fail me. The moonlight catches in her eyes, turning them to liquid silver. Droplets trace paths down her throat, and I follow their descent to where they disappear between us. The press of her breasts against my chest sends sparks through every nerve ending.
Fuck, she's sexy. The thought hits me like a physical blow. Not beautiful in the traditional dark elf way – all sharp angles and cold perfection – but something rawer, more dangerous. Real.
The bond thrums between us, heavy with unspoken desires. Her hands rest against my chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer. Just... waiting.
"What are you thinking?" she whispers, her breath warm against my collarbone.
I want to kiss her. I want to take her right here.
"Nothing," I snap, breaking the spell.
"Turn around," Lirien commands, her voice brittle as frost.
I face the trees, my wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin. Water drips down my arm, and the night breeze sends a chill through me. Behind me, I hear the soft splash of water as she moves, followed by the rustle of fabric. I can feel her lingering anger, making my temples throb.
Footsteps pad across the grass, moving away from me. When I turn, I catch only a glimpse of her retreating form, robes wrapped tightly around her body like armor.
"Damn it all," I mutter, following her path back to the cottage.
My soaked trousers leave dark spots on the wooden floor as I trudge after her. Inside the bedroom, Lirien has already curled into a tight ball on the bed, her silver hair spilling across the pillow. Even in the dim light, I can see her shoulders trembling.
I grab the blanket from my makeshift bed on the floor, shaking out the wrinkles before draping it over her shivering form. She immediately tries to throw it off.
"Stop that," I snap, then catch myself. The word "please" slips from my lips, softer than I intended.
In a moment of mercy, Lirien doesn't argue, letting the blanket settle over her trembling form. The lingering hurt is still there, but the sharp edge of anger has dulled.
I stretch out on the floor, punching the thin pillow into submission before laying my head down. The wooden floorboards press against my back, and my damp clothes cling uncomfortably to my skin. Every breath Lirien takes echoes in the quiet room, reminding me of how she looked in the lake – moonlight painting her skin silver, water droplets trailing down the gentle curve of her spine.
"Do you really think I'm ugly?"
Her whispered question catches me off guard. The memory of her in the lake floods back – pale skin glowing under the moon, silver hair darkened by water clinging to the nape of her neck. The soft swell of her breasts barely visible above the water's surface, the curve of her waist disappearing beneath the ripples. Nothing like Serra's willowy height, but perfectly proportioned. Dangerous thoughts for a warrior.
"No," I say finally, my voice rougher than intended. "I don't think you're ugly."