~

Zesstra chewed gently on her bottom lip and tugged gently at the ends of her hair. She blinked at the books in front of her and realized she hadn't read a single word. She reached out with her spare hand to touch the page and focus her attention.

A second later, her mind began to wander again. It wandered straight the shifter outside the door on the phone. The shifter representing her people on the Counsel. Atticus Shaw. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably, and her eyes lowered to half mast. Her teeth sunk deeper into her lip and twisted her hair even tighter around her finger.

She physically shook her head, trying to shake him from her mind. She had to concentrate. She needed to find something to help Rhia and Nolan and... She wouldn't think his name again. He was too much of a distraction. She never struggled like this with her books before. She had always loved to study, it was the one thing she knew she was good at... so why couldn't she think straight?

A small cat that glowed with pure white light hopped onto the table and pressed her face into Zesstra's hand, purring loudly. When she tried to shoo her away, she sprawled across the pages on her back and swatted at her master's fingers. "You are not helping." Zesstra scolded the familiar and poked her nose.

She mewed and stretched out, further obscuring the pages. Zesstra leaned back away from the table and frowned at the cat. Eos was, as all familiars were, an extension of her consciousness and magic. Her pitch-black eyes peered up at Zesstra as if to remind her that this physical distraction might as well be her own fault. Because if she kept looking, there was a good chance she would find something. And if she found something she might have to face him. Her brother.

Zenith.

Okay, half brother, but they were still family in the most traditional sense of the word. To a lot of the other elven clans, blood ties were stronger than any magic or personal experience. At least, that's what they said. The elves said a lot. It was a maze of politics that she was still trying to navigate.

But Zenith had nothing to do with politics. He wasn't a political issue to her or her clan. It was a matter of self-preservation. Her brother was insane. The way he had been raised within the warrior caste, the way practiced his radiance, the magic special to the Shadowblade's, and the magic itself... it had all eaten away at his rational mind. He craved war and destruction. It was now all he knew.

It was why, for so long, the Tenebrarum didn't have a home territory. Their 'ancestral' homeland had been abandoned and paved over by humans millennia ago. She would have to consult books so old they might as well contain nothing but legends to remember where they were supposed to be. They travelled from land to land as sell-swords and private armies, sticking close to any culture that mass-produced conflict.

Her people should have known better than to take refuge in one of the countries that held nuclear weapons. Windsor was a five-hour drive from her childhood home in Chicago. Canada was no less racist than the United States when it came to the human population, but at least they left the Ancients alone. Five hours was the difference between sharing a country with people like Zenith, and a much higher chance of true freedom.

The floorboards creaked at the door and she looked around. The sight of him took her breath away. Atticus stuck out form the Tenebrarum like a bull in a china shop. He was as tall as any male elf, but three elven warriors could stand shoulder to shoulder and still not compare to his size.

His soulful, black eyes met hers and he smiled, making her heart flutter anxiously. "Any luck?" he asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

She swallowed hard and looked back at the table where Eos had practically melted over the book and was purring loudly while staring at Atticus. She scooped up the cat and tossed her up into her climbing post to get her out of the way and to hopefully keep her from exposing the strange new feelings Atticus was stirring within her.

"No," she could hear her voice shaking and mentally scolded herself. She hadn't been this nervous when she'd spoken to Arkil or the other elven representatives. What was it about this man that made her shake like a leaf? "Some of these tomes have not been opened since the divide of the sects. I do not even really know what I am looking for. I did, however, find out why my people have a debt to Nekros."

She pulled a book out from the bottom of the pile and opened the gilded pages to a wall of text. Atticus crossed the room to stand beside her, his arm just barely grazing hers. Her body grew warm at the slight touch and she bit down on her bottom lip again. He'd taken off the suit jacket ages ago, and his fingers now worked at the cuffs of his shirt. When they came free, he started to methodically roll the sleeves up his thick forearms. "What am I looking at?" he asked, squinting at the strange elven text.

She forced herself to look at the book and pulled at her hair again. "The story of our clan always speaks of the black death and pestilence upon a black steed... it is a fine story to tell a child, but it does not make sense if you think about it a little longer."

"Pestilence rides on a white horse in Revelations, not black." He nodded.

"Revelations?" Zesstra looked at him again, surprised. "Are you Catholic, Lord Shaw?"

"Christian." He corrected.

She didn't really know the difference, both religions were considered lowly, human faiths in the eyes of the elves... but it was one more thing she could say she knew about the male. She fought to keep the smile and blush from taking over her face.

