Chapter 8 #2
Sitting by the fire after a day spent playing in the woods, Raiden felt exhausted in the best way.
Dull pain radiated in constant waves not only from his side but from his arm and shoulder as well.
He could tell without looking that all three major injuries were inflamed from too much activity.
Even so, his heart hummed with contentedness as the flames flickered and sparked around them.
Using magic all day had completely zapped the reserves of energy he’d been building during his recovery, making him shaky and unstable. It was worth it though. He’d been graced with a number of Daya’s rare smiles and had strengthened his magic.
The shadows cast by the fire glittered under his magic sight in a way that finally felt normal and didn’t make him twitchy with nerves.
Once he’d gotten used to the constant glimmer in his peripheral vision, he realized it was actually easier to treat it as an extra sense instead of a tool to be used.
Daya sat to his side, struggling to tame her waist-length hair. It had become a tangled mess during the day, and she’d taken it out to try to re-braid it.
“Why don’t you let me help you?” he asked.
Sighing, she gave in and moved to sit between his legs. “Thank you.”
“It’s only fair. You got to play with my hair when we first arrived.”
She chuckled. “That’s true. Do you miss it?”
“Not really, no. Though I did enjoy the feel of your fingers running through it.” His voice deepened as he did the same to her. The memory of her touch warmed him as he delved through the silky strands.
He pressed into her scalp and down her neck, massaging her with firm strokes. An abruptly cut off moan sent heat curling to the base of his spine. Trying to behave himself, he imagined rubbing the stress and tension out of her with each pass until he felt her muscles melt beneath his fingers.
“Raiden, you’re supposed to be braiding my hair.” Her voice held a half-hearted protest as she rocked with the movement of his hands.
“I’m getting there. Just breathe, anaiah.”
Changing the rhythm of the massage, he began to play with strands of hair, letting them flow through his fingers like a waterfall.
His mind flashed with images of a different kind.
Not of distant memories but of new desires.
Daya’s hair falling around him as she leaned over him, caressing his bare skin with whispers of promise.
Fighting his own groan, he pushed the tantalizing images back, deciding he’d better actually braid her hair before he started something she wasn’t ready for. Kavesh, how he wanted to, though.
“Have you always worn your hair long?” He focused on pulling the strands tight to her head as he began weaving her hair.
“Since I was a little girl. I loved it long and refused to cut it. I was out in the woods with my father most days though, so braiding it was functional more than stylish.”
“Was he a hunter too?”
“Yes. He taught me so much. I never wanted to be anything else.”
“Mmm. Are those his musical instruments in your chest at home?”
A beat of silence stretched before she responded. “It took years after he died before I could take them out at all. I rarely use them, even now.”
“How long has it been since he passed?” he asked gently.
“A very, very long time.”
Finishing the braid, he tied it off with a tiny strip of leather.
Reticent to let her go, he propped his chin on her shoulder and embraced her loosely from behind.
His hands settled lightly on the outsides of her legs.
Instead of pulling away from the contact, she tilted her head to make room for him.
Her arms weaved through his until their fingers twined together, silently asking him to stay.
“I bet he’d like it if you played them more,” he murmured.
“Probably.” Sadness marred her tone.
“I understand. It took years before I was able to use my mother’s sword without feeling a weight in my chest. That blade is heavy in more ways than one.”
Daya pressed her head against his in a sweet gesture of empathy. “The one with the amethyst stone is your mother’s sword?”
“Yes. I think that’s why I got the strongest memory flashes from it early on. There’s a lot of emotion attached to it. Using it regularly… I’ve been able to piece together some things.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, anaiah. I promised you no memories would interfere with our time today.”
“You can’t help when they come.”
“I know. But this time is meant for us. Sacred.”
She went so completely still that his spine began to itch with a familiar nervousness.
It was on the tip of his tongue to question her about her thoughts, but he buried the instinct.
He’d meant the words, and his promise to her the night before.
Giving her a quick squeeze, he let her go and rose, biting back a grunt of pain as he got to his feet.
“Dance with me.”
He pulled her up to her feet and led her to the other side of the fire where there was more space. Settling her back in his embrace, he began to sway with her.
“Raiden.”
“Daya.” He matched her deep tone and met the resistance in her eyes head-on until she quit fighting and flowed into his arms. Dipping his head close to hers, he pitched his voice to a gentle tease. “Don’t worry, it’s easy. Like a hug, but with movement.”
Exasperation escaped her in a scoff.
“I said hug, not kiss, anaiah. You’re safe. Although…”
Shaking her head, she laughed and finally relaxed enough to fall into sync with him as he moved her in slow circles.
“What am I going to do with you?” Her affectionate tone tripped his heart.
What indeed?
Looking into her eyes, he felt his stomach tighten. He bent his head close to hers, until their breath mingled in the air and their hearts beat in pace to a desperate, heart-wrenching song.
“I have some ideas,” he murmured.
“We can’t.”
“We can.”
The regret and yearning pouring off her was emphasized with a slight shake of her head. He heard her unspoken words without trouble. Your memories aren’t back. It’s too big of a risk.
Holding her close, he pressed his nose to her hair and breathed her in.
A spark of magic unfurled in his soul, seeking connection with her.
Reining in the instinct was a challenge he hadn’t expected, but he wrestled it down.
The intimacy of that connection had the power to destroy them both.
Her hands curled tighter around his neck and over his heart, giving him a kernel of hope in the darkness.
“Sometimes, the soul knows better than the mind, anaiah.”