Page 36 of Feral Gods
"I gave explicit instructions?—"
"That I would not be left unguarded," she finishes, meeting my gaze directly. The timid slave who stumbled into our sanctuary less than a week ago has transformed into something altogether more formidable. "Zephyr is translating texts about purna warding magic in the archives directly below us. Thane is reinforcing the eastern tunnel entrance as we discussed."
Her calm recitation of facts does nothing to soothe my agitation. "And if enemies had breached our defenses while I was gone? If that purna witch had infiltrated our sanctuary?"
"Then I would have called for help and defended myself as best I could until you arrived." She sets down the cloth withdeliberate precision. "I'm not helpless, Ravik. Vulnerable, yes. Inexperienced with magic, certainly. But not helpless."
The echo of our earlier conversation—of her assertion of agency during the dark elf attack—stirs conflicting emotions within me. Pride in her growing strength battles with an overwhelming need to shelter her from all harm.
"Let me see your wound," I demand, approaching with careful steps. Despite my transformation, I remain acutely aware of how my massive form might intimidate a being so much smaller and frailer than myself.
Kaia hesitates only briefly before turning, presenting her injured shoulder with quiet dignity. The abrasion looks worse up close—a raw scrape approximately the size of my palm, already beginning to bruise around its edges.
"There's healing salve," she offers, gesturing to a small clay pot on the stone table. "Zephyr found it in the temple stores. Said it was infused with magic for accelerated healing."
I retrieve the container, removing its sealed lid with careful precision despite the size differential between my clawed hands and the delicate pottery. The salve within glows with faint luminescence, confirming its magical properties.
"This will help," I confirm, gathering a small amount on my fingertips. "But it may sting initially."
"I can handle pain," she replies simply, a statement so matter-of-fact it sparks renewed anger at all she must have endured before finding our sanctuary.
I apply the salve with utmost gentleness, talons retracted, using only the pads of my fingers against her tender skin. Even so, she tenses momentarily at the contact before relaxing into my touch. The contrast between my obsidian hand and her golden skin captivates me—darkness against light, stone against silk, predator against prey.
Except she has never truly been prey, has she? Not in spirit, regardless of her physical vulnerability.
"You fought well today," I say, surprising myself with the admission. "Your plan to divide our forces was tactically sound."
A smile graces her lips, transforming her face from merely beautiful to radiant. "High praise from the commander of the elite guard."
"Former commander," I correct, continuing to apply the healing salve with careful strokes. "That life ended centuries ago."
"Did it?" Her question carries no judgment, only genuine curiosity. "You still command. Still protect. Still lead."
The observation unsettles me with its accuracy. Despite my transformation, despite centuries of stone sleep, the core of who I am remains unchanged—a protector, a warrior, a leader. But something has shifted since awakening, something fundamental that centers around the remarkable human beneath my hands.
"I have never sought to protect anyone or anything as fiercely as I wish to protect you," I admit, the confession dragged from some deep, hidden place within me. "It... disturbs my equilibrium."
Kaia turns to face me fully, her movement bringing us closer than propriety would allow in any dark elf court. The healing salve glistens on her shoulder, already beginning to work its magic as the angry red fades to pink.
"Why?" she asks, a simple question with a profoundly complex answer.
I struggle to articulate emotions I scarcely understand myself. "You broke our curse. You awakened us from eternal imprisonment. That creates obligation."
"Is that all it is?" Her gaze searches mine, hazel-green eyes reflecting the lamplight. "Obligation?"
"No." The truth emerges against my will, compelled by something in her expression. "Not merely obligation."
"Then what?" She steps closer still, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body, smell the clean soap scent of her skin beneath the herbal tang of the healing salve.
Words fail me—I, who once commanded armies with eloquence and authority. Instead, I reach out, tracing the curve of her jaw with one careful finger, my obsidian skin stark against her warmth.
"I should not want this," I whisper, voice roughened by desire. "You are human. Fragile. Temporary."
"We are all temporary," she counters, leaning almost imperceptibly into my touch. "Some just have longer to wait."
The simple wisdom of her statement undoes something within me—some final restraint holding back the flood of emotion threatening to drown my rational mind. My hand slides from her jaw to the nape of her neck, cradling her head with a gentleness I did not know I possessed.
"If I start this," I warn, my voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate between us, "I may not be able to stop."
