Dark Elf's Desire (Dark Elves of Protheka Book 7) by Celeste King

Author:Celeste King [King, Celeste]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Protheka Publishing
Published: 2022-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

19

Zelvek

I admit that I haven’t been in my right mind lately. What Archduke Kral said to me on the veranda has me distracted. But he’s right, too, and that’s what frightens me.

When Theresa and I had sex, I experienced an immense power I had never encountered before. It’s the power we only read about through our literature as scholars. While this new energy excites me, it is equally unsettling.

Do I even trust myself with responsibility of this magnitude?

I am bound by my duty to the King to keep him informed of my discoveries, like a tether from a dog to its master. My hard work and dedication over the decades have earned his trust, and I don’t intend on sabotaging that. But I cannot learn and study without the occasional tug, and the King will want to know why the Archduke visited me.

My inner conflict revolves around my feelings for Theresa. I never thought I could open my heart again after losing Dellaea.

I have the strongest desire to keep her safe.

I doubt that I could carry on living if something were to happen to her.

My conversation with Kral weighs on my mind as I pack my leather bag for the trip to Pyrthos. Was he projecting his own fears onto me? Can I trust myself when I’m drunk on Theresa’s powers? Did his warning make my chest tighten because he is speaking what I am choosing to ignore?

I understand having a fear of the unknown, but it is concerning to me how my judgment is put in question. I tie the bag closed and sling it over my shoulder. My heavy feet lead me to Theresa’s room, where she is packing, herself.

She gracefully leans over the bed, placing some small items into her leather bag. Stray tresses of her thick, auburn hair have broken free from her ponytail and hang down over her face, which she hasn’t bothered to fix.

I clear my throat before addressing her. “Are you ready?”

Theresa ignores my question as she secures the bag. She is still upset with me about my recent behavior towards her. It was not my intention to push her away. I just can’t seem to get the threats out of my head.

She picks her bag up and brushes past me in the doorway without saying a word.

This is torture. I need to make things right with her again.

I give her some distance as I follow her down the stairs and out the front doors. She enters the carriage on her own, and I join her after speaking with the coachman about our destination.

As I sit across from her, I study her defiant demeanor. She is turned away from me at an angle, cramped next to the window as if to avoid touching me again. I find even her stubbornness adorable, but I refrain from laughing, knowing it will only make things worse.

“Theresa, please talk to me.”

She is still as a statue, with her eyes fixed to the window of the carriage. At least her anger has become a manageable force.

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