Chapter twenty - Another murderer!

My brows pucker together, not saying a word while staring at...Darius.

Such an ordinary name. Why did I think it'd be any different? Did I just adopt the idea that his name was simply Golden Thief, or did I not want to believe he could be normal?

"You can stop covering your eyes now, Tibith," he drawls, his eyes on me, burning in gold under the beam of moonlight.

Tibith lowers his hands, blinking as he looks at the shifter and the blood-stained sword in my hands. Gasping, he points at me. "She killed him Gold—Gold—den Thief!"

I glare. He was going to bite me!

Darius hums in amusement, the corner of his lips curling up to show that carefree smile. "She knows my name now, Tibith. I don't think there's a need for any formalities."

"Does that mean I can call you Darry again?" Tibith asks, hopeful, his large ears flapping rapidly as Darius nods, looking up at me.

"So... Aren't you going to thank me then, Venator? I did just save you."

I straighten, cautious, with the sword prominent by my side. "Why did you do it?" Stubborn as per to thank him for that. His arrogance and constant smiles make me not want to.

The noises and screams start dying down, but Darius's gaze roots me on the spot, a humorous speck of light in his features. And though it looks as if he's going to explain, he never does as he snaps his head to the side and catches an arrow right before it strikes his head.

I follow where the arrow had come from and find—

"Lorcan," I whisper.

He's there at the entrance of the street, armor shredded at the sides and jaw set firm as his narrowed stare on Darius turns severe. Nocking another arrow, he aims it again, firing one after another as he walks with stealth towards him.

Air draws out of me, watching Darius snatch each one, his playful smile promising trouble.

"It's another murderer!" Tibith yells in panic, curling up into a ball and rolling in circles just as Lorcan abandons the bow and arrows, lunging at Darius. They both slam onto the ground, sending a jolt of shock in me as Darius throws his arms up, shielding himself from Lorcan's hits.

Tibith knocks into barrels, rocketing towards Lorcan as if flames spread in his wake from the speed.

I have to do something, I have—

A screech, like a squawking crow, jerks me to the right as another shifter launches himself at me. He swings his arm around, and I duck, coming under him as I twist, curving the sword into the back all the way through to the other side.

He yelps, collapsing, giving me a clear view of Lorcan and Darius tackling each other. But as I rush over to them, Darius shoots a flame from his palm, startling Lorcan, and elbows him across the face, causing him to fall onto his side.

As Darius gets off the floor, he murmurs something low enough that I can't hear. I figure it'd be one of his irritating comments with that grin of his.

He whistles at Tibith to stop his kicks towards Lorcan's boots, and I shoot Darius an irked expression before running up and kneeling to grab Lorcan's arm.

"Are you hurt?" Lorcan asks, propping himself up on his elbow and scanning my face. I shake my head, sheathing my sword as my breaths come in and out too shallow for it to be normal. Looking up, I find Darius and Tibith no longer there, save for the attack lessening with cries.

That's the closest Lorcan had gotten with the Golden—Darius. He'd told me of the moment he faced him, and Darius threw that spear through his chest.

Now... despite Darius strangling one of his own kind and a powerful shifter, I wonder if he was caught off guard this time.

"Darius," I say absentmindedly, staring into the dark alleys of the city. "The Golden Thief—that's—that's his name."

When Lorcan doesn't answer, I slide my gaze to him. His expression is unclear as he pins his lips together. It's hard to know what he wants to say, and even worse, as padding of footsteps echoes the narrow streets, and I whip my gaze to the shifter charging our way.

Alarmed and knowing my blades are scattered elsewhere, I go for the next best thing. My sword wouldn't be fast enough to hit her, so I scramble to get the bow and arrowheads at the side of us.

Nocking one, I whirl, aiming astute. I'm still on the floor with Lorcan behind me as I draw the arrow back and release it just in time as she shoots a shadow blade from her hands.

It strikes her heart, and I expel a breath of alleviation or worry. Either feel far too similar right now.

"Nara," Lorcan grunts in a low tone, a pained one that triggers a sense of dread in my gut as I look at him.

He's clutching the left side of his chest, and slowly, it hits me.

Red, darkened blood leaks down from his hand, not anyone else's, not mine, his.

I'd managed to dodge the shadow magic from that shifter, but in the process, it'd struck Lorcan.

I drop the bowstring, alarm settling in as I stop him from falling unconscious. "Shit, shit, shit," I whisper, pressing my hand onto where he is. Blood now soiling my fingers. "We need to get you back to the infirmary, we need—"

"It's not deep. It'll be fine," he says with labored breaths while attempting to stand. I rise with him and grab onto his side as he sways.

"I don't believe that," I mutter, lifting his arm over my shoulder and start down the street as shifters begin retreating.

***

The barracks—an absolute madness as I stagger trying to keep Lorcan upright against my shoulder while everyone heads to the infirmary. Some drag in unconscious Venators, and others, I can hear the screams of pain through the other side of the room.

"My chambers," Lorcan breathes. "Take me there."

I let my gaze slip to meet his staring down at me, weak and flickering. I'm hesitant to agree, but with the number of injured people crowding the infirmary, I huff, directing us to the staircases by the entrance.

At that second, I turn, Freya tumbles in with Link and Rydan. Soot covers them head to toe, yet I almost cry out in relief that they'd made it back unharmed.

Freya notices me, eyes widening, when she spots Lorcan by my side. She mouths the words 'go,' and I nod at the reassurance of her smile.

I push Lorcan and me towards the stairs, tiring out by the time we get to the higher levels of the barracks and burst into his chambers. Kicking the door closed, I let go as he drops onto the edge of his bed. "There's some neem paste in the cabinets. It'll help the healing," he says, inclining his head to the bath chambers.

