Elven Legacy

Chapter 135

Dharkan

So far, today had unfolded into this eerie series of events. For a moment there, on their makeshift battlefield, he'd really believed he would die. That luminous gate, thick with eye-upsetting textures, ablaze with impossible colors – that was some seriously fucked up shit. But, as it turned out, the demons were what that thing was after. And Dharkan had already lost Xephos a year ago, so no issue there, where he was concerned.

He was completely over that loss, too. He didn't care about demons anymore. Shape-shifting, deceiving cunts anyway.

Viper cared, though. Oh, she hid it pretty well, mind you. She maintained this solid, well-crafted shell of toughness about herself, to show the world you just couldn't hurt her no matter what. Dharkan didn't mind. He rather admired her for it.

So, the thing was, since today had been so crazy already, he'd decided to follow her home.

He'd walked beside her into the capital – which was stunning, actually. Well thought-out architecture, two or three-story buildings of marble, sandstone or fancy brickwork that never failed to complement one another, elaborate gardens swathing every front yard, beautiful women in cropped shirts and bright ruffled skirts performing choreographed dances on street corners. The city felt defiantly sunny even as the clouds stubbornly shrouded the sky above it.

Dharkan couldn't quite shake off the feeling that he must be dreaming. And so, the whole time, he just kept on following Viper across boulevards and streets she seemed to know intimately.

Because why the hell not?

And now, he'd stepped into her house – harbor-side mansion, Tocherro Ocean in full gorgeous view from the upper floor windows. She led him directly to her bedroom; she clearly wasn't one to dally. Dharkan's gaze touched the black satin sheets, rich burgundy pillows, matching set of throw blanket and drawn back curtains, billowing in the breeze.

Presently Viper was helping herself to a glass of pale pink wine from a silver pitcher, her back to him. As he stepped closer, her perfume came to rule over his senses. He'd noticed it before, but out in the city streets it had competition. Now it reigned alone. Amber oil, but also sweat, and blood. After all, they'd just been to war. He found it intoxicating.

For the first time in . . . he didn't know how many years . . . he wasn't thinking about Kitera.

Except you thought about her just now.

Oh fuck off, smart-ass.

"Want some?" she asked in their common language. North-eastern, lilting, lazy Laethi. Plus Viper's voice had the raspy edge of a pipe smoker, but deliciously female.

Honest truth, so far, her voice never failed to set off an eager stiffness along his cock.

Well, okay – not just her voice. It was strange, because he usually preferred his women at least a little curvy. Viper was skinny but there was something about the way she held herself, shoulders rolled back, head held high, fierce hazel eyes that could pierce through your soul, and then some.

There was no other woman he'd rather be with right now.

"I don't drink anymore, actually," he told her.

Viper gave him a long, appraising glance, as he stood just two or so feet away from her, next to the bed.

She shrugged one shoulder. "More for me. Why not, though? Call me curious." She quirked a smile, leaning her hip against the small oak desk, wine glass held up, opposite hand cupping her elbow.

Dharkan crossed his arms. "I was an asshole to people I care about, got myself in trouble, almost didn't make it."

"Hmm." Viper gave him another lingering look, and she pursed her lips, then relaxed them again, slowly. And those insistent eyes, thickly lined in kohl, too – he always was a sucker for that look.