Kael entered the kitchen late at night, when the house had already settled into deep silence. He only meant to get some water, but, as always, he found Mrs. Laurent there. The woman stood at the counter, neatly folding towels and tidying up the workspace.
Noticing him, she lifted her gaze and gave a respectful bow.
"Master Dantes, do you need something?"
"Just some water," he replied curtly, nodding toward the carafe at the edge of the table.
Kael stepped forward, took the carafe, and—without waiting for assistance—poured himself a glass. In the quiet, the soft chime of glass against glass sounded unusually loud.
"No need to trouble yourself," he said calmly when the woman automatically reached toward the carafe. "I can manage."
He took a sip, then, lingering a little, shifted his gaze to her.
The woman gave a knowing nod, about to return to her work, when Kael suddenly broke the pause.
"How have you been feeling? Do you have enough medicine?"
She froze in surprise, momentarily at a loss.
"I'm fine, thank you for asking... But how do you know?"
"Auren told me," he answered evenly, setting the glass back down and watching her reaction.
Mrs. Laurent faltered for only a second, but that was enough for him to catch her astonishment. Then a faint, almost thoughtful smile curved her lips.
"So Auren told you..." she repeated softly, shaking her head a little. "I didn't think she'd share something like that. It seems you really have found common ground. After all, when she came back... I didn't expect such a bond between you. In childhood, it was different."
Kael frowned slightly.
"In what way?"
The woman's eyes drifted aside, as if sifting through memories.
"Well... she hardly had any free time back then. Auren was always busy—even too busy for games. Of course, you were raised separately, but it seemed to me that there was more distance between you two than there is now. Though... perhaps that's natural. The children grew up in different circumstances, each with their own duties."
Kael didn't take his eyes off her, while inside him a strange unease began to stir. It felt as if he was reaching for a faint memory slipping out of grasp.
"She was busy because she wanted to help you?" he asked quietly.
Mrs. Laurent nodded slowly, as if weighing her words, but then quickly added:
"That's all in the past. What matters is that now she works for herself, and she's doing well."
Kael looked down at the glass of water, replaying her words in his mind. Something unspoken lay hidden in them.
He lifted his gaze again, and an unpleasant pang of unease struck his chest. As though her words implied Auren hadn't worked of her own free will.
"Who made her?"
Mrs. Laurent froze. For a moment, hesitation flashed across her face before she quickly dropped her gaze and replied in a voice that was almost too steady:
"Auren... helped me on her own."
"On her own?" he repeated, tilting his head slightly.
She nodded, but Kael noticed how tightly her fingers clenched around the towel.
"Yes. She was always like that—independent, diligent. She wanted to help me with everything."
The words sounded convincing, but Kael knew all too well—that was exactly how people spoke when hiding the truth. The answer had come too quickly. The tone was too careful.
He slowly set the glass down on the table, his gaze never wavering.
"Really?"
Mrs. Laurent smiled, but her smile trembled, just barely.
"Of course, Master Dantes. Really."
But Kael no longer believed her.
He gave a short nod, betraying nothing of his thoughts, and headed for the staircase. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, breaking the silence of the house. With every step, he felt something unpleasant tighten inside him—as though he had brushed against the edge of a truth no one had dared to voice for years.
The stairs creaked under his weight, but Kael paid no attention. His mind was circling around Mrs. Laurent's words. "She helped of her own accord." Too convenient an explanation. Too carefully chosen. And yet... He remembered how rarely Auren appeared where he could see her. He remembered once catching his mother punishing her—but never learning why.
He reached the second floor but didn't go straight into his room. Instead, he stopped by the window at the end of the hall, glancing absently into the courtyard. It was empty, only a faint breeze stirring the leaves.
Kael rubbed the back of his neck as if to shake off the unease. He had always known life hadn't been easy for Auren in this house, but now it felt different—heavier, darker. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to dig deeper into the truth?
Yes, Auren was the type who couldn't sit still when there was something to be done. He'd seen it even now, when she returned late but still found chores instead of rest. But... there had been something in her mother's voice. A flicker of hesitation, a pause before answering.