"Yes... well, the black death was the common name for a virulent, human disease in the fourteenth century, but we consider the establishment of the clan shortly after the transition in the seventeen-hundreds, so it couldn't mean that black death. But," she turned the page to an elaborate illustration of a black dragon. "The dragon Nekros has historically been called the Black Death, the dragon of pestilence, and a dozen other names because of his unique magic. Reading between the lines, it looks like my father asked Nekros for help when he sought to divide the sects and escape persecution from the other elven clans. If these pages are accurate, we don't just owe Nekros a favor, but a life debt."

A chuckle rumbled deep in Atticus's chest. "For such a large world with so much in it, everything feels so small lately." He glanced sideways at her. "Nekros is Rhia's father."

Zesstra's eyes widened, and her lip quivered. "That is... impossible."

"Apparently not." He scratched his chin and blew out a breath. "Two weeks ago, I was happy thinking there were only five dragons. Now there are ten?"

"There has always been more." The words came out in a whisper. She was distracted by the hard line of his jaw. "Half of these books contain stories of dragonkin who have or had the power to rival the dragons. Maybe there are only ten by traditional standards, but there have always been more than that by magical ones."

She dragged her eyes up to his and felt her heart flutter again. His gaze was so intense. She started to chew on her lip and his eyes darted down to them. They narrowed slightly and he raised his hand to run the back of his fingers along the side of her throat. It was still tender from Nolan's assault and she quickly dragged her hair over that shoulder to hide any bruises that may be forming and looked away. "He should never have put his hands on you." He said coldly.

"It is nothing," she whispered. "He was in distress."

His eyes narrowed further, and his hand moved to the other side of her neck. His thumb grazed down the ridge of her throat, following the trail of glowing runes over her skin, down to the dip between her collar bones, before coming back up to gently pull her lip from between her teeth. The way he was looking at her mouth, his lips just slightly parted, made her wonder what it would be like for him to kiss her.

"I should get back to work." It came in a hushed breath and wouldn't have been heard by anyone without their hearing.

"Wait," his voice was just as quiet, though now with a husk that sent shivers dancing across her skin. "I just want to... Can I kiss you?"

Heat-fueled shivers rippled through her, setting her body on fire while every hair on her body rose in terrified excitement. She was lost in his eyes. That was the only way she could describe it. Why else couldn't she look away from him?

"You... you should not..." Her lungs felt too constricted for her to say any more any louder.

"That's not an answer."

His free hand reached for her waist, holding her still as he stepped closer. He had her in his arms plenty in the last several hours. First to keep her from falling where they parted quickly to save themselves any embarrassment. Then protectively after she had saved them all. Then in comfort after Nolan had threatened to kill her. None of those times were like... this.

He'd never held a woman like this. Tenderly. Gently. Like she was a porcelain doll who would shatter if he wasn't careful. He'd mated plenty of times, and he never doubted his abilities in the bedroom... but it had always been purely for reproduction. His breed of animal was naturally solitary, and males had little to do with raising of their young. Females fought each other to earn the right for him to mount them, something unheard of among his kind. It was always a statement of pride for him, such a young shifter of his animal, to never have to compete with other males for the chance to breed.

Zesstra was not one of his kind. She wasn't even a shifter. She was an elf, wrapped up in the confines of her own traditions and expectations. He highly doubted she didn't have a hundred potential mates lined up by her elders. It would never work between them. Never in either of their lifetimes.

But... just once... He wanted to experience what Nolan and Rhia had. Real affection. Even if it was just for a moment... this moment.

"Please," he whispered, using his hold on her neck to tilt her head at just the perfect angle. "I won't do anything you don't want. Just... one kiss..."

Her mouth closed and she swallowed, a motion that had his attention immediately on her throat. Such a tiny innocent move had him fascinated. For a second, he thought she might refuse him again... but then she made a tiny, barely perceptible nod. It may have been selfish, but he lowered his mouth to hers before she had a chance to change her mind.

His lips brushed gently against hers, a slight caress that immediately had his heart thundering in his chest. She was soft and sweet, exactly how he imagined her. Her long, delicate fingers clutched to the front of his shirt and he could feel her nails digging into his skin. Fuck, it was too much. He couldn't stop himself from imagining those nails raking across his back and arms, her beautiful voice crying her name, he whole body trembling against his as he made love to her.

His grip on her tightened and he pushed her away, sucking in a breath he desperately needed. He hadn't quite expected it to feel that good. She was dangerous. The way she made him feel was dangerous. She looked up at him with those pure, glassy, carnation-colored eyes. A naïve, confused look crossed her face. She screamed innocence and that was the most dangerous thing of all.

It killed him to do it, but he stepped away from her, releasing her. "Thank you." He whispered before turning quickly and walking out of the room.

~