Kythel returned to me before proffering the black book between us.
“‘People’?” he repeated softly, those jeweled eyes flashing in the dim light. “I’m not just any ‘person,’ Millie Seren.”
Was he angry? Annoyed? I couldn’t be certain. But I felt my own ire rise in response to the arrogance I heard threaded between his words.
Glancing between us at the black book, I reached forward to take it from his grip. I was surprised by the weight, convinced its pages were made of metal and not silken parchment. If I didn’tneedto peek within its pages, I would’ve left it in his grip.
“Neither am I,” I answered, hugging the book to my chest.
There was a grimness in his expression at the soft words.
“Neither are a lot of people, in my experience. Strangers always have a way of surprising you,” I informed him. “You think you’re better than everyone else because you’re aKyzaireof the Kaalium?”
Now there was warning written in his features.
“Maybe you are,” I said, shrugging my shoulder. “But many would say you’re lucky. Lucky to be born into the family you were. Lucky to be the High Lord of Erzos. Lucky to live in this keep, which is perfectly suited to you. Lucky to purchase rare Ver Teracer art for your atrium.”
“Careful, little one,” he growled, stepping forward.
But I wasn’t afraid of him. There was one thing I was afraid of in this universe, and it wasn’t him.
“For what it’s worth…I don’t envy you. I know better,” I said, craning my neck back to meet his flint-filled eyes. “They might call you lucky, blessed by your gods and goddesses. Me? I call you chained, like I told you already.”
A small flinch, but one I caught nonetheless.
It made me soften. I exhaled a small puff of breath. My shoulders lowered.
Reaching out a hand, I pressed it to his forearm. His exposed flesh was warm, the muscles beneath solid, like marble. He was incredibly tense. I wondered how much more pressure would make him crack.
I trailed my hand down his forearm before I cupped the back of his hand, turning it over so his palm was exposed.
The intensity of his gaze nearly made me shiver as I ran my thumb down his palm’s center. He had a large scar running across the length. Tracing it gently, I wondered what it was from but thought better than to ask. The tension beneath his skin, I noticed, slowly released.
A little farther away from cracking now,I couldn’t help but think.
He likes my touch,I thought next, the realization heating my neck before it bloomed to my face.
“Seren,” he said, the word gentle. Hushed in the sudden quiet between us. The throb of my heartbeat was loud, however. I could hear the leathery whisper of his wings when he stepped even closer.
“Yes?”
“You say your father was part Kylorr, but that is not a Kylorr name. Not one I’ve ever heard.”
“It was his mother’s name. His human mother,” I said. “Back then, it was a common name given to orphans on Genesis, where she was born. In an Old Earth language, it meansstar. When she died, my father wanted to take a piece of her as he traveled among the Quadrants, so he took her name. Then it became mine when he found me.”
“Found you?” he asked.
I was still stroking the palm of his hand, but I became careless. We both became careless. Because when I traced down his long fingers, I slid the pad of my thumb over a sharp edge of his claw, just as he curled it abruptly.
A sharp sizzling prick made me jerk away.
Kythel went deathly still. I watched little beads of red blood push through the cut flesh. It wasn’t a bad cut by any means—hell, I’d nearly cut off my entire thumb in a kitchen once and still couldn’t feel its tip.
Then I heard a rough rumble start up in Kythel’s chest. I watched his nostrils flare, heard his deep inhale, watched his eyes slide shut.
“I—I should go,” I said, squeezing my thumb against the material of my tunic to stop the flow.
“Yes, you should,” he finally bit out, pumping his wings in one sudden gust, propelling himself backward toward a shelf. When he bumped it, the books rattled. “I’ll have a keeper return you to RaanaDyaan. Wait for them out on the terrace.”
