Chapter 97: Her Serakai (2)
Music Recommendation: Lover // Over the Moon by Alice Phoebe Lou
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
After bathing, Yoa asked her where Nova wished to rest more. He wouldn’t be there when she woke up, and hated that he had to leave her, but his duty called to him. She could sense it down the bond, how he disliked leaving her so soon, but needing to patrol as a sensation similar to that of a cat pitter-pattering down his back grew firmer. It must have been the call of Tayun.
After learning more about how he became Yiska, Nova didn’t let him explain further for a moment more. She knew how important it was and she didn’t feel bad at all at the idea of being left after they’d spent the evening together in utter bliss.
Still, he worried. She could sense it. The last time he’d left her in the treehouse, he’d returned to discover his enemy dared to kidnap her and brand her with a false Nokari bond.
"I’m not going anyway," she whispered, answering his silent concerns before he could voice them. Yoa pressed his head to hers, and remained like that for a moment, inhaling her scent, letting it wrap around him more.
Then he laid her down on her chosen hammock. She lay cocooned in it, suspended beneath the canopy, and made herself comfortable. One leg lazily hooked over the side, her fingertips trailing along the edge of the netting. Her body still hummed. It was a deep, velvet kind of ache that came from being completely undone—and then put back together as something more.
Something whole.
Yoa had left her a few moments ago. Not without pressing a kiss to her temple, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, and asking again if she was sure she was alright. She’d answered with a sleepy smile and a nudge to his ribs. He’d left only after arranging fresh fruit near the hammock like she was some jungle goddess in need of spoiling.
And maybe she was.
Nova plucked a slice of mango from the bowl beside her, the juice sweet on her tongue. She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the warmth of the morning, letting herself float between the rustling leaves and the golden haze of memory.
Last night.