Chapter Eleven
Kadelyn
The bookcase shook beneath us, my body wrapped up in Zawara’s in a perfect dance. I sat atop the shelf, perfectly aligned with my love so he could slide into me.
“Feels like forever since we’ve been in the same room,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. It had probably only been a day or so. The Vithohn had Zawara and Axen at their beck and call since the attack, prepping them. I knew Zawara wanted to win their favor to try and get them on board for raiding what he was calling the final Kilari cave.
After that, he claimed, there would be no more enemies.
I knew that would take some time to convince Tessoul of the danger, so I didn’t complain too much. But I missed him when he was gone.
“I almost got used to the sound of blissful silence,” he said, almost coldly, but the smirk on his face told me he missed me as well.
“Oh stop,” I said playfully, and he stood still, no longer following the rhythmic tune of our bodies. He gave me a daring look, and I rolled my eyes, grabbing him by the backside and encouraging him to continue pumping into me. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” I laughed.
We didn’t have many places to go; I still lived with my parents and Libby, and Zawara hadn’t been given a place of residence. Not yet.
Instead, we had to sneak around like teenagers at mom and dad’s, kissing when someone left the room and sneaking into the recesses of the property to make love when everyone else was asleep.
Tonight, we took it to the dining room. My parents slept like rocks, so I knew they wouldn’t get up in the night or make trouble for us. Libby was usually stuck in her room for the rest of the night as soon as she shut her door, as well.
I spread my legs wider as he slid in and out of me, listening to the small thud of the bookcase rocking against the wall and the books it housed tilting over.
With a grin, I wrapped my legs tighter around Zawara and pulled him closer to me, taking his lips into mine and running my hands up his face.
I really, really had missed him. He’d been… off, these past few days. Distant. I couldn’t tell if that was because the negotiations weren’t going well or if being away from me had changed his mood.
Maybe he really did miss me, I told myself. The thought made me feel like I was glowing.
He grabbed my breast in one hand, massaging it gently. We weren’t stupid enough to remove our clothes in a house full of people, but I could see the marks on him glow as he touched me over my shirt. He was gentle with me now, like a real love would be.
I started to feel nervous all of the sudden, my stomach doing flips as I listened for any noises in my house, listened to see how loud we were being.
“Mmm, almost there,” I said, and Zawara smiled, grabbing my waist and moving deliberately. “Don’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
“Make me cum,” I dared in a whisper, wondering what he might say. My tone was, as always, dull and lifeless, but inside I was hoping he might make some confession—some show or tell of his feelings for me.
He smiled, and I felt goosebumps go everywhere.
My hand found its way between my legs to hurry the process along, massaging myself in circles as Zawara gave shallow thrusts inside me. I gave a whispered moan at the action and could feel myself climaxing.
At that moment, I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved our little house on the lane and how I wanted to live there and make everything right with him.
I wanted to tell him everything he had done for me already. I felt worthy, special… I felt like he would never leave.
I’d never felt that before, from anyone. Not my parents, not Libby, not a guy.
He came right after, and no confessions of love were verbalized—giving in to my cowardice, as always. Instead, it was Zawara tying up his pants and me hopping off the bookshelf and kneeling down in front of it to see if anything looked terribly off-center.
Zawara sat on the dining room chair, looking over at me with affection, and we both jumped in surprise as Libby came in through the front door.
She snuck into the room, making her way toward the staircase and then gasped as she caught sight of us.
“Holy crap, you scared me!” Libby said, batting a hand toward me before throwing it across her head. “What are you doing down there?” she asked, staring down at me, still crouched in front of the bookcase, tilting books right-side.
“Just… grabbing a book,” I said, pulling one quickly from its socket on the shelf. “So! Where have you been?” I taunted, turning toward her.
“With Zake,” she teased back saucily, looking over at Zawara.
He didn’t look at her, which I found odd.
“Naughty girl,” I said with a bemused smile. “You’ll make a man out of him yet.”
“Yeah, but he can’t seem to make a woman out of me,” she said, and it sounded… too flirtatious for my liking, especially with her eyes still drawn to Zawara.
“Well…” I shrugged. “They’ll do that. Give it time before he learns. And I mean, a lot of time,” I chuckled—but she didn’t.
I stood up from the shelf, flopping the book—too loudly—onto the table in front of me. I set a hand on Zawara’s shoulder and suddenly felt the need to be protective, like I should be guarding him or something.
