Page 22 of Greed of Giants
I became aware of the time, the lateness of the hour, and the tiredness that dragged through me. It had been a rough day, surprising and draining. I eyed the bed andstood. He rose, standing too close, looking at me with that intensity that made me want to do something dangerous. A wave of longing came over me. Perhaps it was the exhaustion. I didn’t know what to blame. My impulsiveness? My need for closeness?
Holding his gaze, I rose on my tiptoes and moved forward. A spark passed between us, hot and sudden, yet I still leaned forward and brushed my lips against his.
10
Killian
Hunger. The word ripped through me with an understanding, an awakening I did not expect. She was the source, driving that insatiable craving, that deepening need. She fell back, a soft sound escaping from her throat as she held out a hand to steady herself, catching her balance on the table.
Her eyes had gone slightly glazed, but I remained rigid, unable to break her gaze as though the barest hint of a kiss held me spellbound, wrapping stone around me once again. It took an immense will to keep my tone even. “You could not resist. You’ve wanted to do that since you woke me.”
Her eyes widened, as though she were innocent, the single word no more than a whisper. “No.”
“Liar. I see the way you look at me. I smell your desire. But you should not wish for more. I am dangerous.”
Her fingers tapped the top of the chair. “I know.”
She didn’t fully comprehend what it meant to touch me, to get too close.
“I am fire.” I dragged my gaze from her lips. “I destroy everything I touch.”
“I know,” she repeated.
But she didn’t. All it would take was one moment lost in passion, and I might burn her to ash in my arms. “No. You don’t. But you will if you persist with this.”
Now she stepped back, pressing a finger to her lips, but her gaze, treacherous and desirous, gave her away. She didn’t believe me, not for a moment. “You don’t frighten me,” she said.
Those weren’t the words of someone bold and defiant. It was the simple truth, laid plainly before me.
“I get the sense you’re not frightened when you should be.” I eyed the scroll, the edges of it peeking out of her bag. She was ideal for this task—bold and unexpected—but too curious for her own good. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get us both killed. “Sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
“Don’t you need to sleep?”
“I’ve been asleep for years. One night awake will do me no harm.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Even though she shifted away, I was acutely aware of the small space of the hut, of the sound of cloth against skin, and the pull of heavy blankets. The thought hovered before me unbidden. The invitation extended. All I had to do was rise and accept it.
Despite the tug within, I knew that I wouldn’t touch Ilaris the Scholar. I needed her alive, well, and undamaged. I needed her knowledge and the power of her voice. Shemight claim the world did not have magic, but something unique hovered around her and resonated in my mind like a melody.
I settled in front of the fire, even though the night was balmy. I let the flame die out and watched the shadows shift into depths of velvet blackness. But nothing was darker than those tombs, those tunnels deep under the earth. Here, light shone through the window, the sky was a navy blue with hints of faraway starlight. They sparkled like diamonds, reveling in their midnight dance. The fire died, the embers glowing red, then gold, then not at all.
Eventually came birdsong, and underneath it all was the music of the waves, rolling, crashing against the shore. The water was calling. Calling. Had it always rung out, that wordless song? Demanding release? How many souls had it driven mad, making them dive deeper, swim faster, only to drown before they reached the source? Because the source was unreachable.
What lay beneath those waves had been buried there when the world was young. And shouldn’t be calling. Shouldn’t be awake or aware, unless the seals were weakening faster than I expected. It was a wonder the mortals didn’t call this bay cursed, unless the songs were new and hadn’t been there until she had woken me.
She slept hard without moving, her breath slow and steady, a music of its own. One of her books still lay on the table, and I flipped through it, a study of giants, runes and ruins. A preposterous lie. Stories pulled from fragments, scholarly thought intent on unearthing what should not be unearthed. Not without someone who was there, who knew the plans and motives and the meaning of eternity.Perhaps that was why the scholar sought truth. She wanted me to give her what no historical account could provide.
And I would give it to her, even though it would be meaningless. By the time my brethren were awake, there wouldn’t be a world for her to return to, to stand on academic accolades and earn the praise of her peers. Praise she desperately wanted, even though she attempted to hide that part of herself by revealing something deeper: her past in a field of poppies.
It was the bell that brought me to my feet. A gong that rang out. Seven strikes, just as it had always been. All these thousands of years later, and it was still there, still ringing. I didn’t question the possibilities. Instead, I unlocked the door and let myself out.
The fresh scent of dew, of salt-stung waves filled the air along with the constant mist that hung over the waters. What was it hiding? I left the door open, hoping the chill of the morning air would wake Ilaris. It was time to leave. I felt sure of the direction. The rest of the details would come once we were on our way.
The mist parted, and a boat emerged. A man got out, dragged the boat up on the shore, then lifted out a basket full of fish, so fresh they still flapped about. Putting the basket on his back, he picked up a walking stick and headed across the beach.
I walked down the slope toward him. It was uncanny to see another mortal. This one who didn’t know me nor where I’d come from.
“Need help with the fish?” I called.