If Auren truly had volunteered, then why did her mother waver? Why had it sounded as though something else lay beneath?
Kael exhaled and pushed himself away from the windowsill, but the unease didn't lift. He disliked the sensation—that part of Auren's past remained hidden, perhaps even from herself. Or worse, carefully hidden from him.
He replayed Mrs. Laurent's words again. They were... contradictory.
First, she had said Auren had been too busy for games, that she barely had any free time. And then—she claimed Auren wanted to help.
But children don't choose work, do they? They want to play, to run, to laugh. Even if Auren was unusual, even if she liked helping, surely there were moments when she simply wanted to be a child?
The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became. Reality wasn't what they wanted him to believe.
He remembered Auren as a child—small, fragile, almost weightless. She had always been quieter than others, never raised her voice, never complained, only did what was expected.
How could such a girl have taken on household duties?
He recalled glimpses of her at the far edges of the estate, a barely visible shadow with a broom or a basket. Her thin wrists looked as though a heavy bucket could snap them; she herself seemed so delicate that any adult should have said, "Leave it, I'll do it."
But no one ever did.
And now it struck him as deeply wrong.
Kael remembered one scene from childhood. He had been sitting in the garden, leafing through a book, when he noticed Auren. She came closer, her eyes flicking to the cover.
Something lit up inside them.
Curiosity, hunger, that spark only seen in people who discover something that truly captivates them.
Back then, Kael had deliberately left the book on the bench, pretending to forget it.
She loved to read.
And if reading gave her such joy, how could she have chosen endless chores over it? How could she have picked work instead of books—the very thing that ignited that fire in her eyes?
Kael pressed his lips together. He was certain now—Auren had not chosen work of her own free will.
Then who had made her?
The possibilities weren't many. His parents ran the household, and Auren's mother had always been by her side. If not her...
The thought flared in his mind, and Kael closed his eyes.
Could it have been his mother?
Tension tightened his body as a memory surfaced.
He had been just a boy, but the scene burned into him like a brand. Auren stood before a maid, small and frail, while the woman raised a belt high, ready to strike.
And his mother...
She had stood aside, watching with a cold, detached gaze. She didn't stop it, didn't interfere—just observed, as though it were something ordinary, unworthy of her attention.
Kael had turned away then, walking off because he couldn't bear to watch. He had known even then that if he intervened, things would only get worse—for him, for Auren, for everyone.
But now he wondered: was that the only time?
His mother had always been strict, especially with the servants. But with Auren... had she treated her even more harshly than the rest?
He couldn't just leave it at that.
Turning sharply, he headed back. His steps were steady, but in his chest a strange, heavy feeling swelled. He didn't know what he would find—but he knew he had to ask. He had to know the truth.
Descending the stairs, he stopped in front of Auren's door. For a few seconds he just stood there, staring, before raising his hand and knocking.
"Auren." His voice was even, but inside everything was boiling. "Open up. I need to talk."
The door opened after a moment, and there she was. Auren frowned, looking at him in surprise, clearly not understanding why he was at her door at such an hour.
"Did something happen?" Her voice was a little drowsy, but there was a spark of concern in her eyes.
Kael didn't answer right away. He just looked at her. He had spent the whole day with her, memorized every detail of her face—the curve of her lips, the soft line of her cheekbones, the fine, neat brows. He had kissed her today, felt the warmth of her skin, caught every flicker of emotion in her eyes. But now, in this moment, he was looking at her as though seeing her for the first time.
The dim light of the hallway framed her figure, yet even in the half-dark she looked too alive, too vivid. The light spilling from her room brushed against her hair, giving it a faint golden sheen. Her dark eyes, usually confident, were narrowed slightly in confusion, but even so, there was something captivating about them.
"Kael?" Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
He blinked, shaking off the strange feeling, and straightened slightly.
"May I come in?" he asked, surprised himself at how serious his voice sounded.
Auren quickly tugged him inside and immediately glanced back down the hallway. Her eyes swept the darkness, as if searching for something—or someone—before she carefully closed the door.
Kael frowned. He hadn't said a word yet, but already unease was curling in his chest. Why was she so cautious? Whom was she afraid of?