“You guys have a good night?” she asked, cocking a head to Zawara.
He didn’t respond.
“It was fine,” I said, my words coming to a crawl. “You should head up before mom and dad hear you,” I said, knowing that they wouldn’t. “I’ll lock up.”
“’Kay,” she said, finally making eye contact with me and offering a big smile. “Night.”
“Goodnight,” I said and watched her ascend the stairs. Turning back to Zawara, I said, “What was that about?”
“Mm,” he said with a shrug.
“Mm?” I repeated, tilting his face up to mine. “Mm is not an answer.”
“Nope,” he mocked.
I furrowed my brow. “What the hell’s going on?”
“A lot…” his eyes went wide, and he struggled with his hands, seeming unsure how to enunciate with them. “Your sister wanted something from me.”
“Wanted…” I repeated slowly and then looked at him in surprise. He gave an expression that said it all. She didn’t want something from him. She wanted him. “Ah,” I concluded. “And?”
“And, what?” he spat back, suddenly defensive.
I scoffed, suddenly repulsed. “And did you give it to her?”
Zawara pressed his eyes shut in a furious wince and then his eyes shot open. He stood and set his hands on my shoulders. “Why in D’shu’na would I do something like that to you? You’re my chosen. I seek no other.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me about it, either!”
He was oddly silent then. “No, I didn’t.”
“Because?”
“Because…” he began carefully, thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure what she really wanted until yesterday.”
My heart sunk.
“Nah,” I said. “I call B.S. Why? What does that mean you didn’t know what she wanted?”
He exhaled in frustration and began to walk away from me. I marched after him, making a vain attempt to turn him around.
“Yesterday?” I enunciated with rage. “Here I thought you were in some important negotiations. I haven’t even seen you, and yet Libby has been in your circle?”
“You’re getting to be a real pain in my ass, Kidd,” he said, spinning on his heel and towering over me. “It’s complicated. Let it go!”
“I don’t do ‘it’s complicated’” I snapped quietly, holding my ground as he tried to step past me.
“Funny,” he began but seemed to think better of it. The word just hanging there like a hurtful tease.
I raised both my brows, incredulous. “Funny?” I repeated tersely.
“I met Nevir,” he said, his lips slapping shut immediately after the words came out. Like, that said it all. Then he continued, “So, it seems to me like you do ‘it’s complicated’ just fine.”
He went to speak, but I did the thing that girls do and stormed out of the house, ready to teach him a lesson on how to deal with human women.
I thought he would come after me, and when he didn’t, I grew even angrier. Drawn to the first place I could think of that would have a free-flowing supply of alcohol, I ended up at Nevir’s.
Back on the boat. Old familiar. And I was as furious as ever.
“That little bitch,” I exhaled, looking over at Nevir and giving him a ‘come hither’ motion with my finger. I didn’t want his lips; I wanted the shot of whiskey that he was holding hostage in his grip.
Nevir laughed at me, leaning back in his chair and shooting the shot glass across the table. I caught it and downed it promptly, slamming the glass back on the counter with a loud CLACK sound. Then I slapped him across the face.
“Hey!” he said, wincing with a deep laugh.
“Why would you tell Zawara about us?” I seethed, and he just laughed.
“Because he should know who deflowered his sweet chosen. If he is calling you that.”
I scoffed, shaking my head.
“So, who are we talking about now?” Nevir said, nodding his head toward me. “Who’s a bitch?”
I poured myself another shot and sipped half of it, suddenly put off by the burning sensation that it trailed down my chest.
“Libby,” I said with a scoff.
I knew it was wrong to come here, to Nevir’s, but I found myself endlessly drawn to the spot.
He lived on the ship, the same vessel we hosted parties and ceremonies on, the place that was most related to happiness in Rowan. I liked coming here, not necessarily for him, but for the atmosphere. Even when the decks were empty, there was still something comforting about being here.
We listened as the stormy waves crashed against the side of the boat and I watched as Nevir played cards with himself, stopping every so often to sip from his tall glass of peach-colored liquid.
“Fancy that,” he said, not looking up from his card game.
I watched as he played against himself, moving from hand to hand across the table to make the best move.
“She wants Zawara,” I swore.
“No,” he said with mock-surprise and flipped down an ace of spades boredly. While his tone was the usual ambivalence I got from him, I could tell there was some intrigue there. “Did they do the dirty?” he teased with a wicked grin.
