Chapter 14
Nansar
I sat hunched over the small wooden table, my clawed fingers tracing invisible patterns across its worn surface as I tried to map out the village from memory. Every turn, every sound—I catalogued it all, searching for weaknesses, for opportunities.
Behind me on the sleeping platform, Chloe's breathing was soft and even, finally peaceful. I'd watched her collapse into sleep hours ago, her body simply giving out from exhaustion. Good. She needed rest. We both did, but my mind refused to quiet, spinning with plans and possibilities—and her.
Always her.
My horns itched fiercely, a maddening sensation that crawled beneath the bone and made me want to scrape them against the walls.
The mating drive. Every instinct screamed at me to go to her, to claim her, to make her mine in every way that mattered.
To wake her with kisses and hear her gasp my name.
But I wouldn't. I couldn't.
Not like this. Not when she was vulnerable, not when we were trapped and she might feel obligated. When I finally had her—if I had her—it would be because she wanted me with the same desperate hunger that was currently tearing me apart from the inside.
My jaw clenched as I forced myself to focus on the crude map I sketched in my mind. The hut itself would be easy to breach, but the village was another matter. Guards passed by every hour or so—there had to be a pattern, a gap, something I could exploit.
Anything to keep my mind off the way Chloe had looked at me earlier. The trust in her eyes, shining like starlight. The way she'd pressed close to me in her sleep, seeking my warmth, my protection.
And that kiss.
Goddess help me, that kiss.
My fingers stilled on the table as the memory washed over me again, as vivid as if her lips were still pressed to mine.
The softness of her mouth, the little gasp she'd made when I'd pulled her close, the way her body had melted against mine like she was made to fit there.
I'd meant it to be brief, a simple reassurance, but the moment our mouths met, something had cracked open inside me—something raw and primal and terrifyingly tender.
I had a human mother, so unlike many of my kind, I grew up knowing that particular gesture of affection. I'd kissed females before—quick, meaningless encounters that satisfied a physical urge and nothing more. Pleasant enough, but forgettable.
But kissing Chloe had been like tasting starlight, like discovering a sense I didn't know I possessed.
Like coming home to a place I'd never been.
The way she'd melted against me, her small hands clutching at my shoulders as if I were the only solid thing in her world—it had taken every shred of willpower I possessed to pull away.
Even now, hours later, I could still feel the phantom pressure of her lips against mine. Could still taste her sweetness, like honey and hope. My body ached with the need to go to her, to wake her with kisses, to explore every inch of her until she cried out my name in pleasure.
But more than the physical desire—and it was considerable, a constant throb of want that made my blood run hot—was the way that kiss had made me feel.
Needed. Worthy. Like I was finally something more than just a prisoner, more than just the monster everyone saw when they looked at my past. When Chloe looked at me, she saw someone worth saving. Someone worth trusting.
Someone worth loving?
I dragged a hand down my face, groaning softly.
What was wrong with me? I'd never felt this way before.
It went beyond physical want, beyond the mating drive that made my horns itch and my skin feel too tight.
This was something deeper, something that terrified me more than any Welati's blade ever could.
Because if I let myself fall for her—truly fall—and she left...
I couldn't think about that. Wouldn't.
There had to be another way out of here. Because if we stayed trapped in this room much longer, with the elder pressuring us and my control fraying at the edges like worn rope...
I didn't know how much longer I could resist.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.
Every muscle in my body coiled tight as I moved instinctively closer to where Chloe slept, positioning myself between her and whatever threat might enter.
But the scent that drifted through the crack in the door was female—Welati, yes, but carrying none of the aggression I'd come to associate with the warriors.
The door creaked open to reveal a young Welati woman, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor as she carried a tray laden with food.
Steam curled invitingly from bowls of what looked like grain porridge, and strips of dried meat were arranged beside fresh bread.
She set the tray on the table with trembling hands, her movements quick and nervous, as if she feared I might lunge at her at any moment.
Before I could even offer a word of thanks, she scurried back out.
