Page 118 of The Ninth Element

My hands find his chest, reveling in the solid muscle under his shirt, then move upwards, circling his neck. Finally, my fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as if I’m afraid he’ll disappear.

I didn’t know a kiss could be like this. Transformative. All-consuming. I feel like I’m dissolving, melting, becoming someone new, someone bold, someone desirable, someone… seductive.

Darian’s right hand cradles the back of my neck, and the other roams down my back with a possessive touch that ignites a firestorm inside me. Time, logic, reason… they cease to exist. There’s only this. This kiss. This moment that I can stay in forever. And yet, still want more. Want him evencloser.

He abandons my mouth and trails his lips down my jawline against the pulse point in my neck, and I surrender completely. I gasp as my head falls back, offering him more, as I feel myself melting into him. His breath, warm and ragged, ghosts across my skin, sending waves of heat crashing through me.

He is all tongue and teeth, sucking at my neck, kissing his way up and nipping, playfully, at my earlobe, making me gasp, then whispers in a husky, ragged murmur, “Arien… you taste so good…”

He groans, and my insides melt at the sound.

He claims my mouth again, and this kiss is softer but deeper. It’s a slow, sensual exploration that steals the air from my lungs. I’m lost, drowning in sensation, in him. My mind empties, and my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. There’s only the feel of his lips on mine, the taste of him, the heatof his body, and the overwhelming need.

A sharp, searing heat at my wrist yanks me back to reality. Darian reacts instantly, pulling back slightly, his eyes widening in alarm. Our gazes drop simultaneously to our wrists. The coins are now glowing, radiating with an almost unbearable heat that threatens to burn our skin.

The spell is broken. I look up and see Darian’s eyes. Moments ago, they were filled with a dark, intoxicating desire. But now, there’s something else. Clearer. Still intense, but different. The blue is a deep and vibrant shade, like the ocean illuminated by the midday sun. I realize, with a strange, detached clarity, that this is my favorite shade of his blue.

“Arien,” he whispers, “I want to take you to your room. I want to kiss you wherever you allow me to kiss, taste you wherever you allow me to taste. I’m dying to know if you taste this sweet everywhere.”

Need pulses in my chest, then lowers into my belly and thighs. And I realize that there is nothing that he would want to do with me that I wouldn’t welcome.

“I want to kiss every part of your skin. I want to touch all of your soft parts until you gasp from pleasure in my arms. We can forget this summons and just go back to your room. And then, after it is all over, I’ll take you to Izadrock, and we won’t leave my room for days.”

The temptation is unbearable. I want to lose myself in him. In the heat and the hunger that’s blazing between us. To explore this sudden, overwhelming desire. It would be so easy. To pretend, just for a little while, that the trial doesn’t exist. To let him take me. The heat pools low in my belly, like a molten ache, spreading through me, making my skin tingle and my breath catch. I want his hands on me, tracing that heat, stoking the fire. I want…

But reality intrudes. The coin on my wrist burns with a constant, throbbing pulse, dragging me back from the edge. It’s a reminder of the impending decision, a choice I can’t escape, no matter how desperately I want to lose myself in this moment.

I’ve come this far and fought too hard; I can’t run away now. Not yet.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“Are you going to join Martysh?” His voice is rough, and his eyes search mine with an anguished plea.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I can’t avoid this moment. I have to choose. If I don’t… if I run from this, I’ll regret it forever.”

Darian’s grip on my back tightens with a possessive, almost desperate pressure, his fingers digging into my flesh. His eyes, now a stormy, turbulent sea of blue, reflect his internal battle and conflicting desires. He opens his mouth as if to argue but then closes it again, swallowing whatever words he was going to say, and instead takes a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to regain control. It’s a visible effort.

When he meets my gaze again, his expression is resolute and determined. “Stay with me. Just for this trial. I swear, I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you through it, if you ask me to. But… but I have to lose. If this is the final trial, I have to fail. For Izadeon. I can’t abandon my people.” His voice softens into a gentle caress. “And if, after all of this, you decide you want to lose too… just tell me. Say the word. And tomorrow, when we wake up in that inn, I’ll find you. Then I’ll take you to Firelands. I’ll face Emmengar; I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home with me.”

Home…

He leans in and kisses me again, so softly it feels like a feather. Cupping my face, his thumbs trace the curve of my cheekbones with such a tender touch that it makes me tremble. “This is your choice, Arien. But I swear to you, on my life and on Bahador and Faelas’s lives, and on the future of Izadeon, I will never lie to you again. I will protect you with everything I have, for as long as you’ll let me.”

Then, a playful, teasing light returns to his face, chasing away the shadows. His familiar, disarming smile, the one that seems reserved just for me, breaks through. “I really hope, if you choose to come with us to Izadeon, you’ll ask me to kiss you again.” His thumb strikes a soft skin under my ear, and his gaze drops to my lips. “And I promise you, Arien,” he whispers with a husky voice that sends a thrill of desire through me, “if you do… I won’t ever stop.”

Chapter Forty-One

The vast expanse of the inner courtyard is strangely deserted. The usual bustle of soldiers, maids, and smiths is absent, and an eerie silence engulfs the space, making the fortress feel like our illusion in the first trial.

Lirael is the only one present from Martysh, while the rest of the contenders—Samira, Olanna, Lila, Pippin, Omeer, Othman, Roshana, Bahador, Faelas, and finally, Zanyar—form a loose half circle in the center of the courtyard.

Darian and I join Bahador and Faelas. I can’t miss the guilt etched on Bahador’s face. His eyes hold a silent apology for his part in the deception, and I nod in understanding. We have all been driven by our own loyalties and fears. The fact that he feels guilty shows that the bond we formed transcended the deception. That makes it all hurt a little less.

The emptiness of the courtyard amplifies the sense of anticipation. The stone walls seem to close in, and the silence is pregnant with the weight of the impending trial. This is the culmination of our journey, the moment of destiny that would determine our fates forever.

I feel Zanyar’s gaze before I see it—a weight, an intensity, that draws my eyes to his. His expression is, as always, a mask that reveals nothing of the thoughts and emotions swirling beneath the surface. I search his eyes, those impenetrable emerald depths, looking for some clue, some hint of what he’s feeling, but find nothing.

Days have passed since his confession. Two days? Three? Time has lost all meaning, blurring into a haze of exhaustion and uncertainty. Emerging from the self-imposed isolation of my room, everything feels strange and new.

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