Page 48 of Nansar
Because if I let myself fall for her—truly fall—and she left...
I couldn't think about that. Wouldn't.
There had to be another way out of here. Because if we stayed trapped in this room much longer, with the elder pressuring us and my control fraying at the edges like worn rope...
I didn't know how much longer I could resist.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. Every muscle in my body coiled tight as I moved instinctively closer to where Chloe slept, positioning myself between her and whatever threat might enter. But the scent that drifted through the crack in the door was female—Welati, yes, but carrying none of the aggression I'd come to associate with the warriors.
The door creaked open to reveal a young Welati woman, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor as she carried a tray laden with food. Steam curled invitingly from bowls of what looked like grain porridge, and strips of dried meat were arranged besidefresh bread. She set the tray on the table with trembling hands, her movements quick and nervous, as if she feared I might lunge at her at any moment. Before I could even offer a word of thanks, she scurried back out.
The click of the lock echoed loudly in the morning quiet.
Behind me, Chloe stirred. The rustle of furs whispered through the room, followed by a soft, sleepy groan that did absolutely nothing to help my already tenuous control. Outside our prison, the village was waking—voices calling to one another in their harsh tongue, the clatter of tools being gathered for the day's work, the bleating of livestock. Morning had arrived whether we were ready for it or not.
"Nansar?" Her voice was thick with sleep, adorably groggy in a way that made my heart clench.
I turned to find her sitting up among the furs, her hair a wild halo of tangles around her face, her eyes still heavy-lidded and unfocused. Beautiful. So incredibly beautiful it hurt to look at her. Something in my chest tightened painfully at the sight—an intense protectiveness mingling with desire so intense it threatened to consume me whole.
"Morning," I managed, my voice raspy. I cleared my throat. "They brought food."
She blinked slowly, like a creature waking from a nap, then pushed herself up from the sleeping platform. I tried—gods, I tried—not to watch the way her borrowed dress shifted as she moved, tried not to notice how it had ridden up during the night to expose the smooth, pale skin of her thighs.
I failed. Spectacularly.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I forced myself to look away, to focus on anything other than the overwhelming urge to cross the room and pull her back into those furs with me.
Chloe padded over to the table on bare feet, still rubbing sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. She settled ontothe bench across from me with a soft sigh, reaching for one of the bowls. Only when she went to pull it closer did she pause, her fingers tracing over the surface of the wood with a frown.
"What's this?" she asked, studying the scratches I'd carved into the table's surface throughout the long, sleepless night.
"A map. Or an attempt at one, anyway." I gestured to the crude lines and symbols, suddenly self-conscious about how rudimentary they looked. "I've been trying to draw the layout of the village. Where the guards patrol, how many buildings there are, possible escape routes."
She leaned closer, her brow furrowing in concentration as she studied my work. The movement brought her scent to me—warm and sweet, with that underlying note that made my cock throb. My horns ached with the need to mark her, to make that scent mine in truth.
"Without a window, that must be incredibly difficult," she murmured.
"Nearly impossible," I admitted, frustration bleeding into my tone. "I can hear them moving around outside, track their footsteps and voices, but I can't see the layout. I don't know which direction leads where, how far we are from the village edge, whether there are walls or just scattered dwellings." I dragged a hand through my hair. "I'm working blind."
Chloe was quiet for a moment, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she thought. Then her eyes lit up with sudden understanding, and she reached across the table, her finger hovering over my scratches. "We came in from the east, I think. There was a main path, wider than the others. And buildings on either side—maybe ten or twelve of them that I could see."
Hope sparked in my chest, bright and burning. "What else? Any landmarks? Guard posts?"
"There was a larger structure near the center—not the longhouse we were taken to yesterday, another one. It looked older, more permanent. Storage, maybe?" She closed her eyes, clearly trying to visualize the path. "And there were torches posted at regular intervals along the main path. Eight that I counted, but there might have been more."
I leaned forward, my mind racing as I began to add to the crude map. "Which side was the longhouse on? Left or right?"
"Left, I think. And—"
The door burst open.
We both jumped, Chloe's hand flying to her chest as the Elder swept in like a storm cloud, her expression unreadable. But it wasn't her presence that turned my blood to lava.
It was the two warriors who followed in her wake.
Both were massive, even by Welati standards, their bodies a canvas of scars that told stories of violence and victory. The first had a jagged mark slashing from temple to jaw, the eye on that side milky white and sightless. His good eye—dark and predatory—slid over Chloe with an interest that made something feral rise in my chest, hot and possessive. The second wore a lanyard of bones around his thick neck. Finger bones, I realized with revulsion, strung together like trophies. They clicked with each breath, each movement, a macabre display of death. When his lips pulled back in what might have been a smile, I saw teeth filed to vicious points.
Beside me, Chloe went very still. I could feel the tremor that ran through her small frame break and reform to something furious and possessive.
