Chapter 37
Elora
The fire crackled softly, its glow flickering across the trees as the night settled around them.
Elora sat within the draped cloths the Snatcher’s considered passed for a tent, cross-legged on her bedroll, watching the firelight dance.
Her senses, heightened in her partially shifted form, picked up on Rell moving before she even saw him.
He dropped onto the ground beside her with an easy sigh. Placing a dark glass bottle on the dirt in front of him, he eyed her with a smirk that was entirely too mischievous for this late at night.
“Serious question, Sunshine,” he started, turning the bottle slightly between his fingers. “Do you have other cat-like tendencies when you’re like this?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”
Rell shrugged. “Just wondering if you, I don’t know… get the urge to chase things? Climb trees? Knock shit over for no reason?” Rell smirked and nudged the bottle slightly closer to her.
She immediately wanted to knock it over.
Elora scowled, eyes flicking between him and the bottle. She crossed her arms, resisting the urge. Barely. “Are you testing me?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice rich with amusement.
She huffed. “If you mean an overwhelming desire to swat that bottle across the clearing, then yes. I do.”
He chuckled, picking up the bottle and moving it just out of reach. “Noted.”
He leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him. He seemed comfortable, more relaxed than usual. After a moment, he spoke again, this time quieter. “I had a cat growing up.”
Elora tilted her head. He didn’t talk about his past much.
“A scrappy little calico named Mahoki,” he continued. “She was a menace. Clawed up every bit of furniture we had, stole food off the table, but I loved that little bastard.”
Elora let out a small amused huff, watching the flickering flames dance in his dark eyes.
“She only liked me, tolerated my mom. My sister—” He stopped short, jaw tensing slightly. Then, just as quickly, he moved on. “Anyway. Mahoki loved scratches behind her ears. She’d go all limp like she didn’t have a single bone in her body. I have a theory.”
Elora eyed him warily. “A theory?”
Rell smirked. “Can I test it?”
He wants to touch me?
Her first instinct was to refuse. The idea of anyone touching her—especially like that—made something in her stomach twist.
But… it was Rell.
And it was just a theory, right?
Curious despite herself, she exhaled and gave a hesitant nod.
Rell’s touch was careful as he laid his hand at the back of her neck.
The warmth of his palm settled against her skin, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting to see what he would do.
He moved slowly, fingers tracing upward with a feather-light touch, slipping into the tangled mess of her hair.
The second his fingers scratched against her scalp, her whole world shifted.
A strange, consuming warmth flooded through her body, like she’d swallowed liquid sunshine. She blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected sensation.
Oh.
Oh, that felt… really good.
Almost embarrassingly good.
Her mind attempted to keep up with what her body was experiencing, but the slow, delicious pressure of his touch sent tingles down her spine, melting something deep in her muscles that she hadn’t even realized was tense. Everything inside her went soft, dissolving like sugar in hot water.
Her body reacted before she could control it, a reflexive surrender to the feeling. She leaned into his touch.
Rell let out a soft chuckle. “Well, well. Look at that.”
“What?” she asked, though her voice came out more like a low rumbling sound in her chest.
His hand stilled. “Are you…” He leaned in slightly, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered delight. “Are you purring?”
Her eyes snapped open. She was.
She was purring.
Her face burned. Mortified, she stammered, “I—I—”
Rell let out a laugh. A real, full laugh.
She growled at him, fangs bared, but the sound came out more like a petulant grumble than an actual threat.
Rell was grinning like a damn fool, clearly enjoying this way too much. “You are just a big cat, huh?”
Her claws twitched. “Shut up.”
But the problem was…
His hand wasn’t moving anymore.
And she wanted him to keep going.
Her instincts overrode her embarrassment as she leaned into him, nudging her head against his palm. A silent plea.
Rell’s expression flickered, something soft flashing in his eyes. His smirk gentled, and he resumed scratching.
Elora practically melted.
Somewhere, in the very, very back of her mind, she acknowledged how ridiculous this was.
But she didn’t care.
Not when it felt this good.
Rell’s fingers suddenly stilled, and she almost let out a sound of protest before he leaned back, smirking.
“Now, now,” he drawled. “That doesn’t exactly prove my theory, Sunshine.”
