Tangan Di Iris Novels & Stories

But the quietness also made the space feel bigger , almost secred. Iris step into the dirt slowly, her heart tapping gently against her rips. Weapons layed neatly on a stand ... Swords, Spares, Daggers , all polished. She reached out, her fingers trembling a bit. " I C...can do this" Just try, she wispered to herself. her eyes landed on a training sword, it was one of the lighter ones worriors use for beginners, she wrapped her hands around the handles, And tried to lift it. It bearly moved.

Iris still watched me with careful eyes and I burned under that scrutiny. Too many thoughts rushed through my mind all at once, and I chose to grab onto the one that promised to bring a temporary solution. Leaping, I stretched a hand toward Iris’ face, but she was too fast; she caught my hand before it could even complete its mission. Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?” I swallowed. “I just wanted to pinch your cheek to be sure that you're real.” She tilted her head to the side as though she needed to watch me from a new angle to truly understand me. “So me holding you by the hand is not enough.”

I just stayed still. She raised her hand, hovering it inches from my chest. The space between us tightened — not with tension, but with something older. Healers had their own way of seeing, and Iris was one of the rare few who didn’t need spells or incense or stones. Then the room was silent, Her eyes closed immediately. Then her brows pulled together. Her hand trembled — not from fear. From recognition. “There’s something here,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Not yours. Not his. It’s wrapped around the bond like a second skin… a film.”

“Oh, what have they done to you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” That finally kickstarts Iris again. She shakes her head. “There was nothing you could have done, Tilda. Please don’t blame yourself.” Tilda looks like she wants to say something, but she pauses and sniffs the air. Then she’s looking over Iris with more scrutiny. When her gaze reaches Iris’ hands, she’s pulling them up and forcing them open.

" I ordered. Without question, he yanked off the tubes passed into Iris body, supporting her to her feet with his arms around her shoulder. "Loose him." She winced, supporting her weight with her hands on the edge of the bed. Klien rushed over to my side, cutting off the tubes on my hands with his claws. "My Lord!" The pain in his voice was pulpable. Just then, Iris crumbled on her knees and hands, coughing out the purple liquid. Some trickled out of her nose, splotching the white tiles below her pale face. "Iris!" I fell out of the bed in a frenzy, dislocating my left shoulder blade in the process. Her entire system had been soaked in the liquid, as mine was bathed in silver.

“Do you have a hand cream or something?” “I think so,” Iris said and began to look around for her handbag. Garvin picked it for her from the back seat and gave her to bring out the hand cream. Pouring a generous amount in his palm, he rubbed it together, at the same time issuing a warning, “It might hurt a little but the pain will be relieved.” Iris nodded her head but as soon as Garvin’s moistened hand came into contact with her thighs and began to move up and down, she stiffened.

But Autumn, as always, was playing the same game Iris played, but better, the quiet victim. Ivan swiftly intervened, positioning himself between the two sisters. His gentle fingers began to massage the crimson mark on Autumn's cheek, but she recoiled at his touch, her eyes welling up with tears. Each tender caress of his thumb sent a wave of discomfort through her, and she flinched, her body language screaming in protest. As Ivan's gaze shifted to Iris, his expression transformed into a fierce glare.

The always hidden face was visible in front of Hana. Traces of being tortured by someone were imprinted on Sirrius' face. The irises disappeared completely as if they had been cut off by something. Sirrius could only use one remaining eye. Hana didn't let her soft emotions take hold for too long; the next arrow launched by her faster than before.

It was Matt’s voice; I was Matt. Iris’s green eyes were quivering in fear, almost on the edge of tears. Her eyes were nonverbally pleading with me, but I didn’t understand what she wanted me to do. A large man with dirty, greasy brown hair held Iris down by her neck on top of a blood-stained table. She also wore the same silver cuffs as me; she looked like she was much worse off than me. Claw marks were all over her body.

Every heartbeat in the valley below, every drop of moisture in the clouds above, and most importantly, I felt the tether. The silver line connecting my soul to the woman gasping for air at my feet. I turned to Iris. She was pale, her hand clutching the wound on her neck where I’d marked her. But she wasn't looking at me with fear. She was looking at me with a sharp, calculating wonder. "Darius?" she whispered.