12
A week later, the raft was nearly finished.
Picking the right trees and cutting them with two simple daggers had been tough, but finding thick, sturdy lianas that were flexible enough to connect the logs seemed almost impossible.
We found some suitable ones on another islet, and I spent the whole day going back and forth, dragging the lianas behind me while Amlach sanded the wood with a stone and his blade.
Now, I was finishing crafting the second oar.
Amlach was near the shore, where we had built the square raft. He was setting the lid on a basket he had carved from a hollow log and secured to round beams. In it, we would store safe water and food for any storms we might encounter on the return trip.
He was shirtless.
Although he now understood what nudity meant to me, he had refused to work in his clothes under the hot sun. We had argued like two foolish kids. At one point, exasperated, he had taken off his robe, rolled it up, and thrown it at me.
“Maybe this way you’ll finally stop convincing yourself that you don’t like me,” he had snarled.
My eyes had widened in outrage, hissing, “You are a human.” I had thrown his robe back at him with such force that he had stumbled backward. Then, I had marched past him toward the sea to swim and avoid dealing with him any longer.
“You know,” he shouted at my back in a cocky tone, “I may be just a human, but judging by the way you look at me, I’d say you find me much more interesting than your own kind.”
I had jumped into the water without replying to him.
We hadn’t talked about the matter again since then. I had accepted his right to do whatever he wanted with his body, and he acknowledged that I had almost ignored him all day, only looking up from the sand when he got dressed again in the late afternoon.
But in truth, I had lifted my eyes many times.
For days, I had secretly watched him. Admiring. Memorizing.
Asking myself what it was about him that drew me like a magnet.
Just like it was happening right now.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his naked back.
The sun was beating down hard on his head, making the sweat drops look like tiny diamonds on his skin, which was turning increasingly golden. His back muscles tensed under his skin as he finished shaping the logs with a stone, making sure no splinters would hurt us.
I wondered what his skin would taste like. What it would feel like to grip his biceps, now so swollen from working out. What it would be like to run my hands over his strong, hairy arms. Or in the damp hair at the back of his neck.
And before I knew it, I found myself desiring him.
I wanted to feel his breath, now slightly panting, in my ear. Suck it into my mouth. I wanted his tall, powerful body above me, against me, beneath me. I wanted his skilled and confident hands all over me.
I wanted him.
All of him.
And I was aware of how wrong it was.
With his back still turned to me, Amlach sat back on his heels and gazed at the sea for what felt like endless moments. An aura of concern seemed to engulf him little by little, causing my brows to flicker into a frown.
I fought the urge to go to him and find out what had upset him so suddenly, and I concentrated on the oar I was carving.
After a few seconds, Amlach stood up and went to the freshwater mouth to drink and cool off. Then he came to sit beside me and get some rest in the shade.
I tried to hide how his sweat’s smell overwhelmed my senses. I fought with all my strength not to move closer, to ignore my tingling fingers, eager to touch him.
I fought with all my might not to look at him.
“Nauriel.”
I went still, heart in my throat. In three thousand years, I had heard my name spoken by countless voices with many different accents. But never had it sounded so . . . seductive.
On Amlach’s lips, my name felt like an erotic caress, making me shiver deeply and crave to hear it again.
I wanted him to say it against my mouth.
Against my neck.
Against my breast.
Between my legs.
However, I couldn’t help but notice a hint of apprehension in his voice.
He wrung his hands for a few more moments, then exhaled sharply through his nostrils and said, “Your brother is not looking for you.”
Amlach wasn’t stupid. He understood that any elven ship in the Thalion Sea would have already approached the archipelago by now.
“No,” I confirmed gloomily.
I felt his probing gaze fixed on me. “Why?”
I observed the dagger I was holding, admiring its elegant design and outstanding craftsmanship that demonstrated the unmatched skill of my people’s smiths.
“Because instead of running to him, instead of jumping off that tree and swimming back to my land, I stayed to help a human soldier who aimed to invade our home, kill our people, and force us to surrender our Crystal to his king.” My eyes shifted to the turquoise sea. “Because I chose you.”
There was a time when my father would never have held a grudge against me for such a decision. He would have supported me, saying how much I reminded him of his beloved mother, always ready to lend a hand to anyone in need, whether they were elves, humans, or witches.
But he had changed so much since Mornon defeated him, stripping him of his legendary magic spear.
Amlach stayed silent, absorbing the meaning of my angry words. “You can go if you want,” he said finally. “I’ll manage.”
Yes, I didn’t doubt it. However, this past week, the idea of jumping into the water and swimming away never crossed my mind.
Amlach leaned toward me and softly bumped my shoulder with his. “Go kick their ass,” he whispered jokingly.
I didn’t bother to hide a hint of a smile. “I will.” I turned to him and stared at him intensely. “When we get home together.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes.
He was shirtless, very close, and I was looking at him.
I was looking at him and didn’t want to stop.
Still, I forced myself to do it and handed him the oar I was working on. “Stay here in the shade and finish this. I’ll go check if the raft needs any final adjustments.”
Amlach didn’t reply as I got up and headed to the shore. But I felt his burning eyes all over me for the rest of the day.