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“Don’t leave…,” he continued, “I apologize for my impulsive behaviour. The last thing I would want to do is offend you.”
I found myself hesitating and my anger diminishing. Something whispered in the back of my mind.
He might lead you to Nakoa.
Admittedly, the male before me was remarkably pleasing to look at… Not beautiful in the way of perfection… But in a darkly intimidating, rough around the edges way. His dark brown hair was a tumbled mess of thick waves that reached for the black arches of his eyebrows. One of which had a thick scar that ran through it. Thick, long, black eyelashes framed his dark umber eyes, reminding me of rich volcanic soil.
Potentially even delicate in the past, his nose had the distinct look of having been broken many times before. His lips were full, and another considerable scar ran through them, from the apple of his high cheekbone to his chin. His jaw was hard and covered in closely shaved scruff.
His broad frame commanded attention with wide sculpted shoulders. His chest visible despite the billowy linen shirt that failed to hide it. The laces at the front worn loose and untied, gifting anyone near eye level with his chest- like me, for example- with a delicious sliver of tan, scarred, and tattooed skin.
Dark, fitted trousers were tied low on his narrow hips and hugged long, muscular thighs. Knee high boots were snug against thickly muscled calves.
He smelled distinctly of that specific scent that hung heavy in the air before a thunderous rain… Ozone… As if he spent a lot of time in the clouds.
Something deep within me buried long ago, seemed to shift and rise and peek its eyes open.
Gross.
“Have one drink with me…”
Before I could think better of it, I gave a subtle nod, and he ushered me towards the bar, where we joined a long line.
“May I have your name?” He asked with sudden politeness. Entirely contrasted the intensity he was studying me with. His gaze felt like it was stripping me naked, baring all the most deeply hidden parts of myself. It made me wary.
“Mareina.”
I don’t know why I’d given him my real name. Inevergave any of Zurie’s targets my real name. But it had slipped out without a conscious thought.
His dark brows pinched, still studying me in that intrusive way.“Mareina…,”he repeated thoughtfully, savoring its flavor.
“And yours?”
His lips tilted upwards with surprising warmth.
“Nakoa.”
My breathing stilled, though I managed to effectively disguise it. His ears were pointed, like the fae, and if it weren’t for the magic oozing off of him from beneath his glamor, I’d have assumed he was just that. However, I could very clearlyscentandfeelthat there was something else… Somethingmore. Zurie had said he was half-human, half-fae, but… that felt…wrong.My senses were significantly more acute than most others. Of what, outside fae, I couldn’t be sure… The glamor was the best I’d ever seen. EvenIcouldn’t see what lay behind it.
More often than not, I found glamors glaringly false. It was like looking at someone through a lens that constantly blurred and shifted. Gifting me with a headache if my eyes lingered for too long. But Nakoa's was crystal clear. I could simplyfeelthat it was there. And that the bulk of his magic was hiding behind it… Like an enormous dam holding back the deluge of a rushing river.
Neither of us uttered the standard, banal pleasantries, such as ‘pleasure to meet you’. Instead, his hand embraced mine for longer than what could be deemed unintentional. That lingering touch caused a knee-jerk reaction in me that had me snatching back my hand, fisting it at my side to push the sensation away. His brow dipped, softening his features briefly as though in understanding… Like he could read me like a book. And it made me want to run in the other fucking direction.
Thankfully, he mentioned nothing of it.
“You’re not from here…”
“No… Bastrina.”
“Your family is from there?” He asked, eyes searching mine as if he were digging around for something I wasn’t sure existed.
“No…”
“... No?”
“My father is originally from Hades… My mother was fromSangui Reinum.”
Blood Realm.Where the sanguinity originated, though many had sought exile here…
