The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Bonus Chapter #2: Toom Looks Different (Chapter 7 Reunion from Niako's POV)

Note: This bonus chapter was inspired by a suggestion from a new reader, Swhedha, and by the never-ending love of Niako's fan club president, BlameSaiki. Check out the prequel, "Rashika's Resistance," to learn the history behind Niako's family. Niako will also return in Finny's sequel as soon as the prequel is complete! 

Toom looked different.

I knew he would, both because ten years had passed and because of the rumors I had overheard. Watching him from behind, I admired the broad shoulders, tousled blonde hair escaping the hood at the edges, and the solid muscles visible even through that ridiculous poncho and loose trousers. He was a god among men.

A god who apparently thought he would blend in perfectly with an oversized poncho, hunched shoulders, and quick strides.

And Goddess have mercy, that just made him even cuter.

A breeze carried the stench of decay from an overflowing trash bin down the street. Still, the cool night air provided some reprieve from the unwelcome heat coiling in my core. The Coupling always presented numerous appealing options, but I never experienced this loathsome discomfort, this itch I could not scratch, this sickening loss of control. For a moment as I watched him, the strangest urge squeezed my stomach, my lungs... my heart.

I should warn him.

But while I had lost control over my vital organs, I would not allow my mouth to betray me. He would pass by blissfully unaware — out of sight, out of mind. He was not my responsibility, and I would not interfere with my family's plans. Whatever had happened between us as children held no bearing on the present. In fact, I preferred his family lose power sooner rather than later, so I would stop hearing his name in every bar, in every street. So I could forget about him entirely.

He rounded the corner, almost out of sight, when it happened. For some unfathomable reason, a single syllable wrenched its way free from my throat.

"Toom?"

He stiffened. Even before he turned toward me, his body emoted his internal struggle as though acting in a skit. If this were Makash, such an exaggerated reaction would be cause for suspicion.

But Toom was nothing like Makash.

Toom was endearingly, infuriatingly guileless.

"Hello, Niako." The bold, unrefined Fooja accent cut through the quiet of the street.

Then he turned around.

And seven hells, my lungs abandoned their duty to my body.

His blue-green eyes stood out even more than they had before against bronzed skin, and his hood slipped back just far enough to reveal a stubborn cowlick of sun-streaked hair. He stood erect, but his tight shoulders, his flexed arms, and his foot scuffing the ground revealed his self-consciousness.

He was so unaware of the body he now possessed.

I seized control of myself and managed an even tone. "You look... different."

His chiseled jaw worked as though physically chewing through some inner turmoil — turmoil that played across his eyes, as readily accessible as a ripe fruit dangling from a low branch. Turmoil that currently centered around just one thing.

Me.

I had heard tales of his many impressive conquests, in a fighting arena, in bed, and just today on his journey here. He was unbeatable, undeterrable, undeniable. But when his gaze traveled over me in spasmodic, almost unwilling movements, and his whole body reacted... he was defeated before the fight even began.