*MATURE FANTASY*
Bound by fate, torn by betrayal.
Their souls are intertwined.
She is his mate, and he is hers, whether or not this is something they want.
Elara has spent her life hiding from the oppressive forces of the Light, a powerful cult th...
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The ship rocked gently beneath my feet as I made my way through the dimly lit halls, my steps purposeful yet slow. It had been three days since that night with Elara. Three days of uncertainty and restless thoughts that kept me awake.
I finally stood before her cabin door, the wood polished and gleaming in the dim light of the lanterns that lined the walls. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand and knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. I heard her stir on the other side.
Seconds passed, feeling like an eternity before the door swung open. There she stood, Elara, fully dressed in black with her blade strapped to her thigh, a glimmer of steel catching the faint light. Her expression was unreadable, guarded.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, sounding distant. I refused to believe that what happened three nights ago had no effect on her. Her indifference had to be an act.
"We need to talk," I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her face, as if taunting me to reach out and brush it back. "There's nothing to talk about."
"There's plenty," I insisted, leaning a shoulder into the door frame and keeping my hands firmly to myself. "You've been avoiding me."
She clenched her jaw as her gaze drifted over me, probably not liking me edging up against the threshold to her private quarters. "Have I?" Her tone was sharp, defensive.
"Yes," I smiled, enjoying the fact that she refused to step away, not giving an inch of the space she deemed hers. "And I don't understand why."
She crossed her arms over her chest. As if that could provide some sort of barrier between us. "It's not your concern."
"It is if it involves us," I countered, observing the lovely pink color that was beginning to darken her cheeks at my words.
"We're not 'us'," she shot back, her stare piercing. It was clear that she was incredibly cautious where I was involved. Not that I blamed her. There wasn't much she truly knew about me. Nor that I rightly knew of her. What I did know, was how intoxicating the feel of her skin against mine was, what music her breathy moans were, how fucking good being inside her felt.
"Fine," I said. "Then let's talk about how Nox is a mist conjuror and the crew doesn't seem to know a thing about it." I threw out the false accusation, hoping it would shake something loose. That this topic would be important enough to her, to pull her out of hiding and force her to talk to me.
She hesitated, her expression unreadable. "Not here," she finally said, motioning me to move away from her door.
I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement moving through me. "Afraid you can't keep your hands off me if we are alone?"
Greed eyes bore into me with what almost looked like anger. "Don't flatter yourself." She was trying hard to pretend that what happened between us didn't rattle her.
