Page 252 of Emylia

I tugged on a pair of black leather pants and a long-sleeved linen shirt—soft, fitted—then cinched a corset tight around my ribs. In the mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back.

No—this wasn’t a girl at all.

This was a warrior.

Unapologetic.

Ruthless.

Entirely myself.

Even the Gods would have to deal with it.

I stepped out of my room—then halted mid-stride when I collided with a wall of muscle, shadow, and steel. All of it wrapped in onyx.

Maalikai.

My breath caught. It had only been a day, but something about him always managed to feel brand new. He hit me like a blow to the ribs—dangerous in all the right ways. Every line of his body sharp, disciplined, lethal. Blades strapped across every visible surface, like violence had become part of his wardrobe.

A predator in human skin.

Mywarrior.

Without thinking, I reached up and kissed him—slow, deliberate. Just long enough to quiet the ache that had clawed at me all night.

He stilled, eyes flicking wide. “What was that for?”

I tilted my head, feigning ease. “Felt like it.”

But what I didn’t say—not aloud—was the truth. That when he wasn’t near, something in me fractured. That his gaze realigned parts of me I hadn’t known were broken.

That he made me feel seen.

Wanted.

Like I washis.

“Are you ready for today?” he asked, voice low.

“Always,” I murmured.

“I’ll get the supplies.”

“I’ll be?—”

“Saddling the horses?” His smirk deepened.

A laugh slipped free. Damn him for knowing me better than I knew myself. We moved around each other like seasoned dance partners—seamless, instinctive. Like the draw of a bow and the release of an arrow.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Justthere. Then he turned and walked away, each step slow, deliberate. Every movement radiating quiet power.

Gods, he was unfair.

And he didn’t even know what was waiting for him yet.

I could’ve gone with him. Should’ve, maybe. But I was too eager to give him his gift. Every second felt like an hour—and I didn’t want to wait anymore.

By the time he returned, both horses were saddled. Sunlight caught the strands of his hair, casting a warm glow along his jaw and the stormy line of his brow. Even with that brooding edge, he’d never been like that with me.

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