Chapter 12
Nervously, I awaited his return. First, I had tried different poses, laughing at my attempts at looking sexy for him, then I had pulled the sheet up to my chin and called myself a moron. Then I pounded the pillow, wondering how long it took a man to take a goddam bath.
Finally, I think I fell asleep.
When I woke, I assumed it was morning. The side of the bed next to me was untouched. Instantly, everything came back to me. Zaph. The battle, the kiss… the orgasm. Oh shit, that orgasm.
His promise.
Where the hell was… my head spun around until I saw him, sprawled out in what had to be the most uncomfortable position in history on a large, cushioned chair. His feet were crossed and stretched, his chin rested in his fist, and his eyes were closed. He was fast asleep. So much for his promises!
On what looked like a hovering boulder with a flat surface—and which probably was some kind of nightstand—rested a large rock.
I picked it up; it reminded me of pumice.
It wasn't as heavy as it looked—not that it mattered right then, because my temper was flaring.
I regretted it the moment the pumice thingy went flying through the air, straight for Zaph's head.
His reaction would have been comical had I not been torn between guilt and residual anger.
There wasn't even a fraction of a second between the rock hitting him in the head—I'd never aimed that well in my life—and him being up, in a defensive pose, holding a sword—I had no idea where that came from.
A small noise escaped me, something that was somewhere between an aborted giggle and a short cry of amazement for my own boldness. His head whipped toward me, "Did you throw a pumelagage at me?"
"Sorry?" I tried, moving my legs over the corner of the bed, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around me, unwilling to have him see that I had waited for him—naked.
"Is that a question or an apology?" He demanded, sheathing his sword in what seemed to be thin air by his side.
"It was what you deserved for breaking your promise," the words left me, sounding angry and petulant.
It was the wrong thing to say and definitely the wrong tone, because his astounded expression changed into the arrogant, self-assured look that always got me riled up.
"I apologize if I have left you… wanting." If anything, his smirk deepened, and amber sparkles moved through his eyes. Fascinated, I stared at them until his words penetrated my mind.
He hadn't left me wanting, as he put it.
Well, he had in a way. I had never been that satisfied in my life, but I had also looked forward to…
having him inside me. I felt myself blushing and noticed him noticing—damn him!
He made me want to pick up that stupid rock and bang it repeatedly over his head this time.
I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing him the kind of effect he had on my temper. Instead, I reined it in, crossed my arms, clutched the sheet tighter around me like flimsy armor, and said, more accusation than anything else, “You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone.”
For a moment, something flickered in his expression—regret, maybe, or the echo of his own promise. But then the mask slammed back into place.
He kept his voice smooth as velvet. “You were not alone. I was here.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling a low burn in my stomach from newly arisen anger. He wanted to play games? Fine, we could play games. “I’m sorry,” I said, voice sweet as poison. “I shouldn’t antagonize you when you clearly weren’t up to keeping your promise.”
The words hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown, daring him to pick it up.
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or furious.
The amber in his eyes glowed brighter, and more golden shadows curled at the edge of his aura.
It still looked dangerous and unstable, like a whirlpool of the darkest red and black.
And yet, when he stepped toward me, the only thing I felt was heat pooling low in my stomach and a wetness gathering between my thighs.
I hated myself for it. Not as much as him. But it was there.
“Careful, little star,” he murmured, the words more warning than tease. “You do not know what you ask for.”
My heart kicked hard against my ribs. “Then tell me. Show me. Because lying here wondering if you’ll touch me or if you’ll disappear again is worse.”
I couldn't believe I said that. What was wrong with me?
His jaw flexed, a muscle ticked as though he was at war with himself. And maybe he was. The mighty, untouchable Zapharos, brought low not by an army but by one human woman and the chaos she ignited in him. Hah! Now that would make a book title.
I almost reached for him. Almost. But the air between us stretched like molten glass, and I didn’t know if the smallest touch would make it shatter or explode. His gaze sharpened, the sparks in his eyes dimmed into something heavier. The shift was so abrupt that my breath snagged.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Oh, for the love of—what? Now? First, he preached fate and Aelyth like some cosmic professor, then he vanished, then he came back only to… yeah, that. And now he wanted to talk? Was he bipolar or just hellbent on driving me insane?