She stood with her hand still resting on the door handle, shoulders tense, a shadow of worry flickering in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" His voice was calm but firm.
Auren hesitated, then forced herself to straighten, hiding what he had already noticed.
"It's just..." She shrugged, trying to sound careless. "I don't want anyone to see."
"Why?" Kael's gaze didn't waver.
She looked away too quickly, as though afraid he'd read something in her eyes.
"I just don't want..." She broke off, searching for words, but he already knew.
Her reactions, her caution, that strange habit of hiding—everything made him frown harder. It unsettled him. Why did she act like she couldn't ever let her guard down? Why was she always braced, as if expecting something?
He stepped closer, softly but insistently.
"Auren, what are you afraid of?"
Auren lingered by the door for a moment before turning back to him. Her expression was calm, but her voice carried a faint note of wariness.
"I just don't want trouble... from your mother."
Kael clenched his jaw, watching her carefully. The words confirmed what he had suspected. She was afraid of his mother. But why?
"What could she do to you?" His voice was even, but tension edged it.
Auren raised a brow, as though the question was too obvious to ask.
"You know what she's like. If she finds out you're coming to me in the middle of the night... I don't think she'd take it well."
Her tone was calm, but Kael heard something else in it—something unsaid.
Auren crossed her arms, finally meeting his gaze with steadiness. If there had been hesitation in her voice before, now there was confidence.
"Kael, what are you even doing here?" There was no trace of uncertainty now.
He kept looking at her, studying every detail of her face. After everything he had realized today, he was seeing her differently. All the details he once dismissed as part of her image now formed a more complex picture.
But he remained silent.
"You know you could've just waited until morning," Auren added, narrowing her eyes. "Or is this so important you couldn't?"
She spoke firmly, but there was something in her eyes... as if she herself wasn't sure what to expect from his answer.
Auren held his gaze, waiting. When he didn't reply, her lips twitched slightly, curving into a light, almost teasing smile.
"What, did you miss me so much you couldn't last even half an hour?" she asked with feigned surprise, tilting her head.
She tried to joke, but Kael didn't respond the way she expected. He didn't smirk, didn't play along—instead, his eyes grew sharper, his brows narrowing slightly.
Auren had expected anything—banter, his usual gruff "stop it," even a crooked grin—but not this silence that suddenly settled between them.
"Kael?" Her voice carried a flicker of uncertainty. "Or am I right? Did you really miss me?"
He tilted his head, eyes locked on her. His voice was low, direct.
"Why did you go abroad to study?"
Auren blinked, her faint smile fading. The question caught her off guard.
"To... study," she said, but her voice was softer than usual.
She tried to sound steady, but Kael caught the hesitation before she spoke, the way her fingers curled slightly into a fist, the quick dart of her eyes before she forced them back to his.
He didn't like it. He didn't like the falter in her tone, the way doubt colored her answer. Something was wrong.
Kael's eyes narrowed, his gaze intent. He stepped closer, closing the distance.
"The real reason, Auren," his voice came firm, demanding.
She didn't look away, but he saw her breathing deepen. For a few seconds she was silent, weighing her response.
"I told you... to study," she repeated, but this time her voice was quieter, and tension flickered in her eyes.
Kael didn't back off. He could see she was hiding something. And the more she tried to cover it, the stronger his unease grew.
Auren barely had time to gasp when Kael suddenly closed the distance between them. His arms locked around her, and in the next moment she was pressed so close to him their breaths mingled.
Her back hit the door, her wrist caught in his strong grip, twisted gently behind her. He leaned in too fast, leaving her almost no room to pull away, his voice low and demanding:
"The real reason."
He looked at her as if he could peer straight into her soul and rip out the truth she tried to keep hidden. Auren drew in a shaky breath, her heart pounding wildly.
"Kael..." she began, but her voice faltered.
"Don't dodge me." He lowered himself even more, his lips hovering a breath away. "Say it."
Auren's gaze shifted aside, her breathing uneven. She felt his fingers tighten around her wrist, firm but not cruel. He wasn't letting go—not until she spoke.
"To survive," she whispered at last, though she wasn't sure if she was ready to say more.
