Chapter 11 #3
The embrace should have been innocent—gratitude, relief, nothing more.
But pressed against him, I became hyperaware of everything.
The solid warmth of his body, the way his chest rose and fell beneath my cheek, the subtle shift of his scales under my palms. When I tilted my head back to thank him, I found his eyes dark and intense, fixed on my face with an expression that made my pulse stutter.
We were close. Far too close. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin and see the way his pupils had dilated, as well as the slight parting of his lips.
His hand at my back pressed just a fraction firmer, and I felt myself leaning into him without conscious thought.
I wanted to kiss him so badly I could literally taste it, like sugar and spice on my tongue.
The moment stretched taut between us, charged with possibility, before the screech of a nearby bird brought reality crashing back. I jerked away so quickly I nearly stumbled, my face burning with mortification.
Diarvet was not immune to the awkwardness that settled between us. Something akin to disappointment flickered across his handsome features, but he recovered quickly, smoothing his expression into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The waterfall is just ahead.”
We walked the rest of the way in near silence, save for errant comments about the landscape or the occasional bird call echoing through the trees.
I teased him about the blossoms Lilibet had woven into his braid, expecting embarrassment, but instead he seemed wildly proud, his chest puffing slightly as his fingers unconsciously touched the flowers.
Seriously, my ovaries felt near bursting.
The path curved sharply to the left, and suddenly we emerged from the canopy into a sun-drenched clearing.
Water cascaded down a sheer rock face at least thirty feet high, catching the afternoon light and throwing it back in a thousand tiny rainbows.
The pool at the base was crystal clear, so transparent that I could see smooth stones scattered across the bottom like scattered coins.
Mist rose from where the water struck, creating a cool, sweet-scented veil that kissed my skin.
“Oh,” I breathed, enamored by the sight. “It’s beautiful.”
Diarvet moved to stand beside me, close enough that I caught his scent—something like cedar, spice, and clean mountain air.
“Yes,” he breathed. There was something in his voice that made me glance at him only to find his eyes on me and not on the water. My skin heated, despite the cooling mist.
Near the shoreline, tall reeds swayed, slender emerald stalks bending and dancing with the breeze. The fuzzy, cattail-like tips that crowned each reed in a vibrant chartreuse unmistakably identified the kompur plant.
I pulled the knife Diarvet had given me from its leather sheath at my belt, the familiar weight of it reassuring in my palm as I knelt in amidst the plants.
The earth here was rich and dark, softened by the constant moisture, and I began the careful work of digging around the base of the reeds.
Diarvet settled beside me, his larger hands making quick work of coaxing the stubborn, gnarled roots from their earthen home.
The rhythmic work was oddly soothing. The soft scrape of metal against soil, the gentle splash of water as we rinsed the dirt from our harvest, the comfortable silence that stretched between us.
It took me a while to work up my courage to break that peace, so long in fact that we’d accumulated enough twisted, purple roots to keep the tribe fed for days.
“Diarvet, can I ask you something?” I finally ventured, sitting back on my heels and watching as he methodically brushed clumps of rich, dark earth from the roots before stowing them in his leather satchel. His eyes met mine, and he nodded slowly, curiosity flickering across his handsome face.
I drew a deep, steadying breath, my heart hammering as I considered my phrasing.
“Ceeka said—well, she didn’t exactly say—but she indicated that there was something more to your ability to shift your scales than just protection.
Something special.” I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, holding my breath and waiting, hoping desperately I hadn’t upset him or crossed some invisible line.
Two kisses, that’s all we were technically.
Only they didn’t feel like they were just kisses.
It felt like so much more. Diarvet had kissed me like he was trying to memorize the sensation.
Like it mattered. Plus, we slept together every night.
Granted, Lilibet was always between us, but even with that innocent chaperone, the air between us crackled with tension.
The lingering glances he gave me, eyes dark and searching.
