“Are you sure you are ready to do this?” He asked as he pulled a dark blue t-shirt over his head, the bed sagging as he moved to sit in front of me, the cold necklace between us.
I said nothing as I reached forward and wiped a small streak of shaving cream that he had missed off the side of his face. My fingers were soft as they ran over his chin, lingering against the warmth of his skin.
Our eyes met as his thoughts washed over me. The tenderness of his desire and the strength of his concern caught in my chest.
“I’m sure,” I squeaked out, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to calm his fears.
He nodded once as the knock sounded again, this time considerably louder and more impatient.
“I will be here, mi lasko,” Ilyan sighed before leaning forward and placing his lips against my forehead, the touch soft and gentle. My magic reacted to the connection, the flow warming as my stomach tightened in fear and love, the two emotions feeling rancid against each other.
I sighed as I pushed the last of my anxiety out, knowing it would return to plague me much sooner than I wanted. Ilyan's fingers lingered against mine until he pulled away, his steps slow and confident as he moved toward the door.
I watched him until the door began to swing open, my mind suddenly panicking at what was about to happen. I wanted to look away—I knew I needed to—but I couldn’t. The frantic beating of my heart had frozen me in place. My eyes were glued to Ilyan’s back as he talked in rapid Czech to whoever was on the other side. I could feel his own nerves peak before I pushed them away, trying not to focus on his emotions and thoughts that were hardwired into my brain.
The sound of chicken scratches hit the air as whoever he was talking to replied, their voice deep and staccato in the Slavic language.
Ilyan nodded once before exiting the room, the door shutting behind him without him even looking back toward me.
My arms wound tightly around my waist, my fear dripping over my back as I watched the door. The room seemed to grow colder the longer I was left alone, my tongue feeling like lead in my mouth.
I stared at the large wooden door as if it was going to change, a ridiculous part of me scared that it would somehow disappear. Even though I knew the fear was foolish, I couldn’t seem to push it away, and the worry only grew the longer I waited.
My breath finally escaped my chest when the door clicked open again. Everything relaxed until my father stepped past the open frame, only to close the door right behind him.
I stiffened at seeing him there, at being alone with him. My shoulders knit together as my eyes narrowed dangerously. I wasn't sure what he was doing coming in here. I didn’t want him here. He hadn't really shown much interest in me beyond planning for my ultimate demise and yelling at me over my lack of knowledge. It wasn’t something I wanted to continue—not right now when everything felt so close to a meltdown.
I clenched my teeth as he came closer, my fingers knotting around the fabric of my shirt until they dug into my skin in my attempt to disappear into myself. To disappear from him.
“Hello, Joclyn.” The words sounded more like the formal greeting you would give to someone you didn’t really know, and in a way, I guess we didn’t know each other.
I nodded once in silence, my eyes narrowing as I glared into him, hoping the look would be enough to scare him off, but I knew better.
He continued moving closer until he sat across from me, his body far enough away that I couldn’t reach him, which was probably a good thing. I didn’t want him to touch me, either.
I didn’t trust myself enough to know what I would do if he did.
Sain didn’t even look at me; he only smiled sadly at the necklace before reaching out and picking it up, his hand curving around it as he tested its weight. I cringed as he held it in his hand, my frustration swelling as I tried to ignore the surge of ownership that welled up inside of me. I didn't know where the selfish emotion had come from, but it scared me, the sensation unwelcome.
I had no ownership over what my father held in his hands. I didn’t want any ownership of it, not anymore. Which only made my reaction all the more unwanted.
He looked at the necklace like he was proud of it, a look I was not sure he had ever given me as of yet. Awe, surprise, disgust, yes, but not pride. Not the look a father is supposed to give his daughter. I swallowed heavily and looked to him again, startled to find him peering at me, his eyes darker than they had been before.
“This is a good thing you are doing, Joclyn,” he said, his voice so distant that I wouldn’t have been sure he was really talking to me if he hadn’t said my name. “It will be hard for him to accept this gift, but he needs to; he cannot be himself without it.”