Still, her thoughts seized on something else, and she cast a smile up while pointing out, “So you are dreaming of her.”
She'd asked the same question while traveling from The Nexus, and he'd said it was too personal to offer an answer. But now, Mikail qualified, “No, I've been dreaming of a ghost I've yet to meet, and it's driving me insane. So I'm hoping the competitions will help me find her sooner.”
Kivsey nodded in understanding, and quickly realized Mikail had slept since their arrival in the city, inquiring before she could think better of it, “Did you dream of anyone last night?”
“No, I didn't.”
At his annoyed denial, she had a single thought. So much for bonding with me, then. If his dreams were an indication that he was soon to meet his mate, and Kivsey was the one, he would've seen her in his sleep the previous night, right?
But he hadn't, and though she was relieved to know his mortality wasn't an issue, she was also disappointed.
Kivsey checked a groan, deciding she'd simply lived the single life for too long, and meeting a man like Mikail wasn't helping to forget her lack of companionship. Not only was he extremely attractive, his personality was turning out to be appealing as well.
So she envied whatever woman was lucky enough to have him—and the idea of him with someone else was a lot more distasteful than expected, prompting her to change the subject entirely.
“Is a mate the only thing you get for winning?”
He nodded. “There's no point to the competition other than that. Perhaps you earn respect, but it's just friendly camaraderie and showing off.”
“Showing off? Oh,” Kivsey drew out, adding suggestively, “you mean showing the ladies how virile you are.”
With a sensual smile curving his mouth, Mikail retorted, “We don't strip down to a loincloth and get oiled up for nothing.”
Loincloth? Oiled up? Kivsey stared blankly at the big Warlord, unsure she wanted to imagine what he'd just described, but couldn't quite keep herself from envisioning his muscular body slick with oil and clad in nothing but a strip of cloth. Oh. My.
“You won't have to imagine it for long, Kivsey. You'll be seeing it in another hour.”
She blinked at his sudden, knowing comment, realizing her stare wasn't exactly discreet—and he looked so smug she almost wanted to kick him.
But they'd just rounded the corner into the square, and someone called their names before she could offer a proper response.
Looking left, the two came to a stop in spying Nevan weaving through a crowd of people to reach them.
“I was looking for you,” she remarked on the way. “The competition starts in an hour.”
“We were just discussing that, actually,” Kivsey started. “Did you want to go to the arena early for better seats?”
Nodding with a facetious smirk, Nevan immediately took her hand to lead the way and directed Mikail as they departed, “Better make this a good one, big guy. I've got bets placed.”
The confident smirk on the Warlord's face said he didn't intend to disappoint, and Kivsey could barely drag her gaze away from it. Yet he seemed to be having just as much difficulty, intently watching them leave with a look in his crimson eyes she couldn't quite place.
“Is he staring?”
Nevan's question drew Kivsey from her stupor, and she finally looked ahead and replied, “Yeah, just watching us go.”
For some reason, the Dok'aal grinned. “Did he fill you in on the details of what's to come?”
“Yep, and I can't say the idea of watching bunch of half naked men wrestle is a bad one.”
“A bunch of them? Or just Mikail?”
Giving her a strange look over the playful question, Kivsey inquired, “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, I'm just wondering how interested you are in seeing him wrestle specifically.”
“After the past few days?” Smirking, she looked ahead and decided to admit, “I get the feeling I'll be enjoying the show to come.”
Nevan grinned. “Warlords usually have shorter matches, but they're always fierce, and they fight even harder when they believe there's something to gain.”
“You think Mikail does?”
Curiously, the Dok'aal answered with the utmost confidence, “Oh, I think he has plenty of reason to give this his all.”
For as promising as that sounded, a twinge of envious disappointment reared its head. Nevan made it sound as if he had someone specific in mind he hoped to impress, and the way he'd stared as they departed seemed like an indication that the Dok'aal walking next to her was it.
But his interactions with Nevan were too friendly to denote romantic interest, making Kivsey exceedingly curious over Mikail's current involvements. So, as they rounded a building and took a flight of stairs up to a pathway connecting with the entrance into the arena, she asked, “Who do you think he's hoping to win over?”
A coy smirk raised the corners of Nevan's lips while navigating the crowd gathered in wait of the night's main event.
“Not someone he expected,” she answered.
“Okay, now you're making me even more curious. Have I met her?”
Chuckling, she parted her lips to respond. But just as the first word was coming out of her mouth, another voice nearby interrupted, “Excuse me.”
Both women stopped and turned at the same time to spy two guards approaching, both decked out in the same type of plate armor as those who normally guarded the entrance into the Council Chamber.
The protective gear made it impossible to see their faces through their visors, but the tone of voice used proved their business was official.
To Kivsey, the one on the right announced, “We've come to escort you from the arena.”
Sharing a confused look with Nevan, she nearly inquired if she'd done something wrong, but her companion was quick to point out, “It's alright. She's my guest.”
