Page 67 of Feral Gods
"Like this?" A flare of magenta light spilled through the doorway, mingling with Zephyr's characteristic blue-white glow.
"Precisely. Extraordinary."
Another pause, then Kaia's voice again, softer still. "It's not just the magic, is it?"
"No." Zephyr's admission hung in the air. "It hasn't been just the magic for some time now."
I should have left. Should have respected their privacy as Thane and Zephyr had respected mine during my first moments with Kaia. But something held me rooted—some primitive, possessive instinct I thought I'd mastered.
Through the narrow opening, I watched Zephyr's hand—always so precise, so controlled—tremble slightly as he brusheda curl from Kaia's face. The tenderness in the gesture struck deeper than any blade. When she leaned into his touch, eyes closing in perfect trust, something inside me fractured.
It wasn't the prospect of physical intimacy between them that twisted my gut. It was the connection I witnessed—intellectual, emotional, something beyond the primal claiming I understood. Something I couldn't give her with my limited vocabulary of rage and protection.
I fled before they could discover my presence, retreating to the highest point of our sanctuary to wrestle my demons into submission through the long night.
Now, as early light creeps across the mountain peaks, I still feel the jagged edges of that fracture within me. The possessive rage simmers just beneath my careful control, threatening to boil over at the slightest provocation.
A scout returns—one of the mountain foxes I've enlisted through ancient pacts to watch our perimeter. It communicates through impressions rather than words: dark elf movement to the south, purna energies gathering to the east. Our enemies draw closer. We have perhaps three days before their forces arrive in strength.
I should return to the sanctuary, share this intelligence with the others. Prepare our defenses. Focus on survival rather than the jealousy eating at my core.
The main chamber is empty when I enter, early morning light streaming through cleverly concealed apertures in the stone ceiling. I move toward the central hearth, rekindling the fire with a gesture. The flames respond to my agitated state, leaping higher than intended, crackling with barely contained energy.
"Your control slips."
I turn sharply at Thane's voice. He stands in the passage leading to the sleeping chambers, arms crossed over his massive chest, crimson eyes assessing me with uncomfortable insight.
"The scouts report movement," I reply, ignoring his observation. "Dark elves from the south. Purna to the east. Three days, perhaps less."
Thane nods, accepting the tactical information without comment on my obvious deflection. He moves to the rough stone table where our maps are laid out, studying the terrain with a warrior's eye.
"We should move deeper into the mountains," he suggests. "There's a network of caves beyond the high ridge that would provide better defensive positions."
"And trap us more thoroughly if those positions fail." I join him at the table, focusing on strategy to calm the turmoil within. "We maintain our current position. The approach is more accessible but gives us better escape routes if needed."
"If you believe that's best." His tone carries no challenge, yet something in his easy acquiescence grates against my raw nerves.
"You disagree?"
His gaze shifts from the map to my face, studying me with the same tactical assessment he'd given the terrain. "About our defensive position? No. About whatever has you radiating hostility like a wounded waira? Absolutely."
I turn away, jaw clenched. "Focus on the threat that matters."
"I am." He steps closer, undeterred by my obvious warning signs. "You're coiled tighter than a spring trap, Ravik. I can smell the rage pouring off you. What happened?"
"Nothing that concerns you."
"Anything that affects our commander concerns me." His hand lands on my shoulder, a gesture meant to conveysolidarity that instead triggers every territorial instinct I've been suppressing.
I react without thought, spinning to knock his hand away with enough force to send him staggering back. "Do not touch me."
Instead of responding with matching aggression, Thane straightens slowly, his expression calculating. "This isn't about me."
"Your powers of observation remain unmatched," I growl, regretting the confrontation even as I fail to defuse it.
"It's about Kaia." He watches my reaction carefully. "And Zephyr."
The names together send a fresh surge of possessive rage through me. My wings flare involuntarily, talons extending from my fingertips in primal threat display.