Elora blinked, still caught in the haze of lingering pleasure. “What?”
“I am very good with my hands,” he mused, flexing his fingers in front of her. “So, how do we know if it’s just your shift making you enjoy it? You’d have to change back to be sure.”
She stared at him, her brain sluggish in catching up.
Absolutely not.
But then his smirk turned into a challenge. “Unless you’re scared to find out.”
Bastard.
Elora scoffed, shoving down the part of her that was very much scared. “Fine,” she muttered, forcing her body to shift.
Then his fingers found her scalp again, and—gods help her—she almost whimpered.
It was different now. Before, it had been soothing, instinctual, like scratching an itch she didn’t know she had. But this? This was entirely something else.
The way his nails grazed her skin, those slow, excruciating circles he traced.
It sent heat rippling through her body, a slow, agonizing burn spreading from her chest to the wetness blooming between her thighs.
Her toes curled, lips catching between her teeth as she tried not to let the sound of want escape her throat.
Her mind screamed in desperate warning, telling her to pull away, keep distance, keep safe—but her body didn’t care.
Her body was all instinct, craving more, more, more of Rell’s touch.
Her breath came out in rapid bursts, chest rising and falling as she struggled to regain some kind of control.
But it was impossible. Not when he touched her like this.
Not when the last of her defenses crumbled, leaving nothing but the aching, undeniable need for him to keep going.
A sharp, almost painful flare of pleasure coursed through her as she shifted slightly under his touch, involuntary and needy.
Why did it feel so intense? So... dangerous?
Gods, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Especially not like this, not when she’d spent so long trying to keep her guard up, trying not to let anyone get past the walls she’d built so carefully.
But with every touch, every circle he drew on her skin, he shattered those walls like they were made of glass.
His hand slowed, not stopping entirely, but easing into something more deliberate. His other hand—when had it gotten so close?—rested lightly on the edge of her knee.
“Elora,” he said, quietly. “Why are you pressing your palm?”
She hadn’t even realized. Her thumb was digging into the soft center of her palm, right over her pulse.
“Habit,” she mumbled, trying to sound casual. “It keeps me… centered.”
His face twisted slightly, unconvinced.
He wasn’t asking, but she felt the need to explain anyway. “My… father. Tehvan. He wears a ring that allows him to feel my pulse from anywhere. He’s learned how to read my emotions through it, just by subtle rhythm changes.”
“So, you’re attempting to steady your pulse so that he can’t tell what your feeling?”
She nodded.
“Sounds like your father is extremely controlling.” Rell paused his slow circles through her scalp, the absence making her meet his gaze. He looked like she had just told him what Thorn had did to her. Like Tehvan’s way of protecting her was just as bad.
She flinched but didn’t look away. “It’s not like that.”
He waited.
“I mean, sometimes.” Her words came out stiff, like they had to be pulled through a filter of shame. “But only when it… spiked. When it wasn’t what he expected. Fear, anger… lust. That sort of thing.”
“So you learned to hide it.”
Elora nodded once.
“You’re not just hiding your feeling from him. You’re hiding them from yourself.”
That made her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure if it was an accusation or an observation. Maybe both. She drew in a shaky breath.
“I never had the chance to feel anything,” she admitted. “Not really. Not when it came to... this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Desire. Pleasure. Wanting something for myself.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. The firelight danced between them, and it felt suddenly too warm, too intimate.
“When I was younger, I was curious after Arria told me how amazing Alfie made her feel. The sensation of it.” I… experimented. Only once.” Her throat constricted. “Tehvan felt it. And the next morning, he sat me down and gave me a lesson about virtue.”
The silence that followed stretched long. Elora braced for judgment. But Rell only said, softly, “You don’t owe anyone that kind of power over you, Elora.”
His fingers paused, brushing tenderly against her temple as he tucked back a loose strand of hair. There was a gentleness in his touch that matched his words.
She huffed, a short awkward laugh. “Right. Not like my virtue matters now anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Elora’s mouth filled with sand. She hadn’t realized what she said until it spilled out of her mouth. “I…umm…” She searched the fire, the flames dancing toward the sky, somewhere carrying an answer that wouldn’t cause her to crumble in front of him.