The weight in his tone unnerved me, but hell if I’d let him see that. I lifted my chin. “Talk? Really? That’s your follow-up after disappearing for two days and breaking your promise?”
One dark brow arched, infuriatingly smug. “You noticed.” His mouth curved with deliberate slowness. “Did you miss me?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I cursed my traitorous tongue. I clutched the sheet tighter, praying it disguised the fact that my pulse was about to jackhammer out of my chest and, okay, yes, that I was getting wet. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
His smirk deepened. “So that’s a yes.”
“God, you are insufferable.”
“And yet,” he murmured, stepping closer until the air itself seemed to bow around him, “you’re still here.”
His smirk lingered, like he wanted to keep playing this game, volleying words until I cracked first. But then it slipped, replaced by something quieter. He straightened, almost as if bracing himself, and the change in his eyes made my mouth go dry.
“We need to talk,” he repeated, heavier this time.
I folded my arms tighter, wrapping the sheet around me as if it could shield me. “About what? The Aelyth thing? Or the whole promise-you-didn’t-keep thing? Because I have notes.”
His jaw twitched, but instead of rising to the bait, he shook his head. Oh. He wasn’t joking. Not this time. Something in my chest stuttered. Against my better judgment, I slid back down onto the edge of the bed, pulling my knees up and muttering, “Alright, then. I’m all ears.”
His gaze locked on me. “You’ve noticed my aura.”
Every muscle in me wanted to roll my eyes, but I caught myself, barely. My teeth sank into my lip instead. “Noticed? Try blinded by it,” I muttered, then waved him on with a flick of my hand. “Fine. Enlighten me.”
His voice dropped lower, almost reverently, but still carried an undertone of iron.
“I've already told you we used to be different. We were golden—burning bright with what we thought was endless power. We were Arkhevari, and we were whole.” His gaze unfocused for a moment, like he could still see that past shining back at him.
“But it was not enough. We hungered for more knowledge, more strength. And so, we descended into the Dark Abyss.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you already told me all that, you lost your Aelyth, you were cursed, you battle all the time,” I rolled my eyes for good measure, and my tone was dripping with a sarcasm I couldn’t quite choke back. “Sounds cheerful.”
His eyes flicked back to me, unimpressed.
I shrugged. “Go on. I’m listening. Really.”
“The Dark Abyss gave us what we asked for,” he continued, undeterred, “but it stripped away what made us golden. It left us dark. Immortal, yes, but at a cost. We lost our light. Our shine.”
I exhaled through my nose. “Yeah, you told me that part already, too. Gold guys go down, come back broody, immortal, and moody as hell.” I tipped my head, unable to resist. “Which explains a lot, actually.”
His eyes narrowed, like he expected my mockery but refused to let it deflect him.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “I told you what we became. Gold turned to shadow. Immortal but… altered.” He paused, the silence stretching taut. “But I did not tell you what it still costs.”
Something in his voice made me still.
“It is not only the Dark Abyss,” he said.
His eyes turned hard as cut onyx; all traces of the amber I thought I saw earlier were gone.
“The Mmuhr’Rhong press against us always, their corruption claws at the edges of what we are.
And without our Aelyth—without the balance we were created to share—we have no anchor.
Every want, every surge of power, every moment of weakness becomes another opening for them.
To fight, to kill, to claim, that is the only way to keep them at bay. ”
His gaze flicked over me, and his jaw locked. “And to want you, Ella… that hunger is no different. It leaves me exposed. To them. To the abyss. To the part of me I can no longer trust.”
My throat went dry. Oh.
“So that’s why,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “Why you broke your promise?”
His eyes met mine, and bluntly he asked. “Would you have preferred I kept it? Risked becoming nothing but the black, or worse, their vessel, while I was inside you?”
Heat shot to my face, but not from embarrassment—fury, confusion, and longing shot through me all at once. I bit my lip hard, forcing myself not to look away.
“You could have said that,” I muttered, waving my hand at him like I was shooing away smoke. “Instead of leaving me here all alone, again."