“No.” I rolled my eyes, finishing my shot and pouring another. I sat down in the chair across from his circular wooden card table, small enough that we sat just a few feet from one another. I picked up his extra hand of cards and threw two down, taking his cards into my winning pile.
“Nice move,” he said, flicking up a brow and pooling all the cards into the middle of the table before shuffling them, dealing out a new hand to each of us. A fresh start. “How’d you find out?”
“Zawara,” I said.
He wrinkled his nose and drew out a playful but scathing, “Good boy.”
“You’re still on that, huh?” I asked, amused by his jealousy. “Still think he’s a big bad Kilari? Let me ask you this,” I posed, leaning on the table so that whatever I had of cleavage was pushed up by the counter. “Does it scare you?”
He laughed. “Not anymore.”
I blinked, still smiling. “Why’s that?”
“I wasn’t sure what to do about this yet, Kidd, and I didn’t want to tell you until I was absolutely sure.”
“What?” I asked, waiting for his response with baited breath. Then I threw my cards down on the table and said, “What is it? You’re freaking me out.”
He batted me away. “Zawara’s not a Kilari.”
“Well, that’s good news,” I said, trying not to sound too relieved. I never believed that he was… but the sentiment was still enough for me to exhale with relief. The broken spire, the Kilari not attacking him during the battle. Finally, I could feel settled.
“I wouldn’t be so happy about this,” he warned, throwing down a card and waiting for me to reciprocate.
I looked down into my hand and my mind was racing. I tossed down a three of clubs, watching him grin as my foolish move. “Why not?” I finally asked. “I mean… what finally convinced you? My impeccable taste in men?” I teased.
“Hardly,” he snapped, taking another sip of his drink. “I found out.”
“That’s vague,” I laughed. Nevir wasn’t exactly the trusting type.
“Yup,” he said. “Do you know what an Exerott is?”
“Yes.” It was a unique warrior of the Vithohn, evolved over time to be able to sense shapeshifters among them by attaching his spire to the Vithohn in question’s. I widened my eyes. “Why? Nevir, what did you do?”
“Well, ya see, I realized that we had the wrong guy,” he said, tapping his nose and throwing down another card.
I swallowed hard and my eyes flicked through what remained of my good card, flicking another down with just as much haste as before.
“And I realized that when we ambushed your little boyfriend last night.”
“What?” I breathed, unable to find the strength to yell, shaken. “But he doesn’t have a spire?” I said, unsure how the connection would have been made and then wondering which outraged question I should ask next.
“He had enough,” he said with some callous levity.
“Is he alright? Did you hurt him?” I said, starting to get mad now.
“Ah, he’s fine,” he said, waving me off. “So, here’s my theory, Kidd. Zawara’s not a Vithohn. Axen is.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “How do you know?”
“An excellent question. See, they didn’t attack Zawara, not because he was one of them, but because he was with one of them. Already deemed an ally. Soaked with their sludge, a proverbial ‘one of us!’ in the same way that you humans are ‘one of us’ Vithohn here in Rowan. Probably also how they’ve been tracking the Kilari caves all these years. Axen can lead him right to his people.”
I swallowed, feeling woozy. “Why would they do that? Why would Axen kill his own people?”
“Easy,” he said. “Zawara’s giving him something in return. A chance to be a Vithohn.”
Suddenly, it felt like all the air had been drained from my lungs; my chest was a hollow, heavy vessel that I didn’t know how to operate anymore. My eyes widened at the sentiment and then a loud, uncontrollable breath heaved into me.
“He’s a shapeshifter?” I said, suddenly disgusted.
“Yup,” Nevir said with a slight smirk, leaning forward in his chair. “Gives you a lot to question.”
“Like what?” I asked, but I knew he was right.
“Like…” he tempted. “Does your buddy know Axen a Kilari? If he does, why the hell are they working together? Did they orchestrate the attack on Rowan?”
“And if you’re so sure Axen is a Kilari, why wouldn’t you kill him? Why are they still here?” I snapped.
“You know…” he started slowly. “I thought I’d let Tessoul get to him first.” He shrugged. “Heard he’s killed a Kilari or two in his day.”
“You’re just being an asshole,” I breathed, but I knew he wasn’t.
“Ah…” he waved me off. “That’s fine,” he said wryly, pulling the card pile over to his side of the table—the winner. “You’ll find out sooner or later, I’m sure. Because… Zawara tells you everything, right?”