15 - Agreement
1578 Words
The sheets were tangled, the scent of burned spices and sweat still clinging to the air—remnants of their last chaotic stop in the kitchen before they finally made it to his bed.
Elise lay on her side, one leg draped lazily over Vael’s. His fingers trailed soft, distracted patterns over the bare skin of her back, but his gaze was fixed on the ceiling, where faint shadows flickered from the low fire across the room.
She didn’t speak. Neither did he.
But this time, silence didn’t feel like a minefield.
It felt like… a truce.
“You know,” Vael murmured, finally breaking it, “for someone who threatened to kill me the first time we met, you’re very comfortable in my bed.”
She arched an eyebrow, lips brushing the side of his throat. “For someone who claimed not to trust me, you let me fall asleep beside your knives.”
“I didn’t say I trust you.” He rolled to his side, hovering over her now, voice low. “I said I like the way you look when you’re dangerous.”
Elise smirked, though the expression faded quickly as reality returned like a tide pulling at her ribs.
Vael felt it, the shift in her breath. The quiet that meant she was slipping away into her thoughts again.
He sat up, running a hand through his dark hair before reaching for the shirt draped over the bedpost. “I’ll be gone for a week.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Business. Some of it clean, most of it not. But I’ll use it as cover while I look into the names you gave me.” He stood, the runes along his spine flickering briefly as the moonlight kissed his skin. “And I’ll get us invitations to the auction.”
Elise pulled the covers tighter around her, watching him with something like caution—and something else, quieter. Unspoken.
She didn’t like goodbyes.
Especially not with him.
“I thought you said it’d be dangerous to move so fast,” she said carefully.
“It is,” he replied, buttoning his shirt. “But I think it’s more dangerous to let them think we’ve forgotten. They’ll be more careless that way.”
She nodded slowly. “And you’ll be gone the whole week?”
“Unless someone tries to kill me,” he said lightly. “Then I might need a few extra days.”
“Funny.”
He crossed to her side of the bed and leaned down, bracing himself on the mattress. “I’ll be back before the real vultures start circling.”
She frowned. “Vael…”
He silenced her with a kiss—slow and deep, the kind that tasted like promises neither of them knew how to keep.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead to hers. “Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone, kitten.”
Elise closed her eyes. “How can you say that?”
“Because you never listen.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already standing again, sliding his weapons into his coat one by one with mechanical precision.
The room felt colder now.
More distant.
She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her and watched as he fastened the last clasp. “And if I need you?”
His hand paused over the final dagger, then dropped.
“You won’t.” His eyes flicked to her, silver and unreadable. “But if you do… just whisper my name.”
Elise’s heart gave a traitorous stutter.
“Vael—”
He crossed the room in two steps, gripped her chin, and kissed her again—this time rougher, edged with something desperate.
When he finally pulled away, his voice dropped into something dangerously soft.
“Be careful, sweetie.”
And then, like smoke in wind, he was gone.
Only the cold side of the bed and the whisper of his scent remained.
The moment she returned to base, the world shifted.
The air was colder than before—less forgiving. Like the building itself sensed she’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow that painted sharp shadows beneath her eyes. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor, too loud, too heavy. The scent of metal and oil clung to the air, familiar and suffocating.
Soren was already waiting in the main corridor.
He stood perfectly still—arms crossed, back straight, jaw tight with whatever he wasn’t saying. His uniform was still dusty from the field, his sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises of their last mission. His eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped through the door.
She barely had time to breathe before he spoke.
“Did you visit the one who can check your powers?”
His voice was quiet. Too quiet.
But there was a storm beneath it—coiled tension, the kind that burned just before it cracked the sky.
Elise blinked once. Carefully. “No.”
His brow twitched. Just slightly. Enough to betray what he was holding back.
“No?”
“I had another plan.”
The lie slipped out before she could think.
Too smooth. Too familiar. Even to her own ears, it sounded rehearsed.
Soren’s eyes narrowed. His gaze sharpened like a blade honed on instinct.
“You always have another plan,” he muttered, voice tight, almost bitter. He turned his head away, dragging a hand through his hair with a sharp exhale. “One that gets you deeper into this mess.”
She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
Her heart was still thundering—not from guilt, but from memory. From the wind on that rooftop. From Vael’s hand on her jaw, his lips on her skin.
From the damnable way he said her name like it was his.
Elise flexed her fingers at her sides, grounding herself.
Soren didn’t press—not yet. But the silence between them said enough. He didn’t believe her. Not fully. Maybe not at all.
He jerked his head toward the common room. “C’mon. You look like you need a drink.”
The bottle between them was half-empty by the time the tension softened.
They sat on opposite ends of a low table, the room dim and edged in warmth. The soft glow of amber lights pooled across Soren’s face, painting shadows beneath his eyes. Around them, muted voices drifted from the hall—other soldiers, returning from patrols, unaware of the powder keg slowly burning at the center of the room.
Outside, night clung to the windows like a second skin. The city beyond was a blur of neon lights and distant thunder.
Soren leaned back, one arm draped across the back of the worn leather couch, glass in hand. His expression was finally starting to relax—the corners of his mouth lifting into something not quite a smile.
“So there I was,” he said, lifting his drink in a slow gesture, “face-to-face with this thing—eight eyes, fangs like spears. It had already taken down three of our scouts.”
Elise arched a brow, taking a sip of her drink. “And you thought, ‘Perfect time to punch it in the face’?”
Soren smirked. “Didn’t think. Just reacted.”
He winced as he leaned forward slightly, rubbing his side like he could still feel the hit. “In hindsight, maybe not the best idea.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t tear you in half.”
“It tried.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a fresh scar that cut jagged and angry across his forearm. “You should’ve seen the thing’s face when I jammed a plasma knife into its gut.”
Elise let out a small, genuine chuckle. It slipped out before she could stop it.
“You’re always half-dead and too smug about it.”
Soren chuckled too—richer this time, like the air between them had finally started to thaw.
“And you,” he said, voice softer now, “are always carrying the world like it owes you answers.”
Her smile faltered. Just a little. A c***k in the armor.
She looked down at her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light.
“Maybe it does,” she murmured, just above a whisper.
Soren leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching her closely. There was no teasing in his expression now. Just quiet concern. And something else, buried deeper.
“Whatever you’re chasing, Elise… don’t let it swallow you.”
Her gaze flicked up. Their eyes locked.
And for a moment, she saw the version of him that still believed she could be saved. The version that remembered who she’d been before all this—before the missions, before the betrayals, before him.
She swallowed hard.
“I’ll try not to.”
But even as the words left her lips, they tasted like smoke.
Because she could still feel Vael’s touch on her throat. The velvet edge of his voice as he whispered her name.
The way he looked at her like she was both a weapon and a wound.
And Soren—sitting across from her, trying so hard to be steady—had no idea that everything was already unraveling.
Not yet.
Some truths weren’t ready to be shared.
And some debts could only be paid in blood.
- Writer
