Dominance of Veiled Heart

Chapter 33

Tuk, clinging desperately, tried to hold onto the rope that made her body sway frantically. Her palms burned against the rough fibers, sweat stinging as it slipped through her fingers. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!” she shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. For a fleeting moment, she forgot she was addressing a prince and not some clueless friend.

Michaelli, sitting astride Nightfall, didn’t look the least bit concerned. “Calm down. You’re perfectly safe,” he replied, his tone almost bored.

“Perfectly safe? It’s LOOKING at me!” Tuk screeched, her voice shrill with panic. Her gaze locked onto the creature below—it must be the Ony beast, its piercing eyes tracking her every frantic movement. The beast tilted its head, curiosity in the cruel slant of its gaze. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, and Tuk’s legs flailed uselessly in the air. A shiver crept up her spine, coiling tightly around her racing heart. “Oh no, no, no…”

A roar shattered the tension. Nightfall burst into the clearing, Michaelli’s posture regal and composed despite the lethal glint in his eyes. Tuk couldn’t tear her gaze from him, captivated and horrified as he faced the beast without a trace of fear. The prince’s smile was sharp, a predator’s grin.

He drew his black dagger, runes etched into the obsidian pulsing faintly. A few words in a language Tuk didn’t recognize slipped from his lips, and the dagger began to shimmer. Dark liquid oozed from the blade, twisting like a living shadow, and reformed into a sleek, gleaming sword. Michaelli swung the transformed weapon, the air humming with a low, resonant power as he charged at the Onyxariel.

The creature twisted in mid-air, avoiding the slash with a fluidity that seemed almost unnatural. It dived toward the prince, talons raking the earth as Michaelli ducked just in time, his movements swift and purposeful. A rush of wind from the creature’s wings sent leaves scattering, brushing against Tuk’s face. She winced, the rope biting into her ankle as she struggled to hold on.

“Okay, what the hell is happening?” Tuk muttered under her breath, wide-eyed as Michaelli moved with a grace she couldn’t fathom. His weapon shifted again, the blade melting into a whip-like form that snapped through the air and coiled around the Onyxariel’s talon. The beast howled, thrashing, and Michaelli tugged sharply, forcing it into a spiraling descent.

From her precarious perch, Tuk couldn’t help but marvel at the way Michaelli fought, his every motion precise and deliberate. Despite the danger, his smile remained, as if the threat of death was merely an inconvenience.

“Why does he look so smug?” she whispered, irritation sparking through her fear.

The Onyxariel screeched again, wings flapping wildly as it tried to regain balance. Michaelli sidestepped another charge, the weapon in his hand shifting fluidly into a curved blade. With a single swing, he clipped the beast’s wing, sending black feathers cascading down. Tuk flinched as one slapped her cheek.

“Stop enjoying this!” she shouted, her voice louder than she intended. Michaelli glanced up, amusement flickering in his golden eyes.

“I told you to stay still. Do you always talk this much?” he asked, sounding almost playful. “You’re as noisy as a flock of gossiping nobles.”

Tuk swallowed her retort, her heart pounding against her ribs. What was wrong with this guy? Battling a monster like it was a game!

Arguing with the infuriating prince wouldn’t help her escape. It seemed wiser to focus on getting away while the two beasts clashed below. Her fingers cramped as she gripped the rope, and she glanced around for any way to free herself. The rough bark scraped against her thighs, and sweat trickled down her temples.

Her breath caught as the Onyxariel’s gaze snapped upward, locking onto her. Tuk froze, fear clawing at her throat. “Wait... why is it coming at me?!”

The beast’s muscles bunched, ready to pounce. Tuk screamed, thrashing, her mind blank with terror. Michaelli moved faster than she could track, his weapon morphing once more, slicing through the creature’s hind leg with a fluid, practiced motion. The Onyxariel faltered, its screeching wail echoing in the clearing.

Suspended between sheer terror and desperation, Tuk’s frantic eyes darted to the Onyxariel’s shifting stance. Something felt… off. The way its body coiled, the subtle shift of weight—her gut screamed a warning before her brain caught up. It’s preparing to pounce.

The realization snapped into place, sharp as a blade. "Its balance—" she sucked in a breath, barely aware she was speaking. "It shifts its weight to the back legs before it strikes!"

Michaelli’s eyes flicked toward her for a brief moment, his lips curling slightly. “Lucky guess,” he murmured before turning back to the beast.

In one fluid motion, his whipblade lashed out again, slicing with surgical precision through the tendon of the Onyxariel’s hind leg. The creature screeched in pain, its wings flailing wildly as it faltered in the air.

"Bye," Michaelli said with a smile, surging forward with the grace of a predator. He leaped onto the thrashing beast’s back, his movements as fluid as water despite the chaos. The Onyxariel bucked violently, but Michaelli used the momentum to vault higher, closing the gap to the tangled ropes that bound Tuk.

His weapon shifted seamlessly back into a dagger. With a single, decisive stroke, he severed the rope holding Tuk captive. She fell, a cry tearing from her throat.

Before she hit the ground, strong arms caught her, pulling her against a firm chest. Tuk’s breath stuttered, and for a moment, all she could feel was the solid warmth of Michaelli’s body against hers. 

His grip shifted, fingers grazing her chest. The movement was brief—barely more than a brush—but Michaelli stilled. His golden eyes darkened, narrowing ever so slightly.

"You..." The word left his lips softer than usual, but laced with something unreadable. His hand, seemingly reflexive, pressed slightly—too slight for Tuk to register fully, but Michaelli felt it. Something was off. His fingers twitched as if tempted to test further, to confirm.

But in the next breath, his grip adjusted smoothly, moving to her waist instead, the flicker of suspicion vanishing beneath his usual smile.

Tuk barely processed what happened—her mind still stuck in the wild blur of flying, falling, fighting. The pounding of her heart was deafening, yet the world around her had gone eerily still. The only thing she could hear now was Michaelli’s steady, even breathing, his presence solid and too close.

A sharp pulse of something—fear, adrenaline, the unbearable awareness of him—spread through her chest, making her stomach churn. It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t longing. It was... something else entirely—an unsettling proximity that made her skin crawl, like she had just stepped too close to the edge of a cliff without realizing it.

Tuk tried to will herself to feel fear, confusion, anything other than this overwhelming awareness of Michaelli. She wasn’t supposed to react like this. She didn’t react like this. Not to him. Not to anyone.

Her thoughts scrambled, trying to make sense of it. Was it just the chaos of the fight? The fear of almost dying?

But no—it was him—the way he was too close. The way his hand lingered. The pressure of his fingers, brief but too intentional, almost testing. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard.

I’m either going to pass out or throw up. 

Probably both.