11. Kael

11

KAEL

I sit beside Laia, her arm cradled in my hands. The flickering firelight casts long shadows on the cave walls, painting our world in shades of orange and black. Her skin feels warm under my touch, marred by cuts and bruises that tell stories of battles fought and pain endured.

There are new ones, too. Irix was harsh but necessary.

“You did it,” I murmur, winding the bandage around a particularly nasty cut. My eyes meet hers, searching for something I can’t quite name. “You have way more strength than I give you credit for.”

She winces as I tighten the bandage, but then her lips curve into a small, almost shy smile. “I don’t feel it,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

My brow furrows, my hands pausing their work. “You’ve survived; isn’t that all that matters? That’s strength.” My voice comes out softer than I intended, reverent as if speaking to something fragile yet precious.

Her eyes widen slightly at my words, and for a moment, the cave feels smaller, more intimate. The whiff of herbs mingles with the earthy smell of the cave, grounding us in this fleeting moment of peace.

Laia’s heart tightens; I can see it in the way her chest rises and falls more rapidly. A warmth spreads through her cheeks—a blush she tries to hide by looking away.

I continue to work on her wounds, my fingers brushing against her skin with a gentleness that feels foreign even to me. Each touch is deliberate, careful not to cause her more pain. She’s been through enough.

“You know,” I say after a while, my voice breaking the quiet, “strength isn’t always about physical power. Sometimes it’s about enduring when you have every reason to give up.”

Laia’s eyes meet mine again, and this time they’re filled with something akin to hope. It’s a fragile thing, but there nonetheless. She nods slightly, as if accepting my words as truth.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

For what? For tending to her wounds? For seeing her as more than just a survivor? The questions swirl in my mind but remain unasked. Instead, I offer her a small smile and continue my work, knowing that sometimes words are unnecessary.

She opens her top, and I hold onto my breath. My fingers trace the wounds on her shoulders down to her back.

My hands linger far more than necessary, sending a tingle in my body as we keep in contact. There's something unspoken between us, a tension that neither of us knows how to address. It hangs in the air, thick and palpable. It’s like a hand clutching at my throat.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see a mix of fear and curiosity there. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me—a healer? A protector? Or just another monster who could turn on her at any moment?

Before I can dwell on it further, the silence is broken by the sound of footsteps echoing through the cave. Irix strides in, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I stiffen but don’t move away from Laia. My hand remains on her arm, a silent show of defiance. “Leave us, Irix,” I say, my voice firm but calm.

Irix raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by my reaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze flicking between Laia and me. “Touchy, aren’t we?” he says with a chuckle.

“Laia needs rest,” I reply, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Go find Thalos if you’re bored.”

I stiffen when Irix moves closer, leaning on the wall beside Laia. He’s looking at her with that crazed, savage look in his eyes when he sees prey.

And here I am, healing her and trying to be a friend she needs, especially after my brother forced her to kill for the first time. It’s never easy to have blood in your hands, even if it's from your enemies.

Irix chuckles and interrupts my thoughts, saying, “Why? You’re not doing anything interesting.” He grabs Laia by the wrist, pulling her up and into his arms with a roughness that makes her gasp. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Before Laia can react, Irix’s mouth crashes down on hers, the kiss hard and demanding. His hands grip her waist, pulling her flush against him. I want to tell her to push him away so I can care for her.

She should push him away, but part of her responds, a thrill of something dangerous sparking in her eyes. I can see it. Maybe she needs this, too.

My jaw tightens, fists clenching at my sides. I’m torn between wanting to stop it and not knowing how. This is who Irix is—wild, uncontrollable. He’s my brother.

Irix pulls back, a grin on his lips as he looks at me. “See? You’re too soft, brother. She needs someone who isn’t afraid to take what he wants.”

“Enough.” I step forward, my voice low and dangerous. I pull Laia from Irix’s grasp, my hand on her arm firm but gentle. “You’ve made your point.”

Irix laughs, stepping back with a shrug. “You’re boring,” he says, his tone mocking as he leaves us alone.

I watch him go, my face hardening. Turning back to Laia, I soften my voice. “Are you all right?”

Laia nods, though her heart still races. “I’m fine,” she whispers as she tries to act nonchalant, but I can see the emotions in her eyes and hear her heart beat wildly.

Silence reigns between us, the tension between us heavy in the air. My hand remains on her arm, offering what little comfort I can.

“I won’t let him hurt you again,” I say softly.

She looks up at me with wide eyes, searching for truth in my words.

I smile at her and say, Irix is tough. We can say he’s a savage through and through. But he also has a soft heart under all those tough muscles and coarse fur. You might not see it, but he’s a good minotaur. In my opinion, it should be Thalos you should watch out for.”