Conquer (The Elfin #4)

Prologue

“I don’t take rejection well.” ~ Rezer

Rezer stood across the street from Enigma, half-shrouded by the dim glow of the shop's lit-up sign. Through the wide front window, Lisa moved in her nightly rhythm, wiping the counter, adjusting the crystals, humming a tune he didn’t know but found himself waiting for.

She did it every evening. Always the same. Predictable, comforting, maddening.

He’d watched her for six months. Long enough for the habit to feel like need.

Six months since Lorsan’s fall. Six months since Triktapic had reclaimed the Book of the Elves and the throne. Six months since Rezer had begun writing her.

The last card, his final attempt to draw her out, still echoed in his mind, the words simple but weighted:

You stood me up, Sunshine. I don’t take rejection well.

He smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it.

The truth was, he didn’t know why he cared whether she answered or not.

There had always been something missing inside him, something hollow.

For centuries, that emptiness had just existed, quiet, constant.

But since the first time he’d seen Lisa Scott, it had begun to stir.

Not fade, not heal—just move, like it recognized something in her that it wanted.

Maybe it wasn’t her light that called to him. Maybe it was the way she carried it, steady, human, and without arrogance. There was strength in that kind of gentleness.

And maybe that was what drew him, what kept him coming back. Lisa was not like other humans. She couldn’t be. She’d held the love of a dark elf once, and from what Rezer had heard, that had been no small feat. Dark elves didn’t love easily, or selflessly. But she had inspired both.

He stepped off the curb, crossing the empty street until he stood just outside the window. The shop’s light spilled over him, soft and golden, brushing across his skin. For a heartbeat, he thought he felt something inside himself react—a pulse, a flicker, a spark in the hollow, but he ignored it.

Inside, Lisa locked the door and turned the sign to Closed. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and his breath caught. He didn’t know why that simple gesture could unmake him.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice barely above the hum of the streetlight. It wasn’t a threat, not exactly. More like a promise to himself.

Tomorrow, she would see him.

And nothing, not her fear, not her human world, would stop him.

Lisa flipped the lock on the front door and exhaled. The soft click was always her favorite sound at the end of a long day–simple, final, safe. The bell above the door stilled, and the shop settled into its evening hush.

The faint scent of sage and lavender hung in the air.

She liked it that way—peaceful, familiar, a kind of quiet that reminded her she’d survived worse things than an empty store.

She moved through her closing routine automatically: extinguish candles, realign crystals, wipe down the counter, tidy the display. There was comfort in the repetition.

Her gaze drifted to the small wooden box beside the register.

Inside lay six cards, each written in a hand she knew too well.

Rezer’s handwriting was sharp and deliberate.

Every word was intentional. She shouldn’t have kept them, but throwing them away had felt wrong, disrespectful somehow.

So she kept them hidden, like confessions she couldn’t speak.

Lisa lifted the most recent one. Her thumb brushed over the edge, tracing the single line that had unsettled her more than she cared to admit:

You stood me up, Sunshine. I don’t take rejection well.

She stared at the words until they blurred. Something about the message—the mixture of irritation and restraint, tugged at her. Rezer wasn’t just different. He was . . . dangerous. A puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

“Don’t take rejection well,” she muttered, setting the card back down. “Too bad, so sad, elf boy.”

A dry laugh escaped her. Syndra would tease her for keeping the notes but in the same breath tell her she was inviting trouble.

Tony . . . well, Tony didn’t need to know.

Ever. Lisa understood things they couldn’t.

She’d lived among elves as a human. She’d loved one.

A dark elf, rare enough to fight his own nature for her.

Loving him had been both miracle and heartbreak, and sometimes she still felt the echo of that loss in her bones.

And still . . . Rezer wasn’t her past and she didn’t think he was her future. Whatever this was, it wasn’t the beginning of some great love story. It was curiosity tangled with danger, light brushing against something that it shouldn’t want.

Lisa placed the card back in the box and closed the lid. She turned off the last light, leaving only the moon spilling through the front window. For a moment, she thought she saw movement outside—a shift in shadow that made her heartbeat quicken, but when she looked again, there was nothing.

“Time to stop watching the crime documentaries,” she whispered, reaching for her keys.

Outside, the street was quiet. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching her.

Or the fact that until Rezer showed up, she’d feel like she was holding her breath.

The wind slipped through the trees outside Rezer’s home, whispering through the open window like it held a secret.

He’d chosen this place because it was quiet, far from the palace, far from anyone who might remind him of what he used to be.

The house itself was carved into the side of a hill, half stone, half living wood.

Lantern light pooled low across the room, soft and golden, but it couldn’t quite chase away the edges of darkness that clung to him.

He sat on the edge of his bed, fingers tracing the pattern in the woodgrain beside him.

His reflection in the mirror across the room looked like someone else, someone tired.

The sharp, careless arrogance that had once carried him through centuries had dulled, replaced by something he didn’t recognize.

Could have been peace, if he didn’t feel so hollow.

It had been just shy of five months since he’d left the casino in the human realm, handed the keys to one of Trik’s lieutenants, and disappeared back into the forest. The decision had seemed simple then—no more noise, no more chaos.

But peace came with too much quiet, and quiet left too much room for thoughts he didn’t want.

And lately, the dreams.

He’d started having them the first month after leaving the casino, fragments at first—shadows moving through fog, voices that spoke in a language older than his memory.

Sometimes he woke with their words still echoing in his head, though he could never remember them clearly.

Just the feeling of them, familiar and cold.

At first, he thought they were just ghosts of his past. But the more often he crossed into the human realm to see her, the stronger they became.

The dreams sharpened, shapes turning into faces, whispers turning into pleas.

Each time, he woke drenched in sweat, his magic slow to respond, as though something had been siphoned away in his sleep.

Tonight would be no different. He could feel it already, the low thrum beneath his skin, that strange pull just under his ribs. It was like the forest itself was breathing through him, and he didn’t know whether it was trying to warn him or claim him.

He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

The image of Lisa lingered. The curve of her smile, the stubborn spark in her gaze, the warmth that had no business belonging near someone like him, who lived surrounded by shadows.

He told himself he wouldn’t think of her tonight.

That he needed rest. That tomorrow he’d stay in the realm, away from her light.

But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. The same emptiness that haunted his dreams reached for her light like a starving thing.

The lantern flickered once, twice, then steadied. Rezer exhaled, long and slow, and let the darkness take him. Sleep came quickly. And with it, the voices. This time, they didn’t whisper. They called his name.