Page 211 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

Navigating swiftly through the throng of patrons, Rain approached his observer from behind. As he drew closer, the female’s appearance filled him with intrigue.

She was dressed entirely in black, with no identifying colours that he could discern. Her dark hair was swept up into a high, wavy ponytail cascading halfway down her back. The strands caught the dim light, shimmering like ink. Despite the low lighting, Rain could tell from the skin on her neck that she was of a dusky complexion. Her posture was relaxed but alert, shoulders squared, weight balanced evenly; the stance of someone trained to react at a moment’s notice.

He approached her quietly, leaning close, speaking just over her shoulder with a teasing remark.

“Make a habit of watching strangers go to the toilet?”

His presence was close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear.

She reacted instantly, whirling around with such speed that Rain nearly missed the dagger clenched in her fist. The blade glinted under the bar’s lanterns, a flash of silver slicing through the air. He responded quickly, using his power to catch her wrist just inches from his jugular. His fingers locked around her arm, halting the strike with supernatural precision. His eyes flared curiously; he hadn’t predicted that move; hadn’t felt her intention.

“Now, now, no need for violence.” Rain said, meeting her narrowed gaze.

Her dark almond eyes, highlighted by smudged kohl, glared at him defiantly. They were sharp, intelligent, and utterly unyielding. He held her gaze, trying to read her emotions; he felt her stubbornness, but he couldn’t sense a single emotion. It was like pressing his hand against a wall. Carefully, Rain used his power again to pry her fingers from the knife, catching the weapon in his palm as it fell, then released his hold on her wrist.

“Don’t use your power on me!” She snapped, rubbing her wrist, her beautiful features matching the scold he had felt moments before.

“And give me back my knife,” she demanded, her hand outstretched with clear expectation.

Rain studied her intently, his gaze lingering over the lines of her body. She held herself with the unmistakable confidence of a seasoned fighter; her physique was fit and lean, though undeniably curvy, further accentuated by the way her leather bodice and slacks hugged her frame. Her stance was balanced, ready, her chin lifted in challenge. Unmoved by her impatience, Rain continued to eye her, noting the way she carried herself, every detail reinforcing her combat training.

“Knife,” she prompted once more, her voice sharpened with annoyance as she insisted on the return of her weapon. The single word cut through the noise of the bar like a blade itself; crisp, impatient, edged with a warning Rain found oddly enticing.

Redirecting his attention, Rain looked closely at the blade. It was crafted with remarkable extravagance: the sheath shimmered with pearl, encased in intricate silver vines, each adorned with delicate buds fashioned from orange aetherchrome. The craftsmanship was exquisite; the kind of artistry reserved for nobility or elite warriors. He observed that the aetherchrome had lost its usual charge, suggesting it had been some time since the knife had been near its source crystal. The dullness of theorange stone made the weapon feel strangely dormant, like a sleeping serpent waiting to be awakened.

With a deft movement, Rain spun the blade in his palm, catching it by the tip before meeting her unwavering, expectant gaze that tracked every motion he made. Her eyes followed the arc of the dagger with predatory precision, her posture coiled and ready, as though she could snatch it back at any moment.

Rain regarded the dagger with a casual air, holding it as if it were nothing more than a harmless trinket. “Should I have allowed you to maim me with your pretty little dagger instead?” he asked, his tone laced with the hint of a challenge. The female’s eyebrow arched in response, her expression clearly stating that she would have preferred just that.

With expert reflexes she gripped the hilt and yanked it from his grasp, nicking the skin at the pad of his thumb in the process. Rain hissed softly, more in surprise than pain. His eyes widened in disbelief; she had caught him off guard again. Was he losing his edge or had he met his match, either way it was infuriating. The sting of the cut was nothing compared to the sting to his pride.

She spun on her heels, pacing through the crowd, heading for the exit. Her movements were fluid, purposeful; she slipped between patrons with the ease of someone accustomed to navigating chaos. He couldn’t let her leave.

Employing every skill at his disposal, Rain subtly manipulated the crowd, positioning people in such a way that their movements blocked her path, while ensuring he himself had a clear route. His power nudged bodies like pieces on a board, shifting the flow of the room without anyone noticing. As a result, he was able to swiftly intercept her before she could reach the exit. Flustered and preoccupied with weaving through the throng, she glanced back in frustration towards the spot where theyhad previously stood, losing track of his location as she struggled to force her way between patrons.

Suddenly, she collided with Rain’s unyielding chest. The impact startled her, and she instinctively reached out to steady herself, an apology already forming on her lips.

“Sorry, I… You!” she exclaimed, her expression shifting rapidly through a spectrum of emotions—surprise, irritation, indignation—each one serving to accentuate her striking beauty. Eventually, she settled on a look of irritation, planting her hands on her hips in a stance of defiance.

Rain couldn’t resist smirking at the sight. There was something magnetic about this female; not merely her beauty, but the way she held herself, her unpredictability. She was unlike any aetherial he had ever encountered, and the challenge she presented was undeniably intriguing to him.

“Me again,” he said smugly, “I have a question.” He paused, amused by her discomfort, her face revealing every emotion he couldn’t channel from her, “a few questions actually.”

“Good for you, I don’t much feel like answering your questions,” she retorted. “I suddenly have the urge to go back to my hotel and bathe. Present company and his power seem to be leaving an unpleasant feeling upon my skin.” Her tone was sharp, but the faint tremor beneath it betrayed her nerves. His lips twitched into a grin, to which her eyes narrowed further.

“You can think of me while you bathe later.” He said with a wink, enticing a scowl out of her. “Until then, please, join me for one drink. After all, you seemed to have taken an interest in me before I approached you. Perhaps, we can satisfy both of our curiosities?”

Her cheeks burned as she searched his face, contemplating his intentions. “Just one harmless drink, that is all I ask.” He held up his hands; to emphasise his good intentions, her shoulders dropped in resignation.

“One drink and then you will let me leave?”

“You’re not my prisoner, Princess, you may decline, but where is the fun in that?” Her eyes sparkled at his challenge, her lips pressing together to smother a smile she refused to give him. He held out a hand, she stared at it and then back at him, shooting him a look of disdain. “I am just going to lead you back to my table, I don’t particularly trust you not to run away if I turn my back on you. Please, indulge me.” To that she did award him a smile, the thought must have crossed her mind.

She coyly slid her fingers onto his awaiting palm; both of them inhaled sharply as a surge of energy pulsed in the pit of their stomachs. The sensation was immediate; a soft, electric flutter that rippled through him like a whisper against his skin. Her eyes widened and her body tensed, her grip tightening in his. Had she not reacted, Rain would have assumed he was the only one affected, but she openly wore her emotions, displaying every sensation. In contrast, Rain showed no outward sign of the effect, keeping his feelings carefully guarded. Instead, he turned and tugged her lightly behind him, guiding her to the back of the room and towards his secluded table.

His mind raced to analyse the sensation. The feeling lingered, transforming into something as delicate as butterfly wings, subtle yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t attraction, not exactly; it was recognition. Something in her energy resonated with his, like two notes vibrating in the same key.

When they reached the table, Rain gently released her hand. She balled her hand into a fist, cradling it in her other palm as she lowered herself into the chair he offered. The sensation gradually settled, but a lingering awareness remained, like a fingerprint pressed into kneaded dough.