Page 43 of The Fractured Veil

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “If you say so.” My voice was softer now. The playful banter was a much needed distraction.

"Did you need a ride to town or wherever you're going for break? You can use my phone if you need to contact your family," Zarek offered, looking around for his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration as he rifled through drawers and patted his pockets.

"Oh no, that's okay. Are the dorms still open through break?" I asked, walking back to hang his robe up where I found it, my fingers lingering on the soft fabric—trying to appear casual.

"Sort of, but why would you want to go back to the dorms?" He stopped his search, studying my face and body language, his eyebrows scrunching together as if trying to decipher a complex puzzle. He seemed genuinely lost by the idea, as if spending the holidays alone in a dorm room was the most illogical thing in the world.

"I prefer to be alone for the holidays," I lied, forcing a small smile, hoping it would convince him. I didn't have anywhere else to go, no family to return to, but the thought of admitting that made me feel pathetic. "Do you have a brush I could use?" I added quickly, trying to change the subject, to steer the conversation away from my personal life—from the gaping hole where family should have been.

Zarek's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of understanding in their depths, as if he saw right through my flimsy excuse. “Oh, Firefly, when will you stop lying to me,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he started walking towards me, his gaze fixed, his presence filling the room.

A blush crept up my neck, a wave of heat spreading through my body as Zarek stopped only inches away. He didn't just stop, though. He braced an arm against the shelf behind me, effectively boxing me in. The air crackled with a sudden, charged tension. His proximity was overwhelming, the warmth radiating from him a physical force. I craned my head back, meeting his gaze—determined not to be intimidated, though my heart hammered against my ribs. A silent challenge, something primal and exciting, sparked between us. My mouth went dry. His amber eyes, intense and searching, held mine captive. He leaned closer, the scent of cedar and sandalwood filling my senses, making my head spin. I could feel his breath ghosting across my skin. He reached up, his arm brushing against mine, sending a shiver down my spine, as he grabbed a brush from the shelf. The movement was slow, deliberate, and somehow predatory. My breath hitched. I was acutely aware of every inch of him—the hard line of his jaw, the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt.

“Here you go,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, laced with something that sounded dangerously like amusement. A slow, satisfied smile played on his lips, as if he’d just won some unspoken battle. His fingers brushed against mine as he handed me the brush—the contact brief but electric.

“Thanks,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. The word felt thick and heavy in the charged silence between us.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The air thrummed with unspoken words. His eyes held mine—a silent dare—as if he could see the turmoil within me, the warring desires. He was so close, I could feel the heat radiating from him, a magnetic pull I struggled to resist. I found myself leaning just slightly towards him, drawn in by an invisible force. My breath hitched again.

“Anytime, Firefly.” He winked, a playful glint in his eyes, and finally pulled away—leaving me breathless and disoriented with the brush clutched in my hand and a heart that was threatening to beat its way out of my chest.

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself as I turned away, focusing on taming my tangled hair—the bristles of the brush a small, grounding sensation against my scalp. But the image of his face—so close, so intense—lingered in my mind. I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had let myself lean in just a little more, if I had surrendered to the pull I felt towards him. Towards Nox. The thought sent another wave of heat through me, a confusing mixture of desire and a prickle of unease. What was this connection between us? It was exhilarating, terrifying, and I had no idea what to make of it.

Chapter19

Thalia’s POV

Zarek left me alone as I got myself together, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I had been out for days—and the confusing, unfamiliar feelings I was developing for not only Zarek, but Nox as well. It was unsettling, this pull towards them. Was I just that desperate for some kind of belonging?

I’d heard stories about the Gifted—how having multiple partners was said to be a natural extension of their power. But in Nyvorthia, it was seen as nothing short of shameful, even repulsive, a blatant sign of moral decay. They're so quick to judge, so eager to condemn. They spoke of it with open disdain, their noses wrinkled in disgust. They whispered about the Gifted, painting them as immoral and depraved, yet envied them. They feared what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t control.

And now, here I was, struggling with emotions I couldn’t explain. A confusing pull towards not one, buttwoof these powerful beings. Emotions that, if voiced aloud, would surely make me a target.

