Chapter 20 Silvered Mist #2
His chest heaving, his sigils pulsing as ropes of heat shot into her vagina.
‘Sece sarauniyar salkia. You are my everything, my queen.’
They came down in a synchronized rhythm, tethered together in the wreckage of their lovemaking.
‘Uso’m, what does it mean?’ he later rasped into her ear when his heart calmed down long enough for him to speak.
She twisted to face him, their lips brushing as she cupped his face with both hands.
‘It means my honey in Kwavi, which is a mash-up of so many Earth languages, from Swahili to Igbo to even Scottish and Irish. We Dunians are an amalgamation of diverse cultures from the old planet. We are of mixed blood, thus my dark curls and eyes, and so too our common language. Do you like that I used it on you?’
‘Indeed, my love, I can’t argue with it. After all, I am too sweet to handle.’
Over the following days, Idan settled into her apartment.
He inhabited her rooms not as a guest but as her lover; his presence converting her solitary retreat into a shared stronghold.
Sheba discovered a quiet thrill in their mundane rituals.
Mornings found them shoulder to shoulder at the vanity, the whir of electric toothbrushes creating a clashing harmony as they vied for the mirror.
As he shaved, she massaged lotion into her skin, pausing to snag a lingering kiss, laughing as he covered her in shaving cream.
These small beats of normalcy were the lifelines she held onto, the proof she was no longer navigating the world alone.
Meantime, she applied for a series of new job roles, and while waiting for responses, she took Idan on tours of Eden II’s hidden corners.
They explored the Old Quarter’s marketplaces and ancient Paladian temples, as well as the beautiful nature parks under the dome.
They even took a maglev trip to the edge of the city, where the translucent barrier let one see deep into the vast desert of the Eden Maria.
One evening, golden hour arrived with a dense, honeyed brilliance, the sunset staining the sky in streaks of bruised plum and molten copper.
Outside the apartment, the Commons vibrated with the rhythm of the workday’s end.
The distant clatter of the elevated rail merged with the melodic calls of street vendors and the engine-drone of skimmers descending into their docking cradles.
Long, amber rays lanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes and casting elongated shadows across the kitchen’s marble island.
It was a time of transition, where the city’s frantic energy began to yield to the sultry, music-soaked promise of the night.
Idan stood outside on the terrace, leaning against the rail as he scanned the streets below and sipped a glass of whiskey on the rocks.
His back was to the window, his muscled silhouette outlined by the vibrant sunset.
Inside, the kitchen was redolent with the rich aroma of a balsamic glaze Sheba was reducing on the stove.
She was multitasking, pivoting between the bubbling pot and her comm tab, her mind racing through the next day’s job interviews she had lined up.
She must have turned the heat too high because the pasta saucepan bubbled over, and she lunged for it.
The mass of the cast-iron pan, combined with a slick of olive oil on the handle, caused her grip to fail.
The pot tipped, falling towards the edge of the glass cooktop.
Sheba’s breath hitched in a hushed ‘nada,’ as the pan froze mid-drop.
It hovered for a heartbeat, suspended by an unseen force, before drifting back to the burner with a soft, controlled clink.
Sheba stared at the range, then whipped her head to stare through the window, her heart skipping.
Idan hadn’t moved a muscle, but his aura radiated a subtle frequency that shimmered in the twilight.
He didn’t even turn to face her, raising two fingers in a silent ‘you’re welcome’ salute.
‘I had it!’ she called out, though the lie fell thin.
‘You had a date with a repairman, Sheba, perhaps even a medic if that hot water spilled on you,’ he called back, his laughter rich and reverberating, blending with the evening city-song. ‘You’re welcome.’
This was just another example of how always hyper-vigilant he was around her.
He also had a streak of possessiveness that flared when other men were around.
She noticed it first at a crowded market in the Ironspire District.
A male Allorian vendor lingered a second too long on Sheba’s smile while handing her a bundle of herbs, his fingers brushing hers.
The air around Idan didn’t just chill; it turned into a vacuum. He didn’t move, yet the merchant stammered, his eyes darting to the towering, silent figure whose stare was a heated blaze.
Later, when a former colleague, Diego, spotted her near the transit hub and pulled her into a brief, friendly embrace, Sheba sensed Idan’s pulse spike through their neural link.
His cowering energy was so intense that it made her stumble over her greeting.
‘You’re giving brooding-boyfriend aura again,’ she teased as they walked away, bumping her shoulder against his. ‘He was just saying hi, Idan, you can stop clenching your jaw.’
