Sylar
Chapter three
Time seems to stretch. I freeze, my breath catching in my chest as the sheer, undeniable recognition of his voice sends a sudden, treacherous warmth straight to my core. The air between us instantly grows thick, humming with a heavy, magnetic weight before I can even see his face.
That voice.
That beautiful, thundering rumble brings back a memory.
Over the years, I kept tabs on Raylen. Either through the gossip rags, brief encounters, or from stories from Isolde.
Three years after Raylen left for his apprenticeship, I started tutoring his sister.
There were rumors that Raylen came to visit his family often, but I made it my purpose to avoid the elf I could never get off my mind.
After one of our first tutoring sessions, about seven years ago, I swear something in the air shifted around me.
While Isolde took her time packing away her notebooks, the quiet rustle of parchment filling the space between us, I reluctantly excused myself.
Stepping into the library’s cozy back office, I began gathering my things, my mind still entirely occupied by memories of her brother.
As I stepped out of the office, the sound of an unfamiliar voice made me pause.
Someone was speaking to Isolde, his tone a deep, rumbling cadence that sounded like thunder rolling over distant hills.
It was beautiful, hypnotic, and utterly carnal.
A sound that seemed to hum with a life of its own.
When he laughed, it was rich and dark, and made my breath hitch.
I felt a hot prickle of shame at how instantly and completely that single sound had captivated me.
By then, I’d already assumed I was attracted to males, had even experimented with a few, but I swear, that voice alone could never compete with anyone’s physical appearance.
Within moments, I was captivated by the sound.
I was eager to find out who this elf was that had me turned on by the mere sound of his voice.
Luckily, as I turned the corner, Isold threw her arms around the mysterious elf. Only he wasn’t a stranger. It was Raylen. Raylen Thalorian, no longer a boy, but a beautiful man all grown up.
While I sit there, mouth agape, struck speechless, much like I am at this moment, his words echo through my mind and all around me.
“Who are you?” I ask, irritated that my body already knows, but even so, as soon as he pulls back his hood and it falls around his lush, lilac hair, I’m struck speechless once again.
“Hey, Sy. Did you miss me?” The smoky cadence of his words, the vowels curving lazily in the air between us, completely hypnotizes me.
Dear Goddess, I am not prepared for the impact of that voice.
I always assumed I would never fall ill to something as petty as attraction.
All those meaningless hookups and experimentation as a young adult did practically nothing to my body, but as I stare at the beautiful elf in front of me, I know that I have been completely wrong.
I can feel attraction. Apparently, it just needs to be with this particular elf.
My eyes trace the line of his throat, completely captivated by his sun-kissed, glowing skin.
I catalog every detail as my gaze drinks him in.
From the glint of multiple gold earrings adorning the sharp tips of his pointed ears to the light summer cloak draped over his broad shoulders.
The blue fabric shimmers like running water, rippling with a cooling enchantment that makes me ache to step closer and feel the chill of his skin against my own.
I find myself hopelessly reacting to his appearance, my pulse quickening at the sight of him standing there. No one, absolutely no one, has ever been able to make my blood run hot like this. Raylen is utterly devastating, and he’s here, like some apparition or dream.
“It’s really you,” I whisper.
He takes a few steps forward, and that sweet smile tilts into a cocky grin, causing my eyes to linger on his lips. “You came,” he whispers back.
Despite the confident stare, I swear there’s something in his gaze, something meaningful behind his words. Was he waiting for me to show up? I shake my head, trying to dissolve my thoughts.
“Thank you for saving me back there.”
The spell between us dissipates. Raylen gives a gentle nod and steps away, retreating just enough to give me my own space until the tightness in my chest untangles and I can finally breathe again.
Above our heads, a cute little foxly drifts through the air, completely content to hover like a soft, calming spirit.
Giant, cotton-white clouds lazily track across the endless blue sky, and the sun acts like a brilliant celestial heart, pulsing rich, midsummer light down through the trees to caress my face.
As my mind calms and I take in my surroundings, the faint sounds of music and laughter from the Everend Market behind us come into focus.
Raylen joins me on the bench but doesn’t say anything.
When my breathing is finally under control, I peer over at Raylen again.
He has a small, almost patient smile on his face.
