“Kael,” I say softly, the sound of my voice surprising me. The fire in his gaze flicks to mine for the briefest moment, and I can seethe battle raging in him—control versus destruction. It’s raw, dangerous, and devastatingly alluring. His honed body, all muscle and vein, arrest my attention. He looks to be carved by the gods themselves.
He exhales sharply through his nose, turning back to the man. “You should thank her. She’s the only reason you’re still breathing.” His arm releases, and the man crumples to the ground, coughing and choking as he scrambles backward,away from Kael.
Kael doesn’t look at him again. Instead, his eyes find mine, and the intensity in them is almost unbearable. The chaos around us fades—the groaning bodies, the bloodied ground, the smoldering magic from my blade—all of it seems to vanish under the weight of his ocean-blue gaze.
He steps toward me, slow and deliberate, and my breath hitches as the distance between us disappears. “Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice quieter now but no less commanding.
I shake my head, still clutching the Starforged Blade in my hand. “No, I—” My voice catches, and I force myself to steady it. “I’m fine. I can handle myself.”
His eyes flick down to the blade in my hand, then back to my face. There’s a glint of approval there, but also something darker, more possessive. “I don’t doubt that,” he says, his voice rough. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
“And yet, here I am,” I bite back, forcing steel into my voice. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Kael.” But even as I say the words, the memory of his blade flashing through the shadows—his rage, his precision—makes my breath hitch.
His lips curl into a smirk, but it’s softer this time, less taunting and more... something else. “I know you don’t,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a thumb along my jawline, smearing a streak of blood I hadn’t realized was there. “But I told you—I don’t share.” His thumb brushes over my jaw again, slower this time, as if to emphasize his words. “And what’s mine doesn’t bleed for scum.” His gaze holds mine, the storm in his eyes daring me to argue.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening at the weight of his words.His. The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, thick and suffocating, but I can’t bring myself to look away from him.
“Come,” he says, his voice softer now, though the edge of command still lingers. “I have something for you,” he says, his tone gentle, though the edge in his eyes remains. “Something I’ve been waiting to give you.”
“Shouldn’t you go back to Jax?” I can’t believe it's still at the forefront of my mind, but it’s out before I can catch it.Jealousy isn’t a virtue, Elyssara. But Stars, it’s burning through me, anyway.
An amused quirk kicks up one side of his mouth, “No, Duskae. It’s not like that.” Without another word of explanation, he nudges my elbow to lead me away from the tavern. I hesitate, just for a breath—a life in the slums will do that to a person—before following him. My legs move before my mind catches up, drawn by the quiet command in his touch.
I sheathe the Starforged Blade, the heat of the fight still coursing through my veins. My pulse thunders, not just from the violence but from the way Kael looked at me—like the chaos didn’t unsettle him, like he saw the darkness in me and welcomed it.
“Let’s go,” I say finally, my voice steadier than I feel.
As he leads me away, I glance back at the carnage we’re leaving in our wake. It should horrify me, but it doesn’t. Instead, I feel... alive. And Kael, with all his unrelenting fury, feels like the only person who might truly understand that.
This darkness, this violence—it terrifies me, but gods, it draws me to him like a moth to a flame.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
KAEL
The warmthof 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.