“That doesn't matter,” he countered. “The Council has received a number of complaints about how freely this human is being allowed to wander the city. So, to assuage their fears, we've been ordered to bar her from tonight's competition.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Nevan immediately objected. “She hasn't caused any trouble, and for all you know, one of the competitors might—”
“If you have a problem with this, you'll have to take it up with the Council,” the guard interrupted plainly. “They've already informed us that they're willing to entertain objections.”
Because they know I won't be here long enough to appeal their decision. Sighing, Kivsey shook her head at Nevan and stated, “Don't worry about it. I'll just go back to Mikail's and work on that alphabet chart.”
“But Kivsey, you—”
“Seriously, it's okay. I don't wanna cause trouble, so if you can, let Mikail know why I didn't show up.”
For some inexplicable reason, Nevan looked extremely annoyed by this development. Of course, Kivsey shared in that annoyance. It would've been nice to watch the competitors in action, particularly regarding Mikail's matches.
But they both knew Arias' influence only extended so far, and the people were likely uncomfortable with the idea of a half elf attending an event meant to help the unmated find their lifelong partner. So she wasn't entirely surprised the guards were barring her entry, and didn't hesitate to let them escort her from the arena.
Still, as they started moving, Nevan promised, “Oh, I'll tell him, and believe me, he's not going to be happy.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
♦
Mikail was furious.
“What do you mean they barred her from attending?”
“Just what I said,” Nevan returned, speaking on an irritated tone while glancing about the changing room beneath the arena where they stood.
With the competition starting in only fifteen minutes, Mikail had been preparing amongst the numerous rows of stalls set up for the competitors' use. Most of the men were now in the proper, scant attire as well, and Nevan
had no trouble staring at them lasciviously in passing.
She also had no compunctions about sneaking down to deliver some unexpected news, relating, “People are complaining about Kivsey's presence, so the Council decided to keep her out to prove they're not oblivious to the problem.”
Perhaps the information shouldn't have been so surprising. Mikail knew the people wouldn't accept Kivsey overnight. Even if every person in Satorala witnessed her walking through the square with Arias, some would still complain, and short of telling them she was Mikail's mate—in which case he wouldn't be competing anyway—the Council's hands would be tied.
But an infuriated growl escaped his throat that sent a nearby contender in the opposite direction.
Once again, his enthusiasm for competing had vanished—and this time, he actually felt unwelcome. Why compete in a tournament that wouldn't accept the woman he wanted to fight for?
It was difficult enough to let Kivsey walk away after their tour of the city. He'd learned more about her that day than he had during their entire walk to Satorala, and yearned to know much more. Yet he let her go, thinking the best way to end their evening would be by impressing her during the fights.
And now, she wasn't even being allowed to attend.
The development put him in a difficult position. There were no guarantees that Kivsey was his true mate, and if she wasn't, staying would be extremely beneficial to finding her. Yet his instincts were so strong that all he wanted was to leave the arena and return home to check on the human staying there.
During his thoughts, Nevan mentioned with a wave of her hand, “You don't even want to compete now, do you?”
“No,” he growled, cutting to the chase instead of allowing her to take guesses. “I know you suspect there's something more between us, Nevan, and you're right. I haven't dreamed of Kivsey, but ever since we met, I've been drawn to her, and my interest has only grown stronger.”
He wasn't certain what type of reaction his confession would garner, but where Nevan seemed irritated before, now she was grinning nearly from ear to pointed ear.
“If that's the case, then fuck the tournament,” she advised bluntly. “There are other ways to impress her.”
For as true as that was, Mikail couldn't stop himself from asking, “What are you suggesting? That I forfeit?”
“Why not? It sends a message, and even if Kivsey doesn't turn out to be the one, this competition is only a formality. Besides, she's just sitting at your home all alone right now, and if your interest is as strong as you're saying, we both know you'll throw your matches, or just kill your opponents out of frustration.”
The last was spoken on a bland tone, but despite her joke, she made a damned good point.
No male had ever forfeited the competition. Most were far too concerned with finding their fated mates to miss the opportunity. So quitting would certainly send a message—and cause a number of problems. The commissioners would have to rearrange the matches he was assigned to, and several people who'd placed bets on him would be let down.
But if these were the same people who'd complained to the Council and had Kivsey barred from the start, he couldn't care less.
Still, if he returned home now, she'd ask why he wasn't competing, and he wasn't certain she was ready to hear the truth. Wouldn't a human find it strange to learn that after only three days of knowing someone, they might possibly be mates?
Of course, he already knew she found him attractive enough to be a suitable possibility—her stare after learning what the fighters wore during the competition spoke volumes of it. But attraction was vastly different from a permanent bond, and if the truth wasn't delivered carefully, it could drive her away, particularly in their temporary situation.
Yet, knowing she could leave Satorala at any moment was just more incentive to forfeit. Otherwise, he might lose his chance altogether, and if, in the coming days, he discovered Kivsey was his, he'd sorely regret not telling her now.
