Eryshae

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Caldris

The doors flew open with a bang so bold it rattled the hanging glassware. Of course it was Thorian.

Caldris leaned back in her seat, glass in hand, and watched the spectacle unfold. Thorian strode into the spa bar like a conquering hero returned from war; boots polished, shoulders broad, chin high. He moved with practiced ease, reveling in the weight of every gaze drawn his way.

And then Vael entered behind him. Even Caldris had to admit: the girl looked divine. Emerald silk clung to her like light clings to moonlit water. Her hair, swept up into a style equal parts elegant and effortless, revealed the graceful line of her neck and the faintest glimmer of jewelry at her ears. She didn't just walk; she glided, carrying herself with the poise of someone who didn't yet understand the power she wielded. Caldris's gaze flicked to Sam.

He was wrecked. She saw the moment the breath left him. His eyes widened, lips parted slightly; and then came the telltale drip of crimson. He pinched his nose, blinking rapidly, scrambling for subtlety. Caldris arched a brow behind her glass.

Poor fool. She hid her grin and took a slow sip, watching the way Vael's attention wandered the room, blissfully unaware of the chaos she left in her wake. And then her eyes slid to Thorian and Sam again; the two men caught in the same orbit, impossibly different.

Thorian moved like he belonged on a stage, perfectly framed and lit, his voice tuned for an audience. Every step was a declaration. Every grin, a performance. He craved attention; not out of insecurity, no, but because he believed the world was simply more alive when it revolved around him.

Sam, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to disappear into the woodgrain of the table. He didn't seek attention; didn't want to be seen; but Vael had caught him all the same. It was in the way he looked at her. Not as a possession, not as a prize. There was heat, sure, but also reverence. Like he was watching something holy he didn't think he deserved.

Two men. One storm. Different kinds of fire. Caldris set her glass down gently and folded her arms, intrigued. This night might be fun after all.

Caldris tapped the edge of the bar twice, her fingernails clicking against the polished wood in a rhythm as old as her patience. A bartender, a wiry man with a thick beard and knowing eyes, gave her a nod and immediately started crafting two more drinks. She didn't need to look to know Thorian had spotted her; his dramatic flair came with the confidence of a man born to be seen. She felt his stride before she heard it, bold and unrelenting, cutting through the bar's din like a knife. But her eyes weren't on him.

They were on Vael. Specifically, the way Vael's face shifted the moment her gaze found Sam; an instant brightening, as if someone had lit a lantern behind her eyes. Subtle, but unmistakable. Her lips parted just slightly, and the tension in her shoulders melted. That was a look Caldris had only seen in stories. Or dreams.

Thorian reached her side, standing tall and proud, and she felt his presence like heat. He always carried it; this intense, magnetic pull. But her thoughts lingered on Sam. Sam, who slouched when he laughed, who fidgeted when nervous, who wore the weight of the world like a backpack he refused to set down. Where Thorian commanded attention, Sam earned it; quietly, unconsciously. And somehow… She liked that better. She didn't turn to Thorian immediately. Instead, she smiled faintly to herself and reached for the drinks, letting the moment settle in her chest. Let them all come together now. The game was just beginning.

Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Vael slid onto Sam's lap. Caldris arched her brow, though the smirk on her lips was indulgent. Vael's movement was fluid, practiced in a way that made Caldris wonder how many nights they'd already spent in each other's arms. The emerald silk of Vael's robes shimmered as she settled in, drawing more than a few stolen glances from the other patrons. But none of them dared linger; not with Thorian's presence looming so nearby.

The bartender returned just then, setting down two more drinks; a rich plum-colored cordial in a short crystal glass, and a clear, herb-laced tonic with a twist of lime. Caldris took hers in hand. Her gaze remained locked on the couple next to her. Vael turned her head slightly, murmuring something into Sam's ear. Whatever it was made him chuckle low and breathy, a sound that vibrated up Caldris' spine with secondhand amusement.

Before Caldris could take her first sip, a familiar presence closed in behind her; heat, shadow, and hunger wrapped in flesh and steel.

Thorian. His arms slid around her waist with practiced ease, drawing her back into the solid line of his body. One gloved hand flattened against her stomach while the other rested lower; possessive, effortless, unashamed. The scent of wind-swept mountains and iron clung to him, a primal comfort Caldris had grown far too used to craving.