The click of the lock echoed loudly in the morning quiet.
Behind me, Chloe stirred. The rustle of furs whispered through the room, followed by a soft, sleepy groan that did absolutely nothing to help my already tenuous control.
Outside our prison, the village was waking—voices calling to one another in their harsh tongue, the clatter of tools being gathered for the day's work, the bleating of livestock.
Morning had arrived whether we were ready for it or not.
"Nansar?" Her voice was thick with sleep, adorably groggy in a way that made my heart clench.
I turned to find her sitting up among the furs, her hair a wild halo of tangles around her face, her eyes still heavy-lidded and unfocused.
Beautiful. So incredibly beautiful it hurt to look at her.
Something in my chest tightened painfully at the sight—an intense protectiveness mingling with desire so intense it threatened to consume me whole.
"Morning," I managed, my voice raspy. I cleared my throat. "They brought food."
She blinked slowly, like a creature waking from a nap, then pushed herself up from the sleeping platform. I tried—gods, I tried—not to watch the way her borrowed dress shifted as she moved, tried not to notice how it had ridden up during the night to expose the smooth, pale skin of her thighs.
I failed. Spectacularly.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I forced myself to look away, to focus on anything other than the overwhelming urge to cross the room and pull her back into those furs with me.
Chloe padded over to the table on bare feet, still rubbing sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand.
She settled onto the bench across from me with a soft sigh, reaching for one of the bowls.
Only when she went to pull it closer did she pause, her fingers tracing over the surface of the wood with a frown.
"What's this?" she asked, studying the scratches I'd carved into the table's surface throughout the long, sleepless night.
"A map. Or an attempt at one, anyway." I gestured to the crude lines and symbols, suddenly self-conscious about how rudimentary they looked. "I've been trying to draw the layout of the village. Where the guards patrol, how many buildings there are, possible escape routes."
She leaned closer, her brow furrowing in concentration as she studied my work. The movement brought her scent to me—warm and sweet, with that underlying note that made my cock throb. My horns ached with the need to mark her, to make that scent mine in truth.
"Without a window, that must be incredibly difficult," she murmured.
"Nearly impossible," I admitted, frustration bleeding into my tone.
"I can hear them moving around outside, track their footsteps and voices, but I can't see the layout.
I don't know which direction leads where, how far we are from the village edge, whether there are walls or just scattered dwellings.
" I dragged a hand through my hair. "I'm working blind. "
Chloe was quiet for a moment, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she thought.
Then her eyes lit up with sudden understanding, and she reached across the table, her finger hovering over my scratches.
"We came in from the east, I think. There was a main path, wider than the others.
And buildings on either side—maybe ten or twelve of them that I could see. "
Hope sparked in my chest, bright and burning. "What else? Any landmarks? Guard posts?"
"There was a larger structure near the center—not the longhouse we were taken to yesterday, another one.
It looked older, more permanent. Storage, maybe?
" She closed her eyes, clearly trying to visualize the path.
"And there were torches posted at regular intervals along the main path.
Eight that I counted, but there might have been more. "
I leaned forward, my mind racing as I began to add to the crude map. "Which side was the longhouse on? Left or right?"
"Left, I think. And—"
The door burst open.
We both jumped, Chloe's hand flying to her chest as the Elder swept in like a storm cloud, her expression unreadable. But it wasn't her presence that turned my blood to lava.
It was the two warriors who followed in her wake.
Both were massive, even by Welati standards, their bodies a canvas of scars that told stories of violence and victory.
The first had a jagged mark slashing from temple to jaw, the eye on that side milky white and sightless.
His good eye—dark and predatory—slid over Chloe with an interest that made something feral rise in my chest, hot and possessive.
The second wore a lanyard of bones around his thick neck.
Finger bones, I realized with revulsion, strung together like trophies.
They clicked with each breath, each movement, a macabre display of death.
When his lips pulled back in what might have been a smile, I saw teeth filed to vicious points.