The way his fingers would brush against mine when he adjusted the blankets, touch lingering just a fraction too long to be accidental.
The heat of his palm when it rested on my shoulder, thumb tracing absent circles that sent shivers down my spine.
Diarvet released a long, heavy sigh, but he didn’t look at me, instead fixing his gaze on the kompur roots scattered at our feet.
“For my people, the ability to shift one’s scales was considered a sacred gift from the goddess, bestowed to help Zarpazians protect those they cared about.
Being able to shift scales strengthens you, makes you nearly invincible.
” A small, rueful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Well, you saw.”
“I did,” I admitted, my voice warm with appreciation and the remembered awe of how he’d saved us. “You were absolutely amazing.”
The scales along his cheekbones deepened from their usual azure to a rich sapphire.
“The queen’s bloodline was from the mountains of Zarpazia, a warrior race that always saw themselves as stronger.
They didn’t believe in waiting for the goddess’s blessing.
” His jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his scaled skin.
“Over generations, through relentless training and sheer force of will, they learned to force-shift their scales.”
His expression shifted to something dark and haunted.
Regret twisted with a deep, simmering anger that made his eyes flash like storm clouds.
“Forcing a shift is... painful. It tears at your very essence, changes who you are from the inside out, leaving one cruel and bloodthirsty.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
“Plus, a forced shift isn’t as powerful as one that is goddess-blessed. ”
“How do you mean?” I murmured, both horrified and curious, my fingers unconsciously tightening around the kompur root in my palm.
“Shifted Zarpazians can take the shape of other beings... animals too.” The disgust on his face intensified, his lips curling as if he’d tasted something bitter and rotten.
His hands stilled completely, knuckles white where they gripped the earth-stained roots.
“But for a Zarpazian who forces the shift, to take the shape of another requires a terrible sacrifice—the life force of the creature being mimicked must be drained, consumed, stolen.”
The horror of it settled over me like ice water.
“What about you?” I asked, my voice barely audible above the waterfall.
Whether his shift was forced or gifted, I knew with absolute certainty that Diarvet would never hurt me.
He would die before causing me or Lilibet harm.
“Did you force your shift to protect me and Lilibet?”
Diarvet fell silent for a long, weighted moment, his fingers tracing the gnarled surface of the kompur root with absent, repetitive motions.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and raw, vulnerable in a way that made my chest ache.
“No. Despite the years of training I endured, despite the countless hours of torture designed to hone my will and force my scales to obey, I was never able to force the shift.”
He laughed then, but the sound was hollow and brittle, devoid of any actual amusement. “Under the queen’s rule, that made me less than worthless. Weaker than those who could shift. A failure of the bloodline.”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” I snapped. The very idea that Diarvet could be considered less made my blood boil. He was everything—brave, gentle, strong, beautiful inside and out.
This time, his smile seemed more genuine, reaching his eyes and softening the harsh lines around them. “I didn’t even realize I’d shifted until Lilibet mentioned my scales.”
“You didn’t realize?” I stared at him in amazement, trying to imagine such power manifesting without conscious thought.
Diarvet’s broad shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug, the movement causing his scales to catch and reflect the sunlight.
“I knew I felt different—stronger—but I thought it was just the rage I felt at what the Wojonik were doing to you and Lilibet. The need to protect you both consumed everything else.”
“You shifted to protect us,” I said softly, laying my hand on his forearm and feeling the subtle tingle of his scales trembling beneath my palm. A shift to protect those he cared about. My blood raced at the thought.
His larger hand settled atop mine, our fingers slowly entwining. “It’s more than that,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“What more?” I met his gaze directly, my breath catching and holding at the raw intensity burning in his eyes.
Diarvet drew in a deep breath that seemed to come from his very soul. “The goddess’s gift of shifting isn’t given simply to help a Zarpazian protect those he cares for.” He drew another deep, ragged breath. “The goddess gives the blessing specifically to help a Zarpazian protect their mate.”
Mate.