As I reached the bottom step of the staircase, I recognized Nox's voice instantly—deep, commanding, yet laced with a softness I hadn't heard before. It caught me off guard, making me pause. For some reason, I wasn’t ready to face him yet, not after the strange intimacy of this morning. The way his presence had felt both comforting and unsettling, a paradox that left me breathless. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his hand against my waist, sent a shiver down my spine.

Instead, I made my way towards what I thought the kitchen would be, hoping to avoid having to face any of them. My stomach growled—a timely reminder that I hadn't eaten in what felt like forever—adding a physical hunger to the emotional chaos churning within me.

I entered the kitchen, the scent of something savory wafting through the air, a welcome distraction from my anxieties. I peeked into a pot simmering on the stove—a thick, fragrant stew filled with chunks of meat, vegetables, and herbs. It looked delicious, and the warmth emanating from it seemed to beckon me closer. I reasoned that they wouldn't mind if I helped myself; after all, I've been here for god knows how long.

I found a bowl in one of the cupboards and ladled some of the stew into it, the warmth of it spreading through my hands, a small comfort in the vastness of the house, a tangible reminder of the simple pleasures in life. I carried it over to the table and sat down, blowing gently on the steaming liquid before taking a cautious sip. The rich flavors filled my mouth—a burst of savory satisfaction—and I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, letting the warmth spread through me, chasing away the lingering chill.

As I ate, my mind wandered back to the brothers. I still couldn’t quite figure them out—their complex dynamic, their undeniable connection to me, and the baffling reason they were helping me. Zarek had been kind, almost protective, his touch lingering in my memory. Damon, on the other hand, seemed to view me with an unnerving suspicion, his words sharp and accusatory, as if he saw me as a threat. And Nox… well, Nox was an enigma all on his own, a silent, watchful presence that both intrigued and intimidated me.

I was halfway through my bowl of stew when I heard the door open. I looked up to see Nox standing in the doorway, his tall frame filling the entrance, making him seem even larger than I remembered. His eyes locked onto mine, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it hardened to the familiar mask of aloofness.

"You're up," he said, his voice neutral, almost strained, as if he were holding something back.

I swallowed, setting my spoon down, the clatter echoing in the sudden silence. "Yeah. Zarek said I was out for a while." I tried to keep my tone light, casual, but the weight of his gaze made it difficult. There was something about Nox that always put me on edge. He made me feel both seen and exposed, like he could peer into the deepest recesses of my soul.

He walked further into the room, his eyes never leaving mine. "You were. You needed it." He paused, as if considering his next words, his brow furrowed in thought, a crease appearing between those emerald eyes. "How are you feeling?"

There was an unexpected gentleness in his question, a subtle concern that caught me off guard. I hesitated, searching his face for any sign of his usual indifference, but found none, only a flicker of the real Nox that made my heart skip a beat. "I'm… okay. A little overwhelmed, I guess." I shrugged, offering a faint smile, trying to downplay the chaos swirling within me. "Just trying to figure out what's going on, but physically, I'm better." The throbbing headache that had plagued me earlier had subsided, leaving behind a dull ache.

Nox nodded, his features softening slightly, a flicker of relief crossing his face. It was fleeting—gone as quickly as it appeared. He moved to the counter, leaning against it as he crossed his arms over his chest, the casual posture negating the gravity of his gaze. "There's a lot to explain. But for now, just focus on getting your strength back." His eyes flickered over me, assessing, as if he was trying to gauge how much I could handle, how much I already knew.

I glanced down at my bowl, my appetite suddenly gone, the stew now a cold, unappetizing lump. "Why are you helping me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. I raised my eyes to meet his, hoping to find some clue to the enigma that he represented.

Nox's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. His silence stretched making me even more anxious. Then he let out a slow breath, his eyes darkening, a shadow passing over his features, like a cloud obscuring the sun. "Because whether you like it or not, you're part of this now. And that means we protect you." His voice was firm, resolute, leaving no room for argument, a declaration that echoed in the small kitchen.

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