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So lost was he in her essence, he barely had a second to twist himself away as a SHärd blade whistled past his ear.
It arced around and rippled back to where his chest had been, not less than a millisecond ago.
He whipped his head to find her leaping to her feet, her eyes glowering at him.
Her hair was wild and unruly, and a tangled wave of black framed her face like a mane.
Lean and muscular, her body exuded an alluring and intimidating raw power.
She stalked to him, fearless even as she stared up into his face much higher above her.
He gave the blade, now shimmering in her hand, a narrowed look, his heart kicking as he recognised its form—the same one from his visions.
The koya on his nape stiffened as his form locked.
‘You.’ Her voice was a snarl.
He chose nonchalance. ‘None else.’
Her lips curled. ‘This is no dream.’
He smirked. ‘Nada, it is not. Sorry to be such a disappointment, Shotelai,’ he murmured, turning his eyes to face her silver diamond-flecked cold, cold eyes.
He fobbed off the shiver of warning that stroked through him.
Instead, he gave her a lazy smile, crossing his hands over his massive chest and planting himself, eyes flicking over her face.
‘You’re stalking me.’
‘Don’t think you’ve any fokkin’ moral ground to stand on given you tried to un-alive me not so long ago.’
She lifted a hand as if to thrust her weapon at him once more, and he caught it.
Her touch seared his skin as if she were lit from within. Her grasp had a subtle strength to it, like metal forged in the flames of an aetheric volcano.
He pulled her close and let his hawkstone scan her, delving deep into her psyche even as her blade vibrated with a shimmer of runed warning.
Their breaths met and whirled around each other, and her chest rose and fell against his as he studied the secret recesses of her soul.
‘Despite your moxie, woman,’ he warned in a low rumble, ‘I sense hidden motives. Hear this, shikari. You are either on my side, by my side, or in my fokkin’ way. Choose wisely.’
Her inner mind resisted his hawkstone sweep, her mental walls slamming shut. She sliced her eyes to the grip of his fist over her wrist, so he pulled back and let his hand drop away.
She gave him a blank stare with a cold smile. ‘Nada, you listen here, Kíríga. Never stand in the way of a Shotelai. We are fierce, fearless, and never fall from a kill.’
He sucked his teeth. ‘Stubborn as all fokk, too.’
She flicked her fingers.
He eyed her in fascination as the blade in her hand transmuted in and out of transparency.
Almost like it was made of smoke and light.
‘Vigilant is how I’d describe it. Our blades never miss, and you must sport Kän?dôr sized balls to ghost into this place,’ she clipped.
He chuckled in a low, mirthless laugh. ‘I have every right to be on your ass, given you tried to slice said balls last time we met.’
‘In Shotelai, we have a saying, ‘Don’t let the voices in your head make everything about you.’ It applies in this case, Kíríga,’ she retorted.
