He kissed her jaw, her throat , just below her ear where her pulse pounded so sweetly.
Her breath hitched. “Kael…”
He stilled. One more second and he wouldn’t be able to stop.
She pulled back, panting, her forehead resting against his. Her lips swollen, her eyes dazed.
“I want to Kael. But . . . I'm in more pain than I care to admit.” she whispered.
Kael froze, the warmth of the moment shattering like glass.
His hands had found her waist, had pulled her close — to close in her condition.
"Gods," he hissed, recoiling like he'd touched flame. "I forgot in the moment — damn it, Maris, I —"
He raked a hand through his hair, jaw tight, shame crawling down his spine like cold iron.
"I shouldn't have —" His voice broke on the edge of restraint.
" You're hurt,forgive me." He begged
The truth was simple even broken, she undid him. And he hated himself for letting desire come before her pain.
"Kael." Her voice stopped him from unraveling further — quiet but certain.
She reached for him, her fingers curling around his hand. Even through the faint tremble of pain, her grip was steady.
"I'm okay, you didn't hurt me. Not really." She said, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.
He looked down at her, his silver eyes shadowed, jaw still locked with restraint. But she tugged gently. pulling him closer.
"Lay with me," she whispered.
Kael hesitated only a breath longer — then let himself sink beside her, carefully. His hand remained in hers, held not out of guilt now, but something far more fragile.
She let her head rest against his shoulder, breath steadying with the rhythm of his own.
-Maris-
The fire dimmed to glowing coals. The city sounds faded beneath thick stone and shuttered windows, muffled as if they’d been swallowed whole.She hadn’t meant to stay in his arms. Truly.
But his hand was warm on the small of her back, fingers slow and reverent as he stroked the fabric of her shift like she might vanish if he touched too hard. His breath was steady against the top of her head. His bare skin beneath her palm felt more than male, something ancient, unmoving, protective.
She should have pulled away. But the ache in her shoulder where the poison had struck throbbed dully, and the rest of her — her heart, her pulse, the loneliness that had clawed inside her ribs since childhood, all of that ached louder.
So she stayed. She lay curled into Kael’s side on the wide inn bed, wrapped in one of his worn shirts, the scent of forest and frost and faint spice still clinging to it. Her fingers idly traced a line across the low runes etched into his chest.
They didn’t speak. Not at first
Not until her voice finally broke the silence. Soft.
“Have you ever felt seen?”
Kael exhaled a breath like he’d been holding it all night. “No.”
His voice was low, almost rough. “Not truly. I was born a weapon. Raised as a King. But seen?” He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “I think people only see what they fear in me. Or what they want from me.”
Maris nodded slowly, cheek pressed to the firm wall of his chest. “That’s how I felt in Eryndor. Unseen.”
