Orphic (#1 in the Hajar series)

nine

"Farah..." He trailed off, his eyes altered their direction, watching her with sympathy. "There was no one there." Israfil couldn't help but feel piteous towards her. She had been through way more than she should of at that age. While he didn't know exactly what she had experienced, he knew that it was nowhere near normal. But he would find out what Noah had done to her, and for that Israfil knew he would make Noah's death torturous and slow.

"But," She uttered. "I saw him- I swear." Farah breathed out.

One of Israfil's hands released from the steering wheel, his skin leaving the leather material before he cautiously reached out and grabbed her hand with his own. He intertwined their fingers and set it in the middle console. He could tell that she was hesitant towards him, and acknowledged that. But her touch soon melted into his own, desperate for any form of comfort and solace.

"You're safe with me," He assured. "Always."

Farah offered him a tremulous smile, "Thank you, Israfil."

His eyes moved from the road again, glancing at her. "For what?"

Farah suddenly felt timid. "You offered me, a complete stranger, a place in your home, with free food and no charge. You extricated me, on more than one occasion. And I haven't been kind to you either." She paused for a moment. "I didn't deserve it. The kindness, I mean. I was just an inconvenience."

"That's not true, Farah." He chastised, his voice remaining tender. "You deserve kindness." His words were that of truth, spoken from an honest voice. "Don't be so critical of yourself. You're not an inconvenience. You're so much more than that."

"Like what?" She questioned.

My mate.

Someone who was destined to spend the rest of their life with me and bear my children, Israfil mumbled in his head with sarcasm.

"A friend." He responded through gritted teeth, taken aback by his stupid answer. But he knew that she had gone through enough, the last thing she needed was to find out that he could turn into a wolf at any given time.

"A friend." She repeated with feigned excitement. But secretly, she felt disappointment simmer in her stomach, but quickly fixed her resolve and mentally scolded herself for even thinking such thoughts. He was her friend. Nothing more and nothing less. Anything more than a friend would be too illicit.

She was left questioning her dispirited state.

--

When they returned later in the afternoon, just after sunset, the sky was a deep navy blue, almost a black. The streets of Los Angeles were illuminated by luminous building lights peeking through the windows, rare pink flourishing blossom trees causing a fit of blur of rose as they passed by them. One of Farah's favorite things to gaze at was the city lights from tall skyscrapers and orange-gold streetlights that glared upon the streets.

Israfil could feel a presence in their house as soon as they entered, his eyes narrowed and whizzing through the darkness for a threat. He stood broad and towering in front of Farah, protective of her. He had no clue who was in his home, but he was on full guard.

"Stay here." He ordered, his voice gruff.

The living room light was already on, providing little illumination to the hallway. When he entered the room, his eyes narrowed at the man tensely situated on his couch. His brother, Azrael, sat with rigidity, his elbows propped up on his knees, running a hand through his dark hair.