I nod, still thinking the infirmary was a better option than here. I've only cured injuries on myself or Illias and Iker. Idris usually handled all his wounds himself, taking his pride along with him.

Searching the cabinets, I can't process anything that'd happened tonight. I can't even think straight or clarify my head as I fill up one of the wooden bowls with water and find a jar of half-empty green neem paste.

By the time I walk out with the equipment in my hands, Lorcan had stripped the top half of his armor. I stop and glance at his upper torso on display, lean and sheening with sweat.

Heart freezing and mind struck with the sight, I shake my head and stroll over to him. He glances up through his lashes as I stop in front of him, his legs parted as he presses his palms at the sides of the bed.

My eyes zero in on his chest but what surprises me is the scar on his right, twin to what now is bleeding after that shadow blade.

"I'd used a spear on him, but his reflexes were stronger. He grabbed it mid-air, broke it in half, and threw it before it pierced my armor, my chest, and all through to the other side."

Lorcan had said it that night outside in the gardens. And while I'd seen how Lorcan was fast, agile like no other, Darius's reflexes were far too good, and this scar is the repercussion of that.

I avoid staring at the circular mark for long and wedge myself between his thighs, reluctant in doing so as I dip the cloth into the bowl. Lorcan's stare doesn't help the affiliation of awareness as to what position I am in right now. Which is why I look away and begin cleaning the wound. His silence eases around the room as his body jerks slightly whenever I dab the cut.

Annoyingly, he was right, it's not deep enough, but he'd lost a vast amount of blood. I drop the cloth back into the bowl, placing it on the floor before grabbing the neem and swiping two fingers into the thickening paste.

"I can do it—" Lorcan winces when I slabber it on regardless and then manages a slight chuckle. "Always so brute, Nara."

"I don't care." My tone is sharp though my sigh shows the concern tugging low within. "You're hurt."

With a murmur, he says, "I didn't think you'd worry this much."

"I'm not." I try to find the strength in my voice, but there is none when I can't seem to lie.

He doesn't say anything to that. We don't say anything for a while, but I know he's looking at me... staring at every movement of my hand.

I inhale once I'm done, knowing I have to step back, yet I can't.

Setting the vial aside on the bed, I wipe any neem residue on the cloth. My gaze then wonders to the scar. Surprisingly on the other side, he looks to be healing well enough already. But that scar.

Drawn to it this time, my fingers reach out to caress the corners, the red pigment contrast to the rose tint of his skin.

"Nara," he grinds out as if my touch scalds him, but I don't stop. I focus on the way the oil lamps burn bright, and sweat trickles down his forehead.

My breath shakes, sliding my fingers away from his scar to the hard muscle of his abdomen. I flicker my gaze to his lips, betrayed by how close I am to him... inches away.

Allowing myself to pry my eyes from the sharp curves of his cupids bow, I stare at him.

I can't look away this time. No matter how much I want to, I'm tangled in the branches of his forest gaze.

He's breathing hard.

I'm breathing hard.

And for the second, he's staring at my lips. The next, they're on mine, swallowing my small gasp.

I'm frozen, unsure of what to do. My eyes are still open as he goes slow, parting my lips with his own, and shivers of what I've never felt before run down my legs. He knows this is new to me, but as if a natural urgency takes over my body, my eyes close, melting into him.

He lifts me and places me on his lap. My legs come at each side of him just as his hand curves around my back and the other slides to the nape of my neck. My palms travel to his chest, aware of his wound, letting him tense beneath me and what was gentle about the kiss ceases to exist as his tongue glides along the bottom of my lip, causing me to tremble.

Everything I'd thought of what my first kiss could be like didn't prepare me for how my body reacts, how I crave more and more as he tilts his head. I push further against him, taking my hands off him only to dive them into his hair.

My pulse flickers with trepidation at the unknown, and at every minute, his fingers caress my thick, full curves.

I'd not once had anything to compare this to. Any man that'd approached, I'd send them away without a second thought.

But Lorcan is the first and only person I want to feel, experience, and get lost in something awakening inside me.

He whispers my name more times than I can count. A yearning in the syllables, Na-ra, sends a pulse of heat to every part of me, causing a sigh to come from my lips against his.

"I think kissing you has healed me completely," he says, his palms skimming along my thighs.

My eyes still closed, I breathe a laugh, mid-kiss. "Maybe it's time we stop then." I don't want to stop. I don't want to stop ever.

He shifts my body closer to him that our hips join, and I can swear a groan escapes him. "I don't think I want to—" He kisses me again."—But then you, here on top of me, isn't helping what else I'd like to do."

"And what's that else?" Experienced or not, I knew enough for that else to mean things beyond a kiss. Yet I want to hear it from him. Feel him like I can right now.

His lips curve into a smile over mine. "If—"

The door to the chamber hits against the wall just then, and my eyes fly open. Abruptly, I pull back, stumbling away from Lorcan and covering myself as if I were the one shirtless when I wasn't. Not at all.

My face pales as I look at the door where the General keeps a firm grip on the doorknob.

He saw me on top of Lorcan, he walked in on— "Sorry I—" Shame floods me at how I'd let myself go for the second time since that night I was also in here.

The General snaps his head to me, staring long and without a word leaving his lips.

"Erion," Lorcan addresses him, not as the General and not as someone of authority. But the General doesn't even sneak a glance his way.

"I'd advise you get back to your chambers, Ambrose." A muscle in his jaw flexes.

I cut my gaze from the General to Lorcan as he closes his eyes and exhales a frustrated sigh. Biting my tongue, I slowly look back, realizing there's no winning against the General, and Lorcan wouldn't—won't defy him.

The General doesn't budge from the doorway, but I maintain a fixed stare on him as I walk past and out of the chambers, with the memory of the kiss still on my lips.