Kael's brows furrowed, his eyes searching her face.
"Survive?" His voice had softened, but the sharp edge of fear cut through it.
Auren hesitated. They were close... but were they close enough for her to reveal the darkest truth she had carried all these years?
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She could lie, laugh it off, twist the moment into something lighter. But Kael wouldn't let it go. He could taste falsehood, and he wanted nothing but the truth.
His gaze never wavered, his grip unyielding.
"Survive?" he repeated, tasting the word, weighing its weight. "What do you mean, Auren?"
She swallowed, tried to look away, but he lifted her chin with his free hand, forcing her eyes back to his.
"Don't run from the answer." His voice was harsher than he meant it to be. "Who drove you away?"
Auren's lips pressed tight, her breath ragged. This was the moment: hide behind lies, or finally confess.
Kael's patience was hanging by a thread.
And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.
"I left because I was trying to survive," she whispered.
Kael didn't move. He watched her—every trembling lash, every uneven inhale, every flicker of hesitation. He didn't push, but his silence demanded more.
"I left..." her voice barely carried.
Something inside her chest tightened. The secret she had buried for so long could no longer stay in the dark.
"Because my mother was afraid for me," she went on, her eyes locked with his.
His brows twitched, his grip on her wrist tightening instinctively.
"She thought I wouldn't last if I stayed another day here..." Auren swallowed, breath catching.
"She was afraid that one day I would just—"
Her words broke, a shiver running through her.
"That your mother..."
Kael stiffened, tension flaring through him.
Auren lifted her eyes, heavy with the pain she had carried in silence for years.
"That I might die."
Her voice cracked, but the words landed sharp, merciless.
Kael didn't allow the silence to swallow them. He didn't let the horror take root. Instead, he surged forward, crashing his lips onto hers before the weight of her confession could drown them both.
The kiss was fierce, more than hunger—it was desperation. A frantic need to silence reality, to erase those words from existence. If he kissed her hard enough, maybe they would disappear, as if never spoken.
His hand cupped her cheek, strong and warm, holding her as if she might dissolve in his arms.
Auren froze at first, but then her fingers fisted in his shirt, and she yielded, letting him take the pain, the fear, the unbearable truth she had finally spoken.
Kael kissed her like he could rip the words out of the world itself. Like he could steal her sorrow, burn away the memories that haunted her, replace them with something that belonged only to the two of them.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, deeper. The kiss was hot, demanding, almost desperate. He wasn't asking—he was taking. Taking her fear, her scars, her hidden grief.
Auren's breath came ragged, but she didn't pull away. Her hands clung to his shirt like it was the only anchor keeping her steady against the storm of her past.
Kael couldn't stop. Her words echoed mercilessly in his head. "I might have died." They were unbearable, wrong, impossible. He refused to accept them.
He kissed her harder, deeper, as though he could erase the years, rewrite them, place himself beside her when she had been alone.
But now, the only thing he could do was kiss her—with fire, with urgency, with the raw desperation of a man terrified of losing her.
His hands slid to her waist. Without effort, he lifted her, urging her legs around him, and carried her toward the bed. His movements were steady, controlled, yet beneath them burned a fury. Fury at the pain she had endured. Fury at his own helplessness for not knowing, not stopping it, not protecting her.
He lowered her onto the soft sheets but didn't pull back. He remained above her, one hand planted beside her head, the other clutching the edge of the pillow as if he needed to hold on to something to keep from breaking. Auren's breaths came heavy, her lips reddened from his touch, her eyes a storm of emotions.
Kael finally tore his lips from hers, but his gaze still burned into her.
"What did she do to you?" His voice was hoarse, tight, demanding.
Auren looked up at him, her chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. He could see her wavering, fighting with herself, but hints weren't enough. He wanted to know everything. He wanted each word spoken aloud.
Her lips trembled, but she didn't look away.
"She beat me with a belt," she whispered.
Something inside Kael clenched, but he didn't avert his gaze. He refused to let rage consume him—not when she lay before him, fragile yet brave enough to bare the truth.
"Where?" His voice was firm, but not harsh.
