Close Quarters
758 Words
(Lira's POV)
The cave smelled like wet wolf and trouble.
Not that I was sniffing.
Okay, maybe I was sniffing. But only because Kael's scent was everywhere—clinging to the damp stone walls, mixing with the petrichor from the storm, saturating the air until it filled my lungs with every reluctant breath. Pine needles and something darker, something that made the hair on my arms stand up.
I stabbed my dagger into the dirt between my knees. Then pulled it out. Then stabbed it again.
Across the fire, Ryn raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
"Peachy."
Kael, the bastard, was lounging against the far wall like some kind of disgraced prince, sharpening his claws on a whetstone. The firelight played across the hard planes of his chest, glinting off the silver scars that marked him as both survivor and killer. He hadn't put his shirt back on after the fight. Probably on purpose.
I looked away.
Bad move.
Because now my traitorous eyes were tracing the way his muscles flexed as he shifted, the way his low-slung pants clung to his—
Dagger. Dirt. Stab.
(Kael's POV)
She was watching me.
Not with her eyes—those stormcloud-silver eyes were fixed stubbornly on her blade—but with every tight line of her body. I could feel it in the way the air thickened between us, in the way her scent spiked when I rolled my shoulders.
Ryn coughed pointedly.
I ignored him.
The storm outside had settled into a steady rhythm, rain drumming against the cave mouth in a tempo that matched the restless pulse in my veins. Lira's hair was still damp from our mad dash to shelter, the black strands curling wild around her face. She looked like something out of the old stories—the kind of warrior queen who'd carve out your heart and make you thank her for the privilege.
My wolf stirred.
Mine.
(Jarek's POV)
This was hell.
Absolute, unrelenting hell.
I poked at the fire like it had personally offended me. "We should take watches. In case the patrol doubles back."
Lira nodded sharply. "I'll take first watch."
"Like hell," Kael said without looking up.
Her head snapped toward him. "Excuse me?"
He finally met her gaze, golden eyes glinting. "You're dead on your feet, princess."
"I could still kick your ass."
His lips curved. "Prove it."
(Ryn's POV)
Oh, this was too good.
I stretched out on my bedroll, lacing my hands behind my head. "Jarek and I will take first watch. You two... work out your issues." I waggled my eyebrows. "Or don't."
Lira's growl could've curdled milk.
(Lira's POV)
The moment they left—Ryn with that infuriating smirk, Jarek with the air of a man walking to his execution—the cave shrunk by half.
Kael was on his feet before I could blink, prowling toward me with that lazy, predatory grace that set my teeth on edge. I stood to meet him, refusing to let him loom.
Bad idea.
Because now we were chest to chest, close enough that I could see the flecks of amber in his eyes, close enough to count the scars that crisscrossed his collarbones. His breath ghosted over my lips, warm and teasing.
"You're staring, princess."
I lifted my chin. "You're in my space."
His smile was all teeth. "You like it."
I didn't deny it.
The realization hit us both at the same time—a sharp inhale, a shared heartbeat where neither of us moved. His gaze dropped to my mouth. My claws pricked his hips where I'd somehow grabbed hold of him.
The fire popped.
We sprang apart like scalded cats.
(Kael's POV)
Fuck.
I turned toward the cave wall, gripping the stone until my knuckles ached. This was worse than the Rivening madness, worse than any wound I'd ever taken. Wanting her was like trying to hold back the tide—useless and inevitable.
Behind me, Lira's breathing was uneven.
I could still feel the imprint of her fingers on my skin.
(Outside the Cave)
Ryn leaned against a rain-slick boulder, grinning at the starless sky. "Five minutes. That's all it took."
Jarek groaned. "I hate you both."
(Later - The Witching Hour)
The storm had quieted to a whisper when the howls started.
Close. Too close.
Lira was at my side before the last echo faded, her body tense with readiness. For one fractured moment, we stood shoulder to shoulder, listening to the hunt drawing nearer.
Her fingers brushed mine.
Neither of us pulled away.
- Writer