"You weren't alone, I was here the whole night," he contradicted, and I shot him a scathing glare, which he deflected with smugness.
The smugness didn’t last. Not this time. His expression softened, grew intent in a way that made the air feel heavier.
“So now what?” I asked, keeping my voice lower, matching his seriousness despite myself.
For once, there was no smirk on his lips. Only truth. “Now… you complete me.” His hand flexed at his side, as if the words cost him. “I can already feel it. The change.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Change?”
His jaw dipped in a firm nod. “The gold returns more often. The black recedes.”
“You mean your eyes,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “They turn amber when you’re not brooding like some cosmic gargoyle.”
That actually startled him. His brows lifted, and genuine surprise broke through his godlike mask. “You saw it.”
“Hard not to,” I muttered, my throat suddenly tight.
He exhaled, steadying himself. “Then you understand why I must take you to the Council of Seven.”
My stomach dropped. “Council of what now?”
“The Council of Seven, made up of my brothers and me, the only ruling class of Arkhevari that's left after the First Collapse.” His gaze pinned me, unflinching. “They must see you. They must know you.”
My throat went dry, and a lump formed there that refused to move. More of those insufferable men? “Oh.” It was all I managed, though inside, my mind was screaming: Oh shit. Oh hell. That's a hard no.
I stared at him. “And why would I do that?”
His gaze didn’t waver, but mine narrowed, sharpened with all the reasons I wanted to fling back at him. This wasn’t my fight—none of it.
So Zapharos had saved me, fine, and given me a decent—okay, okay—the best orgasm of my life. That didn’t mean I owed him some intergalactic road trip to meet his council of spooky immortal brothers.
Well, Ella, it kinda does, my snarky inner voice chimed in. Guy saves your ass, rocks your world, keeps you from being monster chow. You could at least humor him.
“Oh, shut up,” I muttered under my breath, startling Zaph, who stared at me the entire time.
What else are you going to do? The voice pressed. You got a dig waiting for you? A meeting back at the university? A boyfriend pacing the floor, wondering where you are?
The sting of that one caught me off guard.
No. There was nothing and no one waiting.
Not anymore. I clenched the sheet around me, and hot anger sparked against the cold truth pressing in.
My life—my real life—was already gone. Even if I somehow got back to Earth, what then?
As far as I knew, the Cryons were still tearing it apart.
The thought hollowed me out. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper, fighting the ache in my chest.
No, I wasn’t doing this because of Zaph.
God, no. He was smug, impossible, infuriating.
Unlikeable. Yet… something in me leaned toward him like a moth to a flame.
Not safe. Not smart. But there, all the same.
I closed my eyes, dragging in a shaky breath.
When I opened them again, he was still watching me, steady and unyielding, like he could see every battle I’d just fought inside my head.
I looked at him, really looked at him, past the arrogance and the impossible beauty and the infuriating smugness. He’d as much as admitted he was afraid, the mighty, untouchable Zapharos, afraid of himself.
My heart clenched. What would that even feel like? To spend eons not only fighting monsters, but fighting yourself? To carry that weight, alone, without balance, without relief, without anyone to lean on?
God. No wonder he was half-cracked. No wonder he hovered between gold and black like the universe couldn’t decide what to do with him. And hadn’t he said it? If the black took over, it wouldn’t just destroy him. It would use him. Twist him. Turn him into the very thing he fought.
The thought made my stomach churn.
I did owe him. Not just for saving me. Not just for…
well. The kiss. The orgasm. The way he’d torn through everything I thought I knew about myself in a heartbeat.
But because I couldn’t stand by and watch anyone suffer needlessly.
Not if it was in my power to stop it. And from the way he said it—from the way his eyes had sparked amber when he looked at me—it was in my power.
I could bring that light back into him. Not so we could…
no. God, no. This wasn’t about that. Although…
maybe that could be part of it. Eventually.
I dragged in a breath and let it out slowly. “Alright,” I said, the word scraping out of me like it cost something. Maybe it did. “I’ll go. To your council. Whatever this is.”
His eyes flared, the faintest glow of amber licking through the dark. That alone told me I was doing the right thing.