Then came his mouth at her neck. Not a kiss. Not exactly. His lips brushed the hollow just beneath her ear, a mere whisper of contact before the barest edge of teeth grazed her skin; just enough to make her breath catch in her throat. A thrill knifed through her, sharp and delicious. She bit back a sigh and instead smiled, lazily swirling the contents of her glass. "You're going to distract me," she murmured, not turning her head.

"I intend to," Thorian said low against her skin, voice thick with velvet and gravel. "Though I'll admit, your eyes on her were distracting me first." Caldris tilted her head slightly, granting him better access. "She's just radiant when she's in love," she said. "You noticed it too, didn't you?" Thorian's chuckle vibrated through her bones. "Hard not to. She lit up like the first star at dusk." Caldris finally brought her drink to her lips. "Then drink, my love," she said softly. "The night is just beginning."

Caldris tilted her head just enough for Thorian's lips to find the curve of her neck again, his teeth grazing her skin with a teasing scrape that sent shivers down her spine. She let the sensation linger before twisting slightly in his arms, sapphire hair sliding over her bare shoulder like silk. "I want to play beach volleyball," she murmured, the words half a challenge, half an invitation.

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Thorian's laugh was bold and warm, vibrating against her back. "Ohh really, my sweets? Shall we lay siege and conquer the beach?" Before she could answer, he turned his head toward the bar where Vael was still perched on Sam's lap, their drinks in hand. A sly spark danced in his eyes. "Cousin," Thorian called, his voice carrying just enough to pull Vael's gaze from Sam. "Would you and your beloved like to join us and form a team?"

Vael swirled the last of her drink, eyes glinting with amusement. "Beach volleyball?" she drawled, tilting her head toward Thorian with a mischievous smile. "Careful, cousin, you know I don't play fair." Sam leaned back slightly, arm resting possessively around her waist. "You don't play fair at all," he muttered, lips quirking. "And if you did, it wouldn't be in public." Vael's smirk deepened as she shifted just enough to meet his gaze head-on. "What's the matter? Afraid of a little competition?"

"I'm not afraid of losing," Sam said, his tone deliberately slow, "I'm afraid of what you consider winning..." Caldris chuckled low, catching the way Vael's fingers tapped along Sam's arm; half a dare, half a promise. Thorian grinned like a man already picturing victory. "Well then," he declared, "I suppose we'll just have to find out the hard way, won't we?"

The group rose together, laughter trailing behind them as they made their way down the boardwalk. The night air was heavy with salt and the faint hum of music from the bars they passed. Vael kept close at Sam's side, brushing against him with every other step, her glance slipping up at him in calculated intervals. Sam said nothing, but his grip at her waist tightened just enough for her to notice.

Ahead, the soft glow of torches spilled across the sand, outlining the volleyball net in gold. The sound of thudding footsteps, shouts, and the slap of the ball against hands grew louder with each step; until the heat between them was almost as thick as the warm ocean breeze.

Sand sprayed underfoot as they reached the court, the salty wind ruffling hair and tugging at loose shirts. The sun beat down, making the golden grains almost shimmer. A group of four strangers already occupied one side of the net; bronzed skin, confident grins, and the kind of cocky body language that dared someone to challenge them.

Thorian didn't bother with subtlety. "Four on four," he called, his voice carrying easily over the crash of waves. "Unless you're afraid to lose to a bunch of newcomers." One of the men across the net scoffed and twirled the ball in his hands. "We'll see how long you last."

Caldris bounced lightly on her toes, her sapphire hair flashing in the sun. Vael, still riding the playful spark from the bar, rolled her shoulders like a predator about to pounce. Sam lingered behind her, looking unconvinced this was a good idea but too stubborn to back down now.

The ball was tossed high into the air. The match began.

The serve came fast, smacking into the sand just inside the line. Caldris dove, one hand slicing under the ball to pop it back into the air. Thorian was already there, leaping high and spiking it with a force that made their opponents scramble.

