Chapter Thirty-One
KAEL
The warmth of the tavern buzzed around me—the low hum of chatter, the crackle of the hearth, the scent of spiced cider and roasted meat. Yet none of it touched me.
My senses were attuned elsewhere.
Drawn inevitably to her.
Elyssara.
Even across the room, laughing and leaning into her companions, she commanded my attention in a way no battlefield or blade ever had.
I told myself it was strategy—necessary.
She was unpredictable, volatile—the wayward point of a sword.
If I didn’t keep my eyes on her, she might slip through my fingers entirely.
But Stars help me, it wasn’t just strategy.
There was something about her I couldn’t define.
I’d known fierce women. Soft women. Cunning women.
None of them had ever sunk under my skin like this.
It wasn’t her sharp tongue or fire, though those drew me like nothing else. It was the way she carried the weight of a world on her shoulders—and refused to let anyone see it. The way she kept her walls up, only to let them slip when she thought no one was watching.
It was maddening.
It was magnetic.
And I couldn’t fucking look away.
“She’s watching you,” Jax murmured, her voice pulling me back to the present.
I didn’t turn my head, but I felt the weight of Elyssara’s gaze even from across the room. “She watches everything,” I replied, my tone deliberately nonchalant.
“She’s watching you,” Jax said again, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “And if looks could kill, I’d already be halfway to the grave.”
I chuckled, low and under my breath. “You’d survive. You always do.”
Jax arched a brow, her gaze sharp despite the teasing lilt in her voice. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Kael.”
“I like dangerous games,” I said, leaning back in my chair and letting my eyes drift briefly to Elyssara. She was tense, her laughter slightly too loud, her glances sharper than they needed to be. She was trying too hard not to look at me.
“Do you?” Jax’s tone shifted, turning softer, almost pitying. “Or are you just trying to lose yourself in something that doesn’t matter?”
I didn’t answer. Jax had always been good at cutting to the bone, at seeing the things I didn’t want anyone to see.
“You know how many people are relying on you, right?” she pressed, her voice dropping low enough that no one else could hear. “Merrik and I included. And whatever this is,” she nodded toward Elyssara, “it’s a distraction you can’t afford.”
Her words were a gut punch, but I kept my expression neutral. “It’s nothing,” I lied.
Jax laughed softly, bitterly. “You don’t look at her like it’s nothing.”
Before I could respond, Merrik appeared, sliding into the seat beside me with a casual grace that belied his age. “What’s this? Jax lecturing you again, Kael?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing.
“Someone has to,” Jax muttered, though her lips twitched upward.
Merrik grinned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Leave the boy alone, Jaxxy. He’s got enough to worry about without you adding to it.”
“Exactly,” Jax said, her sharp gaze cutting back to me. “He’s got enough to worry about. And she’s not helping.”
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to keep my tone even. “I’m perfectly capable of managing my priorities.”
Merrik chuckled, the sound like distant thunder. “Sure you are. Just remember, priorities don’t mean much if you’re dead—or if the rest of us end up buried because you weren’t paying attention.”
“Noted,” I said flatly, though the words twisted in my chest. They were both right, and I hated them for it.
Elyssara rose from the table, her head held high, shoulders squared as though she were walking into a battle rather than to the bar.
Her steps were deliberate, purposeful, every movement carrying a defiance that seemed etched into her bones.
She hadn’t bathed in days, her clothes still marked with the dust and grime of the temple and the journey that followed. But it didn’t matter.
She was beautiful, regardless.
I’d felt desire before, countless times.
I’d bedded more women that I cared to admit purely because I could.
But this wasn’t desire—not just desire. My mind had always been sharp.
Unyielding. Focused. But this pull to her unraveled me—and I hated how powerless it made me feel. Almost as much as I craved it.
There was something raw about her. It wasn’t the polished beauty of court women—their beauty crafted in gilded mirrors and false smiles, with their carefully arranged hair and embroidered gowns.
Elyssara wasn’t just a force of nature—she was the storm itself.
Untamed. Fierce. And breathtaking in a way that didn’t allow for pretense.
Jax’s voice cut into my thoughts, low and laced with warning. “She’s trouble, Kael. And you don’t have the luxury of trouble right now.”
I met her gaze evenly, forcing calm into my voice. “She’s an asset,” I said flatly. “If we’re going to succeed, I need to know I can trust her. That requires observation.”
“Observation?” Jax echoed, her lips quirking into a sardonic smile. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”
I didn’t respond, letting my silence speak for itself.
But inwardly, the lie churned in my gut.
Elyssara wasn’t just an asset, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.
I watched her because she fascinated me.
Because her fire and defiance compelled me.
Because, Stars help me, I didn’t want to look away.
Jax sighed, her sharp edges softening for a fleeting moment. “I’m not saying this to be cruel, Kael. I just... don’t want to see you lose sight of our goals.”
Jax, damn her, was right. Elyssara was trouble I couldn’t afford.
She was a distraction—a dangerous, maddening, irresistible distraction.
And yet, when she reached the bar and leaned against the counter, her hair catching the warm light of the hearth, I felt that pull again.
It was primal, undeniable, and it terrified me.