It isn’t cocky or playful. It’s just…kind.
He isn’t staring at me; rather, he’s giving me as much privacy as one can give while still sitting right next to them.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. Goddess, what must he think of me?
“I need to go for a walk.” I stand abruptly, expecting him to be glad he doesn’t have to help me anymore, but he slowly gets to his feet, dusts some imaginary dirt off the back of his trousers, and tugs his hood back into place before joining me.
Walking immediately after a panic attack always helps me relax my muscles.
I used to get panic attacks a lot when I was younger, and I know everyone reacts differently, but I found some of the best techniques that help me.
I take a few steps toward the market when, to my surprise, Raylen’s fingers wrap around my left arm, and he lightly guides me in the opposite direction.
“No, we’ll go this way. Let’s stick to the outskirts of the market for a bit. It will give us time away from the crowds.” His voice is still that sexy rumble, but I’ve never heard it quite like this. It’s calm like a slow summer storm. “Let Cinder guide us; she knows the way.”
Some of the tension leaves my body when I register his words. Raylen points to the path ahead. The cute orange foxly is leading the way, wings still flapping lazily. I can’t help but whip my gaze back towards Raylen. “She’s yours?” I ask, astonished.
A foxly companion is very rare. The little magical monsters seldom show themselves in public. The fact that Raylen commands the loyalty and bond of such a magical creature speaks volumes about his true nature. It is a quiet proof of a good heart, one that the cosmos itself recognizes.
“She is. Or hell, maybe I’m hers.” His face softens. “Cinder is great at sensing my energy or reading my mind. She will guide us in a direction that will give you time to settle your nerves without prying eyes.”
I blink. Is Raylen Thalorian of Moonscliffe taking care of me?
We walk at a slow, leisurely pace for about thirty minutes or so, Raylen’s arm a grounding presence. He doesn’t ask me a bunch of questions, doesn’t speak, doesn’t rush me. He just leaves me to my thoughts, allowing me to push all the anxiety away.
When we turn back toward the market, I finally speak. “How did you know to do that?” I ask. “How did you know I needed saving?”
Before he can answer, my stomach takes that moment to growl. Loudly.
He chuckles, eyes sparkling. “Come on. I know the perfect place. I used to get hungry after a panic attack, too, and trust me, these will hit the spot.” He holds up his hand. “Actually, pause that thought. I’ll be right back. Cinder, love, come keep Sylar company.”
My own lips tip into a smile as Cinder yips joyfully before joining me on the ground.
She brushes her whole body against me, reminding me of a large cat.
I sit in the soft grass, surprised that I’m actually listening to Raylen’s request. His words replay in my mind as my fingers slide across Cinder’s fur.
What did he mean he used to get hungry after a panic attack?
Raylen was always the most confident elf I’ve ever met.
He thrives in crowds and performs in large archery competitions, for shit’s sake.
Did he mean it, or was he just trying to make me feel better?
Settling into the grass, I ball up my heavy cloak into a makeshift pillow, and Cinder curls up against me, and my eyes drift closed.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, there is a shadow falling over me. Blinking my eyes open, I peer up at lilac hair and sparkling lilac eyes rimmed with kohl. I sit up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I guess my body needed it.”
“It’s okay,” he says, holding a hand out to me. “I didn’t expect the line to be that long already.”
“Line?”
In answer, Raylen hands me a striking satchel made of a royal blue textile so deep and luminous it looks like a swatch cut straight from the night sky. The color is my favorite shade of blue.
Did he remember?
“What is this?”
He laughs. “It’s for you. Open it.”
I gasp when my fingers caress the cool, silky material. I tug it free. “A cloak,” I breathe. Not only that, but it’s a light cloak with a cooling charm on it. It is beautiful, and entirely too thoughtful for a rogue archer.
Raylen gathers my balled-up winter cloak from the ground and shakes it out before neatly placing it into my new satchel. I wrap the royal blue material around my shoulders, instantly feeling the chilling relief from the cooling charm. “This is too much.”
He steps forward and places the hood over my head. “This way we can just enjoy the market as ourselves.”
A wave of gratification rushes through me, easing the ache in my chest. “Thank you, Raylen.”
“Anytime. Now, let’s go settle that growling tummy of yours.”