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Jude just shook his head, but a wry smile tugged at his lips. “You just say and do whatever you want, don’t you?”
“Life is too damn depressing not to find joy anywhere you can. I learned that the hard way in Cila.” I swiped at my hair, allowing the residual water to slick back the coppery strands. “And as far as speaking my mind”—I paused to raise a brow—“why waste precious time with word games when we don’t have all that much left?”
Jude lifted his gaze, a mischievous sparkle in his brown eye. Without warning, he dove right into the water, his face and shoulders fully submerged.
I smiled, my grin turning into riotous laughter when he surfaced for air, shaking his black strands like a wet dog.
He beamed, a full and genuine smile making a rare appearance. “All right, yes. That was surprisingly needed. Perhaps you’re right. Aboutsomethings,” he clarified.
“See? Live a little, commander.”
That impish look of his returned, and even his scars seemed to shimmer. I noticed how in the Mist, the raised bumps appeared more intense, the faint red turning a deeper maroon.
I hadn’t taken off my gloves since Jude had inadvertently yanked the left one off during the attack. While I found his scars intriguing, beautiful even, mine hardly could compare. They were dark and ugly and reminded me of the prickly underbrush we trudged through. They reminded me of the Mist.
Before I could even process what he intended, Jude sent a cascade of water flying through the air, the chilled water splashing across my cheeks.
I sputtered, blinking away the falling droplets clinging to the tips of my lashes. Thoughts of my own scars vanished, and I shot him an incredulous look.
“Did you just splash me?”
I was a complete disaster right about now, but I couldn’t care less. Not as the most indecent dimples appeared on either side of his mouth. My heart thumped in my ears.
“I’m going to kill you,” I vowed.
Jude only smiled more. I wasn’t sure what was more surprising—that Jude possessed a playful side, or that he was sharing it with me.
Flattening my hand and skimming the top of the water, I returned the favor, giggling like a fool as it soaked his devilish face. His grin never faltered.
Jude snorted. “That went right up my nose.” He ran long fingers through his black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Of course, he managed to look even more handsome, whereas I likely resembled a drowned rat.
His eyes locked on mine, his throat bobbing. All the playful teasing was wiped away, replaced by a scorching look that prompted a prickling warmth to pool in my belly. My gaze briefly fell to his mouth.
“Payback, dear commander,” I taunted, covering up the fact that he’d disarmed me with a single stare. And here I’d thought only weapons and fists could destroy me.
A slight breeze picked up, playing with his dark locks, the pieces flying into eyes that turned cloudy and fiery all at the same time. I needed to look away, to fracture the spell Jude had placed on me.
I was Kiara Frey, and I could kick ass like it was my job, yet here I stood, rendered immobile by this enigmatic commander.
“Kiara,” Jude whispered, my name like a song on his full lips. He leaned closer—close enough that I could feel his breath tickle the tip of my nose. My lips parted on their own, inhaling the air that left his body in short, quivering pants. Time itself stood still, as did my heart. “There’s something I should tell you—”
But he never got to finish his thought.
A branch crunched in the distance, and Jude jerked back, rising to his full height. He brought his index finger to his lips, the muscles in his neck tightening.
On unsteady limbs, I rose, searching all of the brittle white for what I prayed to be a rather large rabbit. Or—however naive the thought—maybe it was Alec, Patrick, and Jake finally catching up with us.
Naturally, it was neither.
Chapter Thirty
Kiara
Some of the sun priestesses believe that while Raina has left our realm, her magic remains, for how else would crops and trees grow? If there is still life, there is hope.
Excerpt from Asidian Lore: A Tale of the Gods
A cluster of masked men catapulted from across the narrow stream, jagged spears fashioned from white trees in their gloved hands. They roared as they advanced, not caring that their voices echoed.