I forced myself to lean back in my chair, dragging a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to shake off the tension coiling in my chest. Merrik chuckled from beside me, his gaze following mine. “Let her breathe, lad. She’s not going anywhere.”
“She’s going to regret talking to him,” I muttered, my tone sharper than I intended.
“She’s not talking to him to talk to him,” Merrik said, his grin widening. “She’s talking to him to get a rise out of you.”
The bastard wasn’t wrong.
I hated how easily she got under my skin. Hated more that she knew it.
When she turned toward the man at the bar, I felt my patience snap.
It was one thing to let her needle me with her sharp tongue and defiance.
It was another to watch her give someone else that fiery attention, even if I knew it wasn’t genuine.
He was smiling too much, leaning too close.
His gaze lingered in ways that made my blood simmer, and Elyssara. .. she let him.
The air in the room shifted, the hum of the tavern fading beneath the steady thrum of my pulse.
It wasn’t just the way she let him lean too close or the way his smile lingered—it was the flicker of her gaze, daring me, challenging me to act.
Before I could stop myself, I was on my feet, crossing the room in long, deliberate strides.
I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. I just moved.
And when I stopped behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her, my voice was low, a growl edged with something I didn’t want to name.
“You’ve had enough fun for tonight.”
She tensed before she turned to face me, her gaze sharp enough to cut.
I saw the flash of surprise in her eyes, quickly buried beneath a mask of irritation.
Her retort was quick, biting, and full of the fire I’d come to expect from her.
But beneath it, I caught a flicker of something else.
Uncertainty, maybe. Or something deeper.
The man at the bar—fool that he was—decided to speak.
His words were a mistake, his tone dripping with false bravado, and I shifted closer to Elyssara without thinking, my body a wall between her and whatever threat he posed.
I glanced down at her fierce green eyes full of defiance, her slender neck, and her collarbones that promised a path straight to sin and seduction. That’s when I knew I was gone for her.
When she fired back at me, her voice laced with jealousy, it took everything in me not to smile. She could deny it all she wanted, but the way her gaze flicked to Jax, the way her tone sharpened, told me everything I needed to know. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like her.
The man’s laugh grated against my nerves, and I turned to him, my voice colder now. “Her drink’s done.”
The look in his eyes shifted, unease replacing his earlier confidence. He muttered something under his breath before stepping back, his retreat doing nothing to cool the fire simmering in my chest.
I turned back to Elyssara, leaning close enough that my voice was for her ears alone. “I am the only man that will solve the problem of where you are sleeping tonight and any night. Do you understand?”
Her response was defiant, of course. Her clipped tone and furrowed brow only made me want to pull her closer, to shake her until she admitted what we both knew—that she wanted this as much as I did. But instead, I brushed my hand against her arm, guiding her away from the bar.
As we left the tavern, I felt the weight of their gazes lingering too long. The scrape of boots behind us was quiet but deliberate, setting my nerves on edge before the first words were spoken, and I knew the night wasn’t over.
The alley fight didn’t happen all at once. It built, like the tension in the tavern. The man from the bar and his companions followed us outside, their laughter low and mocking.
“Leaving so soon?” the leader sneered, stepping into our path.
Elyssara stiffened beside me, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her blade. I moved first, stepping in front of her, my stance broadening as I faced the man.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said, my voice low and steady.
The man didn’t back down. His grin widened, and when he called her a whore, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The words weren’t just an insult—they were a challenge, a provocation—and I answered without hesitation. My hand shot out, gripping his collar as I slammed him against the nearest wall.
The fight that followed was chaos.
Elyssara moved like a storm, her blade flashing in the dim light. She didn’t just wield that blade—she danced with it, her movements fluid and unrelenting. Watching her was like watching a storm: breathtaking, wild, and impossible to control. And I didn’t want to.
Every movement was deliberate, every strike calculated. She wasn’t just defending—she was dominating. And it was the most mesmerizing thing I’d ever seen.
When it was over, and the bodies were groaning at our feet, I turned to her. The fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed, and the sight of her, bloodied and unyielding, hit me like a blow.
“You shouldn’t have to fight like that,” I said, my voice quieter now, though the edge hadn’t entirely left.
Her retort was as sharp as I expected, but even as she snapped at me, I saw the way her breath hitched, the faint tremor in her hands.
I stepped closer, brushing a streak of blood from her jaw. “I told you—I don’t share.”
The air between us crackled, heavy with tension and something darker, something I didn’t dare name.
“Come,” I said, my voice rough. “I have something for you.”
Her eyes were full of both trepidation and hunger, a mirror of my own. Because whilst I know that I am playing a dangerous game, I can’t help but keep playing.
I had spent the last few hours arranging things she would never ask for.
A soft bed.
Fresh linens.
Warm water.
Clothes that actually fit.
Not because she needed them.
Because she deserved them.
And maybe—just maybe—because I wanted to be the one to give her something good.
Even if only for a moment, before duty tore it all away.
From both of us.
But as her footsteps fall in line with mine, and her mounting trust—fragile, reluctant—lingers between us, I know this truth like a blade at my throat: she will cost me everything.
And I’ll bleed for her anyway.