Auren hesitated, then, almost instinctively, her arms folded across her shoulders as if shielding herself.
He didn't press with more questions. He understood. Slowly, he lowered himself, his fingers brushing her arm, gently drawing her hands away.
Then his lips touched her shoulder—first barely there, then firmer, leaving warm kisses on the very skin that had once felt the sting of lashes.
It wasn't just a kiss. It was more. It was an attempt to erase her pain, to take her memories for himself, to rewrite what her body had once endured.
"What else did she do?" His voice was low, tight, as if restraining a storm.
Auren dropped her gaze, her fingers curling into fists. She didn't want to speak, didn't want to rake through the past again—but he watched her as if he would never let her go until she told him.
"She made me do heavy labor," Auren breathed out, then continued. "Like carrying sacks of flour. Fifty kilos each..." A bitter smile ghosted her lips, stripped of all humor. "And I was only nine."
Kael inhaled sharply, a shadow of pain and fury flashing across his face.
Without a word, he covered her fists with his palms, lifting one slowly to his lips. He kissed her fingers, then moved higher, to her wrist. His mouth left burning traces on skin that had once strained under unbearable weight.
Her breath caught, but he didn't stop—he rained kisses over her hands, as if trying to wash away the memories embedded there.
His lips lingered at her wrist, slower now. He felt the faint warmth beneath her skin, though the tension never left her. His eyes rose to meet hers.
Auren was silent, her gaze lowered. Her lips trembled before she spoke again.
"She starved me," she whispered. "On purpose. Sometimes... until I collapsed. Until I fainted. Only then, maybe, she'd let me eat."
Kael broke. His lips found hers again—this time the kiss was soft, desperate, as if he could patch the fractures in her soul. He kissed her with reverence, with trembling devotion, with an unbearable need to comfort.
When he pulled away, it was only to breathe. Then he trailed down, his mouth brushing her stomach—gentle, tender, as though apologizing for every pang of hunger, every moment of weakness, every fear she had endured.
"No one had the right to do that to you," he murmured against her skin.
He lingered there before raising his eyes again, his voice taut with fury barely restrained.
"Auren... what did my mother do to you?"
Auren's breath hitched, words caught in her throat. She had already crossed the line, had already revealed the secrets she swore to bury... but his question cut deeper than all the others.
Her eyes locked with his, pained, unflinching. Finally, she spoke:
"If I did something wrong... she forced me outside. Made me stand..." her voice wavered, "...on an iron plate. In the sun. Until the heat burned my feet."
Kael's eyes darkened—pain, rage, helplessness swirling within. Slowly, he bent down to her feet, as if he needed to feel her scars himself.
His hands cradled them with reverence, his fingers gliding over her skin like she was fragile, priceless. He lowered his head and kissed her feet—first softly, barely brushing, then deeper, each kiss an oath. An oath that from now on she would never be alone. Never punished. Never made to feel worthless again.
"Auren..." His voice shook. "What made you believe you couldn't endure?"
She fell silent. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, her eyes unfocused as old memories clawed back.
"When belts stopped 'working'..." she whispered. "She started using chains. Iron ones. They left..." She swallowed. "...bloody marks."
Kael couldn't contain himself. He clasped her hands, then rose back over her, kissing her shoulders, her arms, her chest—everything he could reach. He didn't ask, didn't demand. He only kissed—tender, insistent, almost prayerful.
He kissed as though his lips could erase the scars of chains. As though he could rewrite her childhood, leaving behind only his touch.
"What else?" His voice was rough but unyielding. He demanded the truth, no matter how monstrous.
Auren shivered, her eyes darting away. Her fingers gripped his shirt as if she needed it to hold her together.
"Auren," he said, soft but firm.
She nervously bit her lip, then drew in a deep breath before speaking.
"She... she used to lock me up," her voice was barely a whisper.
Kael's brows furrowed.
"Where?"
Auren shrank even further into herself.
"In the basement," she breathed.
Kael froze.
"What basement?" His voice was icy.
"The farthest one..." Auren swallowed hard before finally lifting her eyes to his, shadows of the past haunting them. "It was dark. And cold. I always lost track of time... Sometimes I stayed there for days."
