“I’m flattered you’re sceptical,” Calythra says, his grin widening again. “Don’t let the looks fool you. I might appear young, but I’m more than capable.”
“You’re what? A teenager?”
“Close enough,” he replies with a shrug. “But I’ve been training since before you were born. Don’t let the baby-face trip you up.”
“Baby-face?” I mutter under my breath, still trying to wrap my head around him.
Calythra leans closer, his big blue eyes unblinking, and I fight the urge to step back. “You don’t trust me yet. That’s okay. But I’m telling you now, Jack, Jamie’s going to be just fine with me. And Tahrionne? He’s a ghost when he wants to be. We’ll get your kid and keep him safe. Promise.”
There’s an odd sincerity in his tone that catches me off-guard. Despite his playful demeanour, there’s a sharpness to him, a confidence that feels earned rather than forced. And his English? I have no idea how he speaks it so well, but it’s impressive.
“Why are you so sure you can handle this?” I ask, my voice quieter, more serious.
Calythra tilts his head, considering the question. “Because this isn’t my first rodeo.” I blink that he even knows the termrodeo. “And because I care. More than you’d think. Kids like Jamie? They deserve to grow up, to have a shot at life without worrying about the likes of the royal guard breathing down their necks. I’m not just doing this because Harith told me to. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”
I’m struck silent, the tension in my chest easing just slightly.
Calythra claps his hands together suddenly, breaking the moment. “Right, then. Let’s get this show on the road. Got a kid to save, yeah?”
Harith nods, his expression calm but approving. “You’re ready.”
“Born ready,” Calythra replies, his grin flashing one last time before he turns to leave the room.
As the door closes behind him, I glance at Solan, my chest tightening with a mix of hope and fear. “You really think they can do it?”
“Yes,” Solan says simply, his golden gaze steady. “And so should you.”
His hand finds the back of my neck again, his touch grounding me, but my thoughts are still with Jamie—and with the strange, confident monster who just might be his best chance. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.
I let out a shaky laugh. “Adrenaline crash,” I admit.
He pulls me gently towards the cot in the corner of the room, his golden gaze soft. “Rest, Jack. We will protect him. I promise.”
And somehow, as his warmth surrounds me, I almost believe him. It’s not enough to stop the dread from swirling in my gut, but it does something to settle me.
“I don’t think I can sleep.” My voice sounds brittle, like it might shatter under the weight of my guilt. Jamie’s out there, alone, and the idea of me getting a full night’s rest feels like the ultimate betrayal.
“Then don’t,” he says simply, his tone calm but resolute.
He sits down first, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight. It’s not plush, not even close to comfortable, but it might as well be a throne with the way Solan carries himself—calm, deliberate, present. He tugs me down beside him, and I follow without resistance, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or maybe it’s the pull he has over me, that ever-present gravity that keeps me tethered when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.
“What can I do to make this easier while we wait?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze steady.
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and unspoken. My mind betrays me, flashing with images that have no business surfacing right now—his mouth on mine, his strong grip on parts of me I can’t even acknowledge without blushing. Desire stirs, hot and unwelcome, but it refuses to be ignored.
I glance at him, and the intensity of his gaze almost undoes me. He’s watching me with such focus, such quiet attentiveness,that it’s like he can see straight through me. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Stay,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He stills. The hand that was brushing against mine pauses, and for a moment, I’m afraid I’ve crossed some invisible line. But then I feel it—a pulse, an energy that radiates from him like heat from a flame, subtle and warm but unmistakably alive. It dances over my skin, leaving a trail of awareness in its wake.
“I will stay,” he says, his voice quieter now, more intimate. His fingers find my pulse point at the side of my neck, the touch electric. My vein leaps under his hand, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it.
He leans in slightly, his golden gaze locking onto mine. “And what else do you need from me?” he asks, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “You can have anything that I have to give.”
There’s a fierceness in his eyes that makes me swallow hard, a promise that feels too big to comprehend. And suddenly, I can’t think. All I can do is feel—his touch, his presence, the sheer intensity of him.
Fuck it. I want him.
