“It’s not like that,” I replied. “Arken’s not going anywhere.”
“Right,” Hans added. “Because youcare about her.”
“Is that such a crime?” I snapped.
“‘Course not. I just think it’s hilarious that you think that’s all—”
“Hans.” Jeremiah warned, his tone dropping deadly low, more serious this time.
Though I understood where both of these men were coming from, I wasn’t in the mood to think about it. I knew that I had a certain pattern of behavior, yes. And Arken and I had yet to define exactly what had been transpiring between us as of late.
In our defense, we hadn’t exactly had thetime. We’d been fucking like rabbits for over nine days straight, utterly ravenous. Nine days, and it was still all that I could think about when I was at work, or when she was in lectures. This twinned sense of addiction was starting to feel like it was more than just a consequence of a year’s worth of pining and sexual tension. If that were the case, surely we would have simmered down by now. We hadn’t, and I had neither the time nor the attention span to explore whatever else it could be. I was too busy burying myself in her. Losing myself in her as often as fucking possible.
All that I knew was that I had no interest in pushing her away. Not when I was constantly desperate to pull her closer. I mean, shit—I had just missed a meeting for the first time in my career because I’d been all too happy to let myself be distracted by her all morning.
Truthfully, I didn’t know if any of this was a good idea, but I wasn’t going to stop myself any time soon.
I did my best to shake off the petty irritation towards my lieutenants as I reported in to my commander.
“How’s the girl? Still recovering alright?” Hanjae asked.
“Yes, sir.”
I didn’t elaborate, and he gave me a long look before speaking again.
“It’s not my business, and to be blunt, I don’t want to know. But for the sake of our work—and given her rarity—I must ask that you try to preserve a respectful relationship with the Light Conduit, whatever else transpires.”
I nodded.
“Understood, sir.”
“As for what you missed this morning… Well, we’re not quite sure what to make of it, and I was hoping to get your take.”
“What’s going on?”
“After the Leshy attack, we sent some of Rorick’s rangers to scan through the Wyldwoods, to make sure that the creature had been traveling alone. Though they didn’t find any more traces of daemon activity, they did pick up on something… odd.”
“Odd in what way?”
“That’s the thing. We’re not even sure. According to the rangers, it was some residual arcane energy that felt off somehow. Foreign. They couldn’t really describe it, but reportedthat it felt distinctly different from a Conduit or even an Aetherborne’s magick, and it was scattered around in pockets of the wood, but it faded too fast to track.”
Foreign aether? Scattered around in pockets? That was… unsettling.
What Hanjae was describing was simple aetheric reverberation. There were certain types of magick—arcane methods that weren’t taught here—that drew so much energy at once that they would leave behind an echo of power before the aether could be reabsorbed by the surrounding flora and fauna. The rangers had found these echoes throughout the forest, but I had only drawn from my blood magickonce. And it sure as Hel shouldn’t have taken over a week to dissipate.
“That’s strange,” I said. “I didn’t sense anything other than the Leshy that night. And you said they found no other trace of daemonic activity? How far into the Wyldwoods did they go?”
“They’ve been at it all week, so they covered the whole damn forest. Nothing.”
“I’ll send my cadre in as well. See if there’s anything they can find that the rangers might have missed.”
My commander nodded.
“We’ll also be setting up regular patrol shifts in the area. Make sure your men align with Rorick’s, at least on coverage and strategy.”
“Of course, sir.”
I tried my best to stifle a yawn, not wanting to appear bored or disrespectful. I was just really fucking tired.