Leira [Completed]

Chapter Thirty Five

LEIRA'S POV

I stifled a laugh as I glanced at him. With a concerned expression etched onto his features, he fidgeted with the bow I requested my men to leave on the log.

I rounded the area to be situated behind him. I wrapped an arm around his waist and clamped a palm on his mouth. With a slight smirk, I said, "I'm stealing you for myself."

I felt a twitch of movement from beneath my hand. "Hello, beautiful," he greeted.

"I'm late. Sorry," I said and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Where were you?" he murmured.

I settled down beside him on the log and clasped my hand around my bow. I missed the weight of my favourite weapon.

An almost inaudible sigh escaped my lips as I told him the truth of all that occurred. I mentioned all that I had the rights to say.

"Trey?" Justice said in a tone of incredulity and distress. We both failed to anticipate it.

Many disguised miracles were present during the fight with Treyton. I was certain that his two guards were in my house, under the command of Damon. I would have to bargain for their freedom.

Crawling from the topic, I began another—a more jovial and lighter subject. A suggestion and an invitation for a time I wished so much to have. A broad grin tackled my face, anticipating his answer.

"Of course I'll come," he told me.

I smiled impossibly wider, and I could feel the flush of my face as he gazed at me with those calculating orbs. Bewitching, I thought as he surveyed me.

Returning the look, I scanned the traits of the man who made me want to live.

"Not if it's your heart," my father had told me under the roof of an abandoned house. I understood now. Just like how I understood that I did not need to conceal beneath a mask anymore. I could and should be who I truly was.

Justice's features took a rather abrupt and noticeable shift. I studied his taut brow, stiff back, parted lips. It hinted indecisiveness, as if he had something to mention but was hesitant. Or, perhaps because it was not a suitable time.

My smile faltered into a petty frown, and with suspiciously narrowed eyes, I snapped, "Say it." He did not. Instead, he brushed his lips on the side of mine, gentler than the caress of a feather. His hand clasped mine and squeezed it once. I fought the yearning to part my mouth.

"I love you," he murmured against my skin. So soft that I assumed the breeze whispered it. Justice's face became florid and I could feel his heartbeat—unsteady, rapid, hysterical. 

I perked, flooded with heat as the words settled in the depth of my chest. It was repeated relentlessly in my mind. I love you. I love you. I love you.

My heart seemed to lurch at the combination of the words. I did not realize how much I needed them.

His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I separated them for him. It was my response to the words he knew I heard.

"I love you too," I found the chance to whisper back. His reaction was displaying more fervour, in a way that caused sizzling desire to trail my spine. His arms were around me, moulding my figure into his. A finished puzzle and a fitting pair.

I wanted to melt. The warmth of the wilderness and the occasional gusts of heated wind could not compare to what travelled within my body.

A ripple of sound escaped my throat, and the possessive tightening of his hold was everything I sought.

"Child," a voice I knew too well chided. "Not here, please. Perhaps after the meal that's prepared for you in the kitchen."

Oliver, a grandfather I was proud to have. He was barely bothered or stupefied to have found Justice and me tangled with each other.

The man beside me was radiating irritation at Oliver, who had cut our moment short. I discreetly poked him in the ribs so he could halt with his soft whining.

"Give me five minutes," I told Oliver.

He gazed at the bow beside me. "Have you been practicing?" he questioned, disregarding my earlier request.

"I haven't lost the ability to yield my favourite weapon," I answered, mostly because I had not been training.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, sweeping his eyes over me, then Justice. He gestured to my typical spot, and I grabbed my bow and the arrows in the quiver before strutting to the area.

Years ago, an unfortunate event struck. A girl walked into death's trap and gave up on climbing out. She allowed darkness to consume her, let them feed on her every fear and pain until nothing was left.

I stood in the same spot where I stumbled in that day. Where I met my father.

"Give me a target," I said.

Justice pointed, an extensive distance away. Barks of trees seemed to have parted for my thin target. "Right on that marking," he challenged. It was a mark I made years ago, yet the dot was not blemished with a dent.

Two pairs of eyes were watching intently as I nocked an arrow onto my bow.

"Don't miss," a voice that seemed distant instructed me.

A sly smile lifted my lips as I calculated the winds and aimed at my target, stretching beyond multifarious plantations.

I fired, barely eyeing it as it soared with freedom before I reached for a second arrow from my back, then another.

Three arrows. Not one. All of them found their marks, pierced through the same location again and again and again. Immaculate shots adopted from my father, who was merciless when it came to my skill in attacking.

I lowered my bow with the grin still present. My voice rang out, and I felt like even the winds kneeled to me as I uttered, "I'm Ariel Isadora. I never miss."

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what. a. queen. ik im fawning over my own character but like how can i notttt