Lyra's POV
As I turned to pick up the clattering items, a little gust of wind brushed my arm. I didn't need to turn to know he had disappeared again from me.
I grunted softly, dropping the items back to the floor. I strolled two feet forward and threw myself onto the bed with a slow, lengthy sigh.
I stared at the ceiling, memories of the day drifting slowly back to my mind. Heat stained my cheeks when the memory of him growling at Alfred brushed my mind, and my face dissolved slowly into a smile. He wouldn't admit it. But I could tell he had done that because of me.
Then I thought about the time he'd almost kissed me. I brushed my fingers over my lips gently, feeling them heat up as they did in the tailor's shop when he leaned low to kiss me. I shouldn't have turned away then. But I didn't want him to drop me like he did in the bathroom. I didn't want to glimpse that look in his eyes that told me I meant nothing to him. A speck of his future self's desire for me might reside in this version of him. Yet, he was still the version of a past that doesn't know me—he was still the version of a man I loved and who doesn't love me.
Gradually, my mind drifted to every memory since I had arrived in the past, every event that had happened, while my eyes traced the stone blocks of the ceiling. Sometimes I smiled, sometimes I laughed—other times I frowned and grunted with anger, especially when the memory involved Zarek.
My mind drifted to the future Draziel. What was he doing right now? Was he searching for a way to travel back in time without his sword and come get me? Or had he already found a way but was sifting through every timeline just to find me?
I didn't know how long I had spent with my memories and thoughts, but my eyes drifted to the windows—the half-circular structures that seemed like they had been hastily chopped off the wall—and I watched the sun fall outside. The almost golden hue lost behind a veil of sullen clouds. Yet, the presence of the sun still shone in the bright golden tresses that ran through the clouds, still keeping the underworld illuminated.
Time in the underworld was different from the real world. While the real world worked with a ratioed system of time and day. In the underworld, a day could last more than a month relative to the real world, and the same with the night.
I didn't know how much time had passed as I sat up slowly from the bed, but I could instinctively tell it was more than two hours. I could have been sure if I were in the future, since the future Draziel brought a wall clock to the castle because of me—but the closest thing to a wall clock the past would have would be a sundial and a star dial, and only Varin would probably know how to use them.
Varin—my lips curled with raw hate as my thoughts drifted to him. I rose up to my feet, strolling for the door. If I wanted to return fast to the future, I had to start doing something. But the problem was—I had no idea what to do.
I shook my head ponderously as I strolled down the hallway. Perhaps this Draziel could help with something to do. I had to get back to the future Draziel, as quickly as I could, before my soul withered away, as Zarek claimed it would.
I swiped my fingers over the balustrade, feeling the damp, stony dust beneath my fingers while I continued down the hallways for Draziel's room.
I stopped by a corridor overlooking the sparring ground downstairs. My fingers brushing over the dusty balustrade froze just like my feet. The grunts and yells and the clashes of steel caught my attention, just like the sweat-glistening dark skins of the powerful bodies sparring downstairs.
Demon males were bigger and broader than humans. Unlike humans, they didn't need months in a gym to get that perfect body—straight, broad, powerful backs with spines stretched taut in-between; hefty biceps, tensed with veins and proportioned in sync with the body; well-chiseled abs that delineated all the squares of the abdomen; and thick, powerful legs—theirs came naturally.
Watching them was like watching male models spar between themselves. It was a sight many ladies would have loved to see. I certainly would—but that was if the guards weren't the same people that had killed me multiple times in the future. I turned away, continuing for Draziel's quarters.
I stopped again, my gaze zooming onto a particular back in the crowd—it was slightly bigger than the others and strained with more power—I could recognize it anywhere—Draziel's. The silver streaks in his jet-black hair shimmered under the fading sun like stardust.
He turned in my direction. Even though I had seen every inch of him in the future—run my hands through every contour of his body. It still didn't prepare me for the sight of this version of him. I sucked in a cold, powerful breath, and my eyes eagerly attacked his body, tracing the sharp lines of his broad and powerful torso, each muscle taut beneath his dark olive skin. His pectorals were full and firm, drumming gently with every breath he took. My eyes trailed lower to his abdomen—to the masterpiece of ridged muscle—lean and chiseled so that every square that made up his packs was delineated properly.
When my eyes moved back to his face, I caught him smiling at me.
God! I snapped my eyes back to the lonely expanse of stone floor stretching down the corridor before me, my cheeks burning from insane heat. He'd caught me staring at him.
Refusing to look at him, I continued slowly down the hallway, lying to myself that the very man I was searching for wasn't downstairs staring at me.
"Lyra, why don't you wait to watch our fight?" Zarek called eagerly from downstairs.
I grunted, clenching my teeth noisily—the bastard. He was there too. I turned slowly to the sparring ground to find him and glare at him with every ounce of hate in me. I didn't need to search much, as he strolled towards Draziel.
He handed Draziel his sword. "I challenged you to a duel, Draziel."
Draziel's gaze flicked over the sword to him, and he chuckled. "What has come over you today, Zarek? You sure don't want to get your ass kicked again. You have never won in a duel against me before."
Zarek grinned, the spark in his face lighting up his dark crimson eyes. He thrust the sword into Draziel's hands, folding Draziel's unwilling fingers around it. "Just take the sword, Draziel. I am sure I am going to win today."
Draziel laughed again, turning back from him, giving me another great view of his torso. My cheeks were burning with heat again as I stared.
"Stop joking around, Zarek. Get dressed. training is over." He said over his shoulder, striding powerfully to the washroom.
Zarek teleported just behind Draziel. "I know you are scared to fight me, Draziel. You are scared to lose in front of Lyra," he said into Draziel's ears, taunting him. His eyes gleaming with mischief.
Draziel grunted, his jaw tightening as if annoyed. Then his eyes jumped to find me in the hallway above the sparring ground—his gaze lingering on me. Yet his lips refused to move. He seemed like he was waiting for my approval.
I wasn't sure. But I nodded my head gently at him. There was nothing I would love more than seeing Zarek's ass being kicked. He could never beat Draziel in a fight, not now and certainly not in the future.
"Okay, Zarek." Draziel said, turning back to Zarek. "I'll make this quick," and then he strode powerfully back into the sparring field.
The guards slowly formed a ring around him and Zarek, all of them chanting his name even before the fight began. It was plain to everyone that Draziel was going to win.
My gaze drifted to Zarek, and I glimpsed a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, a sly grin playing along his lips. The look in his eyes made the hair on my nape and arms stand erect. The bastard was up to something.
Before I could warn Draziel, the both of them were charging fast at each other with their swords.