The Awakening

Chapter Twenty Five

"Fun?" Avelon's eyebrows arched defiantly, her gaze sharp as she tried to mask the unease gnawing at her insides. The ambient light of the hall cast shifting shadows on Ernin's face, making his smirk seem almost predatory. She eyed him suspiciously.

Ernin wore a simple, loose hanging white tunic and dark brown leather pants. His dark black boots were fit for a guard and stood out against his brown leather pants. His wavy hair was pulled into a neat bun which made Avelon want to chuckle. She did not favour the look but understood why some Fae would. Avelon bit down on the mocking smirk she wanted to offer Ernin. His look was casual and inviting, though Ernin's presence had Avelon squirming beneath her composed exterior.

Despite the instinctive urge to frown and curl her lip in distaste, she forced a mask of determination and wittiness to shield her discomfort. Her fingers drummed silently against her side, betraying her agitation.

"Oh yes, I do remember the rags you wore the other evening. You were quite the spectacle." Ernin's eyes glinted with an inscrutable emotion. Avelon sneered distastefully, causing the glint in Ernin's eyes to brighten.

"Honestly, not interested." Her gaze lingered over him with deliberate coolness, emphasizing her disinterest.

"But given your ample attitude, I assume you're as healthy and fit as a fiddle. I doubt I need to watch you for much longer to prove that." She punctuated her words with a dismissive roll of her eyes, noting how his smile widened at her words.

Ernin pushed himself off from the centaur, approaching her. His movements were deliberate, each step measured as if he were savouring the effect he had on her. Her frown deepened as she squared her shoulders. Avelon was determined to slap his cocky grin right off his face.

"I can show you just how fit I am?" His voice was laden with a suggestiveness that made Avelon's stomach churn, an almost nauseating mix of repulsion and disgust swirling within her.

Avelon resisted the urge to gag. While Ernin was by no means hard on the eyes, the general idea of him- and his cruel bloodline- had her insides curling and knotting with unease. She promptly held up a hand, steering her look away from him to compose her reeling temper.

"Are you always this way?" She let the words drip from her tongue with careful precision and disgust, her eyes narrowing slightly as a frown etched itself onto her face.

For a moment, Ernin's confident facade faltered, and his smile dropped. A shadow flickered across his face, something vulnerable that he quickly masked as he looked away. He took a step back, his posture stiffening as if uncertain how to respond. His hand ran through his unruly blonde hair, the soft curls at the ends catching the light in a way Avelon had not noticed before, a detail that seemed oddly out of place.

"Anyway," Avelon sighed, a trace of impatience in her voice as she dismissed his internal struggle, "How are you feeling, generally speaking—after what happened?" Her tone was flat, betraying none of the curiosity and anxiety that gnawed at her mind. She didn't know Ernin well or what he was capable of, but she was determined to see beyond the façade he presented.

Her eyes scrutinized him, looking for cracks in his veneer of charm and danger. She experienced the disgustingly, unfiltered, flirty and dangerous persona he liked to portray- Balor's son and Brianne's brutal ex-lover. Though, some part of her hesitated- recalling the darkness that followed him before he proceeded to try and kill Brianne.

He had to have been influenced.

"Well?" She snapped, her voice cutting through the silence with a lack of compassion that was almost palpable.

Ernin's frown deepened, and he met her gaze with a tired resignation. "You," he began, his voice hesitant as he licked his lips, "Surprise me."

Avelon's eyebrows shot up in confusion, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to comprehend his nonchalance. "What does that have to do with anything?"