He was a Lysian King, and I was the Bavadrin Leader Superior. For the first time, we were both free, standing on our own two feet, our actions no one’s but our own. What he said before placed invisible walls between us, though the way he spoke now, it was as if the only thing between us was air.
He looked around playfully. “It leaves us in this here tree house, I suppose.”
He pulled back, turning the conversation light, but I did not want to go down that path. I wished to continue the uncomfortable one, where we could show one another our truths.
“You know.” My tongue flicking out to wet my lips, which had gone dry under his piercing gaze. His sapphire eyes followed the movement, dipping to my mouth before returning to meet my stare. “I care about you, too.” My voice was soft but steady, a quietadmission that felt like pushing open a door—a door I feared would be slammed shut in my face. Again.
Over the days I’d spent among the Lysians, something shifted within me, between us. The Lysian I once feared, who threatened my entire world, had become something else entirely. I did not know when it happened, or perhaps I was afraid to see the truth and thus blinded myself to it.
But like a sapling drawn irresistibly to the sun, I found myself drawn to Erik. His presence magnetic.
“I know,” he said quietly, his voice stripped of its playfulness, leaving only sincerity.
I leveled my gaze, meeting his. “How do you know?” It felt as though I stood on the edge of a cliff. If I jumped, would there be anything to catch me?
He angled his head, a trace of a smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. “You mean, besides when you tended my wounds in that Bavadrin prison?”
I nodded, though that moment hadn’t meant anything specific—just a helping someone unjustly injured.
Erik took a step closer, and suddenly the air between us became thinner, harder to pull into my lungs. His presence was overwhelming, as though he had summoned every ounce of his power into this moment. “When you cooked that favorite meal of yours,” he said softly, “there was a light in your eyes when you watched me take that first bite. I’ll never forget it. It is a fond memory.” His smile deepened, though his tone remained serious. “When you escaped, you did so with care—not harming any Lysians. And you released me when you had every right to imprison me. Even to kill me.” Another step. “That wasn’t even the first time you spared my life.”
My pulse quickened, betraying me.
“And,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “there’s the way your heartbeat races every time I near you.”
My heart stuttered, as if responding to his words directly. “I thought it was just fear.”
His mouth twitched, holding back a smile. “It’s not fear.”
He stepped closer again, and the space between us nearly disappeared.The raw power coming from him was palpable. He was an imposing force—his heat, his strength, his sheer authority pressing in on me.
His presence didn’t terrify me like it once had; it consumed me. His gaze was a physical thing, searing over my skin, while his scent, rich and heady, wrapped around me, drowning out the world. The sight of him was breathtaking. He held my senses firmly captive, and I wanted him to take two more. To touch him. Taste him.
I rooted myself in place, refusing to back away, refusing to create space.
Erik’s hand moved with a deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing my hip. The touch was light, almost tentative, testing—offering me a chance to retreat. His hand slid upward, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, every brush of his fingers igniting something deep within me.
When I didn’t pull away, he closed in.
I stared straight ahead, unable to look anywhere else. It was as though my body had forgotten how to move, how to breathe. My gaze fixed on the rise and fall of his chest, his broad, muscular frame a wall before me.
Erik’s hand drifted upward, gliding over my arm, before settling at my neck. His thumb pressed softly under my chin, tilting my face upward, and I found myself locked in his dark eyes. His gaze blazed, unnerving, yet impossibly warm.
I was so hopelessly drawn to him, every part of him.
Spirit, help me.
It was as though he sensed my thoughts. The energysurrounding him shifted again, slowing further, becoming heavier, more intimate. My breathing faltered under the weight of it.
When I still didn’t move, still didn’t run, he leaned in. Unhurriedly, carefully, his head dipped, and he stopped just shy of my lips. He didn’t close the gap—waiting, silently asking for permission.
Drawn like a moth to a flame, I rose onto my toes, closing that final sliver of space between us.
My lips brushed against his, soft and searching. He kissed me. It started tenderly as if he was afraid he might hurt me.
But I was not made of glass.
My lips parted for him, inviting him in. His tongue swept through, exploring and deliciously thorough. The taste of him only made me hunger for more as my tongue met his stroke for stroke. His tenderness transformed in response. Feather-light touches gave way to something deeper, hungrier, rawer. With every heartbeat, the kiss grew in intensity, a wildfire spreading between us. I matched his fervor, meeting him with the same untamed need that clawed at my chest.