Vael didn't wait for the perfect setup; she lunged in with sharp, decisive hits, each one aimed like she was hunting prey. Caldris's movements were light and fluid, more dance than sport, spinning to keep the ball alive no matter how awkward the angle.

Sam started stiff, overthinking every step, but something in the rhythm hooked him. His feet found the beat of the game, and when the ball came his way, he slammed it over the net with a grin he didn't realize he was wearing. The cheer from his team lit something warm in his chest.

On the other side, their opponents were no slouches; matching power for power, speed for speed. The air between the two sides thickened, each point snatched away feeling like a tiny victory. The tension wasn't just in the score now. It was in the way no one wanted to be the first to break.

The ball shot high over the net, spinning toward the back corner. Vael sprinted after it with long, loping strides, her laughter sharp as the sea breeze. Caldris dove beside her, fingers grazing the ball to send it arcing back up. Thorian thundered forward, the sand exploding under his steps, spiking it with a force that made the opposing team scramble. Sam threw himself sideways, catching the rebound just before it hit the ground.

The rally roared on; grunts, shouts, and the thump of the ball. Feet pounded, sand sprayed, and the rhythm built until it felt like none of them were breathing. Then the last desperate volley came; three players from both sides lunging, colliding mid-air before crashing into the sand in a heap.

For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of waves and ragged breathing; then laughter broke out, wild and unrestrained. Thorian pushed himself up from the sand, brushing grains from his chest as his gaze lingered just a little too long on Sam.

"Careful, Faeloc," he drawled with a crooked smirk. "Keep diving like that and I'll start thinking you're trying to impress me." A few chuckles rippled around, but the gleam in his eyes made it unclear whether he was joking; or laying down a challenge.

Thorian's smirk was still hanging in the air when a shadow cut across the sand. "Ball's in!" someone barked. The serve came screaming over the net before Sam could even open his mouth. He scrambled to his feet, still half-winded from the dive, Thorian's words echoing in his head as the game yanked him back into motion. The rally was already a blur; sand spraying, bodies lunging, the smack of hands on the ball; fun tilting hard into a fight neither side wanted to lose.

The ball popped high, and Thorian was already there, surging in with a sharp, almost taunting, "Mine." As Thorian smashed the ball down hard, Sam's eyes locked with his for a heartbeat; fierce, electric, and charged with competition. The world narrowed to that instant, the tension between them almost tangible amidst the pounding surf and the roar of the game.

The spike slammed into the other side's defense, ricocheted back; harder. Sam dove, chest skimming the grit, fingertips punching it up just enough. Laughter bubbled at the edges of the chaos; half thrill, half challenge; as bodies twisted and leapt, shadows strobing in the sun.

A girl on the far side sent a wicked cut shot down the line. Sam barely got there in time, flicking it back over his shoulder. Thorian was airborne again, the net shaking under his weight as he hammered it down. Sand sprayed like shrapnel when it hit, the final thud sharp as a heartbeat. Silence for a breath;then cheers, groans, and the scoreboard flipping dead even. Across the net, their opponents were grinning. So were they.

The salt air stung Caldris' lungs, but she barely noticed. Her fingers tingled with the burn of sand and sweat, every nerve alive in the heat of the moment. Around her, the world had narrowed to the net, the ball, and the way the opposing team's eyes flickered with challenge.

Thorian's voice was a low rumble at her side, steady and grounding. "Final round," he said. "You ready?" Caldris' sapphire hair clung damply to her neck, braided tight but tousled from the chase. She nodded, lips curling into a confident smile. "Let's finish this."

The serve came fast, but Caldris was faster. She darted left, then right, eyes sharp as a hawk's; reading the angles, the rhythm, the subtle tells. The ball popped high over her head, and she sprung, arms reaching wide. With a deft twist of her wrist, Caldris sent the ball flying in a blazing arc, aiming for the far corner; just out of reach. The opposing player lunged but the sand swallowed their fingertips.

The ball hit down hard. The whistle blew. "Point, team Eryshae," the referee called. Vael let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and glanced back at Sam, whose grin was wide enough to split his face. Thorian was already clapping, his eyes gleaming with pride and something deeper, something unspoken. Caldris caught Vael's hand, squeezing it in quiet celebration. Victory tasted like salt and sun and something fiercely sweet.