He whispers an apology in my ear while handing me a steaming cup of tea. I groan in relief and accept his offering. I don’t know when or how touching like this has become commonplace, but right now, I’m not arguing—especially when he’s taking care of me.
I retake my seat, savoring the warmth of the tea, and hear the rustling of paper. When I turn around, I watch him settle onto one of the couches nearby, one long leg propped up against the cushions while the other dangles off the edge.
Even though it’s late, and the rest of the dorm has gone to sleep, he’s still here. For once, I don’t mind having my handsome shadow around. As much as I love this dorm, it can feel a little creepy when you’re alone at night.
The dorm is dark, with only a few dim lights illuminating the walkways. I’m sitting at a desk in the center of the common space with a lamp on. Anders also has a lamp beside him, but that’s the extent of our lighting.
I’m not typically afraid of the dark, but on nights like this, when there’s a strong wind from the north, I dislike the groaning and creaking of the windows and doors.
I look down at my paper and grumble softly to myself out of pure frustration. I’m so close to finishing—I just need to write this last section, and then I can be done. My paper is about the formation of the largest temple dedicated to Astor and Calia on Ista, of all places.
Ista lies within the Oris Kingdom and is relatively remote, being one of the least populated planets in the system. Its primaryindustry is mining, which poses significant hazards. With the advancement of technology, many traditional mining jobs have become obsolete, leaving only a few specialized and dangerous roles. It only makes me question why anyone would construct such a monumental temple in a place so unsuitable for attracting visitors.
The capital of Ista houses fewer than a million residents, and due to the planet’s notoriously harsh weather—its winds and ice-cold rain—most of the population spends a considerable portion of the year indoors. They navigate through a complex network of tunnels carved into the mountains, which serve as passageways. Their oceans are filled with extreme currents and icebergs, making the few smaller landmasses within them uninhabitable.
Historians suggest that the original temple was built around ten thousand years ago, but they lack evidence to support their claims. All they have are samples recently collected, dating back to the planet’s creation era. I’ve read their notes and analyses, but I remain skeptical. Placing the origins of the first temple still feels more like speculation than fact.
The original temple showed no signs of deterioration, but a new temple was constructed over it, effectively burying the original for “preservation purposes.” The new temple is five times larger than the original. As I continue reading, I learn that because Ista doesn’t have much to offer in terms of tourism, its leaders focused instead on the faithful, using pilgrimages as income.
Creative, I’ll give them that.
Today, the current temple attracts over fourteen million visitors to Oris’ capital each year, transforming their little colony into one of the largest travel destinations and essentially doubling their population each month. I’ve had the opportunity to visit it myself, which makes this assignment even more engaging. Now, if I can just get my brain to form coherent sentences.
I drop my head into my arms and yawn again before turning back to look at Anders, finding him asleep. I shut off my tablet, pack my bag, and turn off the light before approaching him. There’s no sense instaying up any longer. It would be better to get some sleep and finish the assignment in the morning.
Kneeling beside Anders, I hesitate to wake him. It’s only the second time I’ve seen him unguarded, his features so at ease. Dark hair tumbles over his forehead, lashes black as ink resting against high cheekbones. But it’s his lips that undo me… What is it about them that drives me insane?
Gods, how did I get here? So drawn to the one man I should never want. The truth is, I crave him with a desperation that feels almost primal—as urgent as my next breath. I can’t pinpoint where this feeling comes from; I just know it’s there, and I’m tired of fighting it.
He inhales deeply, and my eyes are drawn to his tattoo. The design is so clean and detailed. I sigh and place my hand on his, which rests over his chest. If I sit here any longer, I will become a certified creep.
“Hey,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. An explosion of longing and desire swells within me. I wonder if this feeling will ever stop, lessen, or become easier to ignore. My hand tingles where it rests against his, but I can’t pull my eyes away from his face. I shake him lightly again, and he grumbles, slowly opening his eyes.
Some emotion flashes across the sapphire depths as he links his warm, calloused hand with mine. Neither of us moves as we hold each other’s gaze. If I had to guess, my body is too shocked to continue breathing—every breath feels futile.
His brows furrow before he releases my hand, allowing me to breathe again.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, my voice shaking. “I just didn’t want to leave you down here.” His eyes bounce between mine as if he’s studying me or searching for something. His hand, still wrapped around his book, releases the older tome and moves to cup my face, his thumb brushing a strand of hair back.
“Do you even realize the effect you have on me? You’re breathtaking,” he mutters before dropping his hand and standing up. He reaches out, offering me his hand. I take it, standing beside him in stunned silence. He can’t just say things like that—it’s not fair.
“C’mon, sleepyhead,” he rumbles, his voice deep and laced withsleep. “Get out of your head.” Somehow, I will my feet to move until I’m in my room, still reeling from the past few minutes.
The sound of trickling water fills the air as I descend the grassy slope toward the river. The trees are nearing the end of their life cycle for the year, their leaves turning a dull green. Soon, they will shed their leaves, and new buds will grow in their place. We refer to this period as the turn of the season, as we approach the point in our orbit that is farthest from the sun.
The grass is long, its tips taking on a soft shade of gold as it sways in the breeze. Pink and white flowers are scattered across the ground around me, their sweet scent now faded and replaced by the fragrance of frost-pine blooms from the surrounding forest. I haven’t spoken to Anders today, but I intend to keep my promise to have lunch with him.
I set my bag beside me, watching the canvas sag as I settle onto the boulder. The sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore fills the air as I pull out my Prism, sending a quick message to my father about our upcoming trip to Kliax. He’s been counting down the days and is just as excited as my mother is for three luxurious days in the warm water.
I feel Anders approaching by the way my skin tingles, and I turn to see him making his way down to me. He’s balancing two dishes in his hands, and I notice his tablet peeking out from the back of his pants. I bite down on my lip to suppress a smile.
For once, I feel relaxed and excited to spend time with him. Now that I’ve stopped denying the pull between us, I want to get to know him. If anything, it’s less exhausting than what felt like trying to swim against an unrelenting current.
“Princess,” he purrs as he plops down beside me, handing me one of the dishes. I accept the container, then allow him to pull his tablet free.
“Here,” I reach out to take it. “I’ll stick it in my bag. Do you need it for Intel today?”
He shakes his head, a brief flicker of appreciation lighting up his eyes. I offer to return it to him during Government.
