Arlet. The bronze-freckled woman with a soft body that fits perfectly in my arms.
She needs someone to care for her, to consume her. And then return the broken pieces of her soul, all while helping her smooth over the jagged edges.
It’s been so long since I’d been with Adra. No other woman had touched me since.
The heat lurks at the edges of my soul, waiting for an outlet. And suddenly, it floods my system.
A rush of blood passes over my skin—hot, sharp, demanding.
The sensation shoots straight to my groin, tightening into something dark and insistent.
Fuck. It’s potent.
I stand abruptly, and the stiffness in my pants is uncomfortable. I need to cool off. To relax. I could stay here—take care of this like I have before.
Or I could leave.
Even half-drunk, I know the answer.
I burst out of my house, gulping in the cool cavern air. The deeper I walk into the city, the less suffocated I feel and the more the heat recedes.
I let out a few musical notes when I reach the tunnels at the end of the residential section. The crystals around me, quartz, amethyst, and citrine sing back. They hum in my bones, trying to soothe me.
Tunnel six was dedicated to public pools. They are often occupied, even at night, but a new room just opened, one crafted by the ocean-risen. It was usually empty past midnight.
They call it a salt room, whatever the hell that means.
I head toward it, wondering if salt crystals will sing as prettily as quartz.
Each step drags me away from the thoughts I don’t want and the chill in my chest that leads to pain the following day.
Arlet didn’t need me thinking about her constantly. She hasalways been predisposed to fight twice as hard against me when I’m the one bringing up the issue.
I should have left the matter of the nightgown alone.
But I can’t.
Not when I found her standing over the severed leg of an aradhlum, her hands shaking, her expression blank—like she wasn’t even inside her own body. Not when she barely remembers a full day. Not when Daniel was seen lurking near her home, and now he’s gone.
The pieces don’t fit together cleanly, and it’s driving me mad.
And if I don’t figure out what is going on soon, I’m afraid I’ll find her in the same position again—except next time, she won’t be the one left standing.
Dragging my hand across my face, I turn down a new path and find the entrance, and I untie the tunic around my shoulders. The room is warm, glowing with the soft orange hue of salt crystals, and I didn’t want to get overheated. For some reason, they insisted on a door. I push it open, stepping inside… and stop dead.
A woman’s form stretches across one of the slabs, entirely unclothed.
Flame-red hair cascades over smooth shoulders, curling over freckled skin. She’s bathed in the soft amber light, as if sculpted from the same mineral around her.
A single arm drapes over her eyes, shielding her from the glow. She doesn’t stir.
I go rigid.
Then, a soft snore escapes her lips.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. Can’t think. The rush of blood, of heat, of want comes like a wave, knocking the air from my lungs.
She is delicate in a way that is entirely different from what I have ever known.