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It was foolish of her to lose control of herself in front of a stranger this way—a mortal, no less. If her traitorous body gave out on her, it couldn’t be mere feet away from Mira’s territory.
With her forehead smudged against his chest, she forced out the words from her numbing lips. “Get me out of here.”
3
KAHALE RESIDENCE
Naia peeled her eyes open.
She blinked, and her vision adjusted. A small, round-shaped face gawked down at her with dark eyes and a parted mouth full of purple metal wires across her teeth.
“You’re finally awake.” The little girl pulled back and sat on a chair beside the bed.
Naia registered the pillow underneath her head as she eyed the stranger. “Who are you?”
The girl tilted her head, the way Naia’s youngest brother’s bird used to do when it fixated curiously onto something roaming in the grass. “Akane,” the little girl said. “Who are you?”
Naia flitted her eyes around the room filled with wicker furniture and open windows, inviting in a pleasant breeze. It was daylight, and the air was lighter than the density in Kaimana.
A rusty-colored water-filled bowl and a damp cloth were on the bedside table, and the last few seconds before everything went black rushed back to Naia.
She shot up, pulse jolting, and felt around the cotton material of her outfit with a peculiar pattern of smiling suns wearing sunglasses. Blood scorched her cheeks at the thought of that dreadful man changing her outfit.
“Those are my mom’s pajamas. She changed your clothes. In case you were wondering. Not my uncle. She also cleaned you up.” The little girl pointed her brightly orange painted fingernail to the bowl of dirty water.
“Where am I?” Naia asked.
Akane scooted up in her seat, her big, brown eyes scrutinizing Naia.
Naia leaned back, uncomfortable with the child invading her space.
“You’re pretty,” Akane said, as an observation rather than a compliment. “Why are you so pretty?”
Of course. She hadn’t hidden her divinity. Between it being on full display and the comment she made about the man only being a mortal, it was no wonder he’d become suspicious of her during their encounter.
Naia clicked her tongue and crossed her arms, attempting to play it off. “I have an exceptional skin-care routine.”
“And I have a personal hairstylist.” Akane snorted. “You’re not fooling me, lady.”
Naia blinked at the little girl, baffled by her candor.
“It’s also not nice to lie,” Akane said. “My mom says it causes wrinkles. Not only that, but my uncle saved you when he could’ve just left you where he found you.”
Naia’s eyebrows shot up. “Where he found me?”
More like snuck up on her.
“Yeah, he could’ve just left you in the rainstorm.” Akane tilted her head, the motion slipping pieces of her black hair over her cheek. “What were you doing out there in the storm, anyway?”
Naia grazed over her question and asked, “Could you kindly inform me of my location?”
“The Kahale residence,” a deep voice replied from across the room.
Naia turned her head. The man leaned on the trim of the doorway, expression as smooth as a river stone. The length of his black hair sat above his shoulders, and half was pulled up with strands spilling in his face.
“And you are?” Naia squared him with a bold stare.
He had yet to answer the question—even with Wren’s pointed edge at his throat.