So Mikail made up his mind in two simple words. Fuck it. Good idea or not, he had to tell her everything—he simply didn't get the chance to say so before one of the attendants came down to announce that the matches started in five minutes.
Stopping nearby, the man asked everyone to move out, and only paused in noticing Nevan.
“What are you doing down here?” he demanded.
“Just relaying some news,” she retorted unapologetically, motioning at Mikail in adding, “we're good friends.”
“I don't care, this area isn't for spectators. So you have to leave. Now.”
At his insistence, Nevan quirked a slender brow over an eye as if silently challenging him to make her go before she was ready. Mikail smirked at her behavior in turn, his amusement redoubling when the attendant actually hesitated.
But it offered the chance to state, “Don't worry, I'll escort her out.”
“You can't. You're a contender.”
“And I'm forfeiting my entry,” he retorted, using the wash basin in his stall to clean the oil from his arms, chest, and back.
In the process, the attendant stared, completely baffled. “What? You can't forfeit! What about the men you're supposed to engage? The people who've placed bets on you?”
Still cleaning off, he wasted no time responding, “The Council should've thought about that before they banned the only woman I cared to compete for. So tell the commissioners to take the matter up with them.”
At that, he dried off with a towel, then grabbed his tunic and left the stunned attendant behind with Nevan at his side.
Because she still intended to watch the fights, they parted ways at the top of the stairs where he exited the arena with her wishes of luck following behind—and Mikail couldn't help but think he'd need it.
Still, and despite his misgivings over admitting the truth to Kivsey, a strange sense of liberation overcame him on the way home, as if forfeiting the competition to spend time with her was the smartest decision he'd ever made. He even considered purchasing some type of gift for Kivsey from one of the numerous shops in the square, but was too eager to stop long enough and make a decision on what she might appreciate.
Instead, he walked directly home and stepped inside to find the woman who'd captured his interests sitting on the chaise in his living room. With her legs drawn up, she was using a closed book in her lap to press on while writing more words on her dirty chart of letters.
But his vision was drawn to the way her skirt had fallen around her lap, revealing her bare legs. Long and shapely, he could only imagine how good it would be to have them wrapped around his waist as his hips worked between her thighs.
The thought caused a surge of lust to harden his cock, making it difficult to focus when she turned a surprised look in his direction at the sound of the shutting door.
“Mikail? What are you doing here?”
Thankful his tunic was long enough to cover his erection, he thought his answer over, unwilling to say everything at once—which wasn't going to be easy.
But it didn't need to be.
Just after meeting Kivsey, Mikail recalled thinking that if his dreams had proven anything, having his mate in his life was all that mattered. So no matter how difficult this became, he would prove himself.
And he'd make certain the experience was enjoyable for both of them.
“Nevan told me you were barred from attending the competition.”
Kivsey stared blankly in response to Mikail's answer, uncertain she understood how her barring related to his presence. The competition should've started by now, yet here he was, and he didn't sound pleased with the situation, just as Nevan had suggested.
Even still, she hadn't thought he'd come home because of it, asking, “Did they let you leave to check on me before your match?”
“Not precisely,” he returned, walking toward her with a smile curving his mouth. “Mind if I join you?”
Again, she stared at him, confusion making it difficult to accept his request. But she finally scoote
d across the chaise under the assumption that he wanted to sit next to her—only to find the Warlord lifting a leg over the chaise to sit behind her.
Following the movement, he grasped her hips to tug her in so that her back was against his chest. The position allowed him to look over her shoulder at the chart of letters in her lap, and normally, she wouldn't have minded the seating arrangement. But her attraction to the Warlord made it feel more personal than she would've liked, scrambling her thoughts too much to focus on asking what happened at the arena.
The way his arms wound around her sides didn't help matters, and she barely recognized her own voice in asking, “If they didn't let you leave, why are you here?”
His response was straightforward, and sounded much too casual for its meaning.
“I forfeited the competition.”
“You what?”
Nodding, he explained just as plainly, “I wanted you there tonight, so if people are complaining about your presence to the point that the Council believes you shouldn't be allowed to attend, then my place is here as well. It's my duty to look out for you anyway, and that's what I intend on doing.”
Kivsey turned her head to cast a disbelieving look in his direction. Though a part of her was flattered by his refusal to accept her barring, what he'd given up seemed too important to justify his decision.
Besides, if the guards who'd escorted her home didn't feel it necessary to stay and watch over her, then he had no reason to deprive himself of an event that would help him find a mate.
But he didn't give her the chance to say so, asking, “What words have you written down?”
Again, his casual tone confused her, and instead of answering, she pointed out, “Mikail, you're missing a chance to—”
“I know what I'm missing,” he returned, taking her pencil before waving at the paper to silently insist she tell him what to write.
Grumbling, Kivsey finally gave in, looking at the paper to find the letter where they'd left off, being K.
“That says kiss,” she answered. “It's not dirty, but it was the only thing I could think of.”
Cast Into Shadow Page 14
