Caged By the Lich

15. Astrid

15

ASTRID

I curl up on the couch in Olvaar's office, his blanket tucked around my shoulders. The fabric is soft against my skin, and I can't help but breathe in his scent, that rich spice that's becoming disturbingly familiar.

My mind races, replaying the events of the attack over and over. Olvaar's body shielding mine, the raw power emanating from him as he dispatched Lord Kravos...

I swallow hard, trying to reconcile the ruthless demon lord with the man who just saved my life. My feelings are a tangled mess, gratitude warring with lingering fear and something else I'm not ready to name.

But I was willing to relax on using his nickname. It felt wrong to keep calling him something that everyone else called him. Not to mention that it didn't suit him at all. It was…so mean. So wrong.

Olvaar was much better.

I watch him sit at his desk, drinking the tea that I learn helps replenish his magic. My eyes keep scanning over him, looking for signs he is hurt after the blast he took, but I don't see anything.

"Thank you," I blurt out, breaking the tense silence. My voice sounds small and uncertain in the large room. "For saving me, I mean."

Olvaar's eyes snap to mine, and I feel pinned in place by his intense gaze. He grunts, a noncommittal sound that could mean anything.

But I shouldn't expect more from him. And it's when those gray eyes swirl with purple and streaks of gold, I know that he actually feels more than he's letting on.

I've only seen them turn purple when he's touching me. Nearly kissing me.

And that doesn't help my jumbled mind, especially with the adrenaline of everything and the way I can't stop thinking about Lord Kravos. And words just start to spill out.

"I... I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't..." I trail off, cursing my suddenly clumsy tongue. Why is it so hard to string a sentence together?

"It was nothing," Olvaar says gruffly, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes that contradicts his dismissive tone. Is that... concern?

I clutch the blanket tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of its connection to him. "Still, I appreciate it," I manage, holding his gaze despite the urge to look away.

Olvaar nods curtly, but he doesn't break eye contact. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and emotions neither of us is ready to acknowledge.

Instead, he leans back from his desk, running his eyes over me. "Why don't we take the day off?" He raises his eyebrows. "Go do something…that will relax you."

I don't argue, needing the time to clear my head. I leave Olvaar's office, my mind still reeling from the whole day. I decide to indulge in a long, hot bath. The warm water soothes my aching muscles and helps calm my frayed nerves.

Later, feeling refreshed, I wander through the fortress corridors. The sound of clashing metal draws me towards the training grounds. As I round the corner, my breath catches in my throat.

Olvaar stands in the center of the courtyard, shirtless and glistening with sweat. He moves with lethal grace, his muscled form flowing from one stance to another as he practices complex sword forms. The crimson sky casts an otherworldly glow on his blue skin, highlighting every ripple and curve of his powerful physique.

I find myself transfixed, unable to look away. His movements are hypnotic – a deadly dance that showcases both raw strength and fluid control. My eyes trace the line of his shoulders, down his sculpted back, following the play of muscles beneath his skin.

A small gasp escapes my lips as Olvaar executes a particularly impressive maneuver. His head snaps in my direction, those piercing eyes locking onto mine. Heat rushes to my face as I realize I've been caught staring. I quickly avert my gaze, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Enjoying the view, little rebel?" Olvaar's deep voice carries across the courtyard, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

I force myself to meet his eyes, willing my blush to subside. "I was just... observing your technique," I manage, cursing the slight tremor in my voice.

"Is that all you were doing?" A smirk tugs at his lips, and my stomach flips.

I have no idea how to answer that. I stand frozen, caught between the urge to flee and an inexplicable desire to stay. Olvaar's eyes bore into mine, a challenge glinting in their depths.

He makes the decision for me.

"Join me," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You should know how to defend yourself."

I hesitate, my heart racing. "I... I don't think that's necessary."

In two long strides, Olvaar closes the distance between us. His hand wraps around my wrist, firm but not painful, as he tugs me towards the center of the courtyard. The heat of his skin against mine sends a jolt through my body.

"Nonsense," he growls. "I won't always be there to protect you."

Before I can protest further, I find myself standing face-to-face with him in the sparring circle. Olvaar's hands move to my shoulders, positioning me. His touch lingers, leaving trails of fire on my skin.

"Stance is crucial," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. He kicks my feet slightly apart, then places a hand on my lower back to straighten my posture. The casual intimacy of his actions makes my breath hitch.

I want him to touch me more.

Olvaar moves behind me, his chest nearly flush against my back. He takes my arms, guiding them through a basic defensive move. I can feel the solid warmth of his body, the strength in his hands as they manipulate my limbs.

"Like this," he says, the words coming out husky. He demonstrates the move again, his arms encircling me. The scent of his skin – sweat and spice – fills my nostrils, making my head spin.

I try to focus on the lesson, but all I can think about is the proximity of his body to mine. Every touch, every adjustment of my stance, sends sparks of electricity coursing through me. The attraction I've been trying to ignore roars to life, impossible to deny.

Olvaar's hand slides down my arm, ostensibly correcting my form. But there's a deliberateness to his touch that has nothing to do with combat training. His fingers linger on my wrist, tracing small circles on my pulse point.

I turn my head slightly, meeting his intense gaze. The air between us crackles with tension, thick and heavy. Olvaar's eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me.

I try to crush the hope.

But my heart pounds in my chest as I stare into Olvaar's eyes. All I can focus on is the heat of his body against mine, his breath mingling with my own. My lips part involuntarily, and I see his gaze flicker down to them. The air between us is electric, charged with an undeniable tension that's been building for weeks.

And I want to give in so bad.

Olvaar's hand slides from my wrist to my waist, pulling me closer. I lean in, my body moving of its own accord. My eyes start to close as the distance between us shrinks, the anticipation of his lips on mine making me dizzy.

Just as I feel the whisper of his breath on my lips, a loud voice shatters the moment.

"V! Urgent news!"

We spring apart as if burned. I stumble backward, my face flushing hot with embarrassment and frustration. Olvaar's expression darkens, his eyes flashing with anger as he whirls to face the intruder.

Malakai stands at the edge of the courtyard, smirking as he takes us in. He only raises a brow as Olvaar's furious glare.

"What is it?" Olvaar snarls.

Kaz walks up then, and I feel like I could die of humiliation right now. He looks between the two of us, and then at Malakai. "Your immediate attention is required," the spymaster simply says.

"We have news about the southern territories," Kaz adds.

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm air. The spell is broken, reality crashing back in. What was I thinking? What were we about to do? I know with certainty, it wouldn't have stopped with a kiss..

Olvaar's jaw clenches as he glances back at me. Gold and blue swirl in the depths, portraying his anger and… his desire? I'm still piecing together what the colors mean while the rest of his face stays unreadable.

"We'll continue this lesson another time," he says gruffly, not quite meeting my gaze.

I nod, not trusting my voice. As Olvaar strides away, following two of his advisors, I'm left standing alone in the courtyard. My body still tingles from his touch, my lips aching for a kiss that never came.

Confusion and frustration war within me. What just happened? What would have happened if we hadn't been interrupted? And why does a part of me desperately wish we had been?

I think about that for so long that it doesn't occur to me that he didn't invite me to join them.