Page 31 of Returned to the Vissigroth
"Well, I suppose amnesia has one perk then," I smirked, "I don't remember being afraid."
A low chuckle rose through his chest. The vibration was stronger even than the rattling of the cage we were locked in. It stirred something in me, something low and molten and completely out of place, given the circumstances—I surprised myself that I didn't care about those right now. It coiled in my belly, warm and sharp and dangerously alive. And I was sure that it wasn't nerves because of the descent.
It was because ofhim.Because of the way his presence seeped into me like heat into cold metal, slow and inescapable. Of the way I leaned slightly into his side without meaning to. Of howmy fingers brushed against his belt for balance, and he didn’t pull away.
He was watching me. I could feel it. Even before I looked up again, I knew those eyes were on me—dark and bottomless, etched with memories I couldn’t touch or share and a hunger I didn’t know how to answer.
Yet my body did. Gods, itdid.
Subtly, I shifted in place, too aware of how close we stood in the narrow lift. Too aware of the scent of him, like woods and wind and something uniquelyhim. Of the way his arm wrapped around me like it had always belonged there. Like this was the most natural thing in the world.
“I don’t remember being afraid,” I whispered again, quieter now. “But I do remember this.”
He tilted his head. “This?”
“This…us,” I said, unsure where the words came from, only that they tasted like truth. “Not like a picture or a story. It’s more like… muscle memory. Like my body knows you.”
His expression tightened, but not in pain this time. It was something heavier. He looked at me like I’d just cut the ropes holding him together.
“Your bodydoesknow me,” he said hoarsely. “And I know every inch of yours.”
My lips parted, unbidden, drawn open by the sound of his voice, low and reverent, like a prayer shaped from grief and longing. It wasn’t just what he said… it washowhe said it, like every word had been etched into his soul before it ever reached mine. Something deep within me stirred in response. Not memoriesexactly—not the kind I could name or see. But my body remembered him. The ache of his absence. The pull of his touch. The way his voice slipped under my skin and made my knees weaken, made my breath catch.
It wasn’t my mind reacting. It wasme. All of me. Reaching back for something I hadn’t known I was missing—until now.
The lift creaked slightly as it continued down; the whir of cables and magnetic locks was the only sound in the silence that fell between us. That was charged with tenseness and electricity that reverberated in my blood.
He reached up, and his fingers hovered near my cheek. He wasn't quite touching me. Not yet. In anticipation, I leaned in, just enough that our breath mingled.
Inches. One heartbeat, maybe less.
A metallic grind broke the moment. Red light flickered on the panel beside us as the lift began to slow. I blinked, startled by the abrupt intrusion of reality.
The doors slid open, and neither of us moved. Caught in the lock of our gazes, we stared like it was the first time we had seen each other. It would have been so easy to get lost in the black abyss of his eyes. They were so deep, so magnetic, and filled with so much sorrow, that the need to wrap my arms around him and take it away was nearly overpowering.
Voices from the other side, and the feeling of stares, broke our trance. Mallack cleared his throat, and his hand moved gently to the small of my back to lead me out of the elevator. Four people stood in a cavernous space. Three Leanders and one human. All males, all staring at us with undisguised curiosity.
The male who stepped forward wore dark armor, scuffed with use, but it didn’t disguise the authority in his bearing. He was tall, broad across the shoulders, and older, with a long braid streaked in gray trailing over one shoulder. His pale eyes landed immediately on Mallack. “Vissigroth Mallack,” he said, dipping his chin once in deference. “Welcome. Tovahr called ahead.”
Mallack gave a brief nod in return. “Kavryn.”
I was surprised that they knew each other. Kavryn stepped closer and gave me a curious glance—not disrespectful, just curious. His gaze lingered a second too long on the way Mallack’s arm still hovered near me, protectively.
“And this is—?” Kavryn asked.
“My mate,” Mallack said. “Vissy Daphne.”
That earned a longer look. I met it squarely, as if my body remembered how to behave as a Vissy. Surprise was evident on his face, "Forgive me, Vissigroth, I thought… " he trailed off, unsure how to politely say he thought I had died.
"It's a long story," Mallack dismissed his curiosity with a wave, "let's focus on this." His arm swiped the large, cavernous space.
It was lit up enough not to allow a single shadow into the space, even where the rock had hollowed out, leaving an opening that should have been swallowed by darkness. It almost seemed… like they were afraid of what might be hidden there.
“I see,” Kavryn said, and something unreadable passed across his face. “Come, let me show you.”
The three others moved in closer. A younger male, his skin a little deeper aqua than Mallack's, wearing an engineering harness strapped to his back, gave me a friendly nod. “I’m Jael,”he offered, glancing between me and Mallack with a smile that somehow managed to be both deferential and teasing. “Systems analyst. I mostly keep things from catching fire.”
“Zavahr,” grunted another, arms crossed, his voice deep and dry. He was older than Jael, his clothes dusted with gravel, but his posture was crisp. “I'm an archivist for Zuten history.”