Idan’s hand slid around her waist, as his jaw ticked.
‘I’ll have you know that I’m not insecure, nada,’ he eventually explained, when they got home.
‘It’s the Sacran way. When we claim someone, we don’t accept diluted part-measures.
We’re wired to demand their entire heart; we don’t do halves, and we definitely don’t share.
Our love belongs to us alone, never split, never diverted. ’
He turned her to face him, his eyes boring into her own with a frightening intensity.
‘In exchange, we treasure, adore, and delight in our lovers above all others. We give you all our allegiance, all our devotion. No soul is loved more.’
His thumb traced her lower lip, a slow, deliberate claim. ‘If that devotion is thwarted, we burn with a jealousy or a rage of all-consuming fire.’
Sheba blinked, taking in the archaic solemnity of his words and blatant possessiveness.
Her perspective got rocked, feeling frivolous when compared to the gravity of his immortal, freakin’ possessive heart.
She exhaled, trying to find her footing. ‘Well, I’ve no plans to date anyone else, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘Keep it that way,’ he growled, the sound vibrating against her skin as he pulled her back into his space.
The following night, the couple joined the Rider family for a shared meal to celebrate Kage’s new summer tasting menu at his restaurant.
Idan, at first reluctant to go, gave in when Sheba convinced him it’d be laid-back and relaxed for both of them.
‘Besides, my friends need to get to know you a little more before you get the final sign-off as my man.’
He growled in protest but acquiesced. ‘I don’t need their approval, but if my being present is important to you, then so be it.’
‘Good answer,’ she murmured, beaming at him, as his lips captured hers for a scorching hot kiss.
Hours later, the atmosphere inside Kage Sable’s eponymous restaurant, The BirdKage, was electric.
A chaotic symphony of clinking crystal mingled with the mouthwatering scent of honey-glazed lamb flown in from Dunia and the boisterous laughter of the Riders.
Harlow moved with effortless grace between the kitchen, where her husband reigned, and the massive, horseshoe-shaped booth.
She brought platters of steaming delicacies that disappeared almost as soon as they hit the table.
‘If Zane eats one more of those savory tarts, I’m charging his tab double,’ Kage shouted from the bar.
He flashed a wicked grin as he waved his chef’s knives with theatrical flair.
‘Blame the baby,’ Zane countered, nudging his pregnant wife, Illanna, with his shoulder. ‘She’s the one with the appetite of a wild Xalaxian ox.’
‘Laying fault on an innocent child, Zane, shame on you. Issa, pass the wine you’re hogging,’ Katya joked, leaning over her husband Xion to snag the bottle in question.
Sheba sat tucked into Idan’s side, his massive arm a protective heft across the back of her chair.
She basked in the rare, fierce joy of spending time with her Rider family.
She leaned toward Selene, their shoulders touching, whispering about the sheer absurdity of the men’s appetites, her heart full.
For a moment, their cares seemed a galaxy away.
At some point, the doors to the eatery swung open, and a sinuous, feminine creature floated in.
Her luminosity is what drew Sheba’s eye, and she arched a brow as the beautifully sculpted woman approached.
The newcomer appeared almost doll-like, moving with seductive confidence through the space.
Her hair, silver and swept over one shoulder, gleamed with micro-diamonds. Her dress was a daring slip of midnight silk. It left her entire back bare, pale and shimmering, while the front was deep-cut, defying the laws of both modesty and physics.
Her skin pulsed with a rhythmic radiance, and the ancient sigils etched into her flesh announced her as a Sacran of high blood.
‘Fokk me,’ Idan cursed under his breath.
Sheba shot him a glance. ‘You know her?’ she asked.
‘Wish I didn’t, salkia,’ he gritted. ‘What the hell she’s after is more my worry.’
The creature in question was at that moment sweeping past the Riders’ table.
She slowed and backed up, turning her radiant eyes to the group, honing in on Idan.
‘Well, well, if it isn’t the most handsome mercenary and Commander in all Sacra. Fancy seeing you here.’
The party fell silent.
Idan’s gut roiled, and his hackles went up, his internal sensors spiking to combat-readiness.
Still, he stood and bowed with the ingrained, poetic grace of his people, his utterance a timbred, formal vibration as he greeted her.
‘Princess Artya of the Crystal Firmament, Pale Muse of the Weeping Moon. Radiance of the Third Horizon, Daughter of the Sun-swept Skies. Keeper of the Silvered Mist, and Maiden of the Eternal Echo. It has been an age since we last spoke.’