Something inside Kael snapped. His whole body tensed, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. He could see the trembling of her shoulders, and that tremor echoed through him like a blade.
"Days," he repeated, as if he couldn't believe his own ears.
Auren didn't reply. She didn't look away either. She only watched him, waiting—for his reaction, his words, his decision.
But Kael said nothing. A storm raged in his eyes as he stared at her.
"Since when?" His voice was steady, but rage boiled beneath the surface.
Auren dropped her gaze, her fists tightening into fragile knots.
"Since I was six," she whispered. Each word cut into him like steel.
Kael felt his breath stutter. His chest constricted as if the air itself had turned against him. Six. She had been only six—a small, fragile child. In this house. In the cold. In the dark. Alone.
His fingers clawed into the sheets on either side of her. His head bowed low, his dark eyes burning in the half-light.
"Auren..." he breathed, as though tasting her name, but it carried so much pain it felt like a knife in his own heart.
He didn't try to speak further. He simply lowered himself and found her lips again. But this kiss was different. Gone was the urgency with which he had tried to erase her pain before. Gone was the fury that had burned in his veins as he heard her truth.
This kiss was comfort.
Warm. Gentle. Absolute.
His fingers skimmed along her cheek, his lips moving slowly, tenderly, as though to prove that everything had changed—that she was no longer alone.
At last Kael drew back, granting her breath, and only then did he truly look around her room. His gaze drifted over the shelves, the walls, the corners. Something struck him as strange.
Lamps. Several of them. Arranged to chase away every shadow. Soft string lights twined around her shelves and headboard, spilling golden warmth across the space. Fixtures that looked as though they burned almost all night.
He had expected something else. Something bolder, defiant—like her. But the room wasn't defiant. It was safe.
And in that instant, he understood.
Auren was afraid of the dark.
The memory hit him hard—like a curtain ripped back to reveal a hidden truth. That day at the office, when the power had cut out. At first, she had acted confident, even mocking. But when the lights came back on...
He'd noticed. Her hands had trembled. A small, almost imperceptible shake. And her eyes—for a heartbeat—had looked terrified, as if she had been dragged back into a nightmare.
Now, everything made sense.
Her room drenched in soft light. The lamps. The strings of warm bulbs. All of it. She was afraid of the dark—so deeply that even now, grown and fierce, she could not bear to be without light.
"That day in the office, when the power went out—" he began.
"Yes," Auren cut him off quickly, as though she already knew what he was about to ask. "I'm afraid of the dark." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "But that day you were there, so I only remembered after the lights came back on."
Kael clenched his jaw. So he had distracted her from her fear, but it hadn't vanished. It was still inside her. Buried, hidden, but alive.
Slowly, he turned onto his side, drawing her with him. Now there was no space between them. He held her as if he feared losing her again, one arm curved around her waist, the other smoothing along her back, warming her chilled skin.
Auren stilled for a moment, then relaxed in his embrace.
"You're warm," she murmured suddenly, pressing her face against his chest. "That's... what I like about you."
Kael tightened his hold, letting her sink deeper into his heat.
"The darkness..." Auren's voice was steady, but he felt the tension in her shoulders. "But more than that... the cold."
She flinched, as though the memory dragged her back.
"It was damp. Bitter. Sometimes it felt like the air itself was freezing inside me. I'd wrap my arms around myself, trying to stay warm, but the cold sank deeper—under my skin, into my bones." Her fingers curled into his shirt. "I never knew how long I'd been there. A day, two? Sometimes it felt like forever..."
Kael's hand swept gently across her back, soothing, anchoring.
"I hated the dark. But, you know... the cold scared me more. It drained me, pulled out my last strength, leaving only fear. And emptiness."
She took a long breath, as if afraid the memories would drown her.
"That's why I'm drawn to you." Auren tried to smile, though her eyes still carried shadows. "Fire is warm, bright, alive... playful. It doesn't let you feel alone. Not like that basement."
She wanted it to sound light, but Kael didn't take it as a joke. He exhaled sharply, then lowered his lips to her forehead.
A kiss. Warm. Almost searing.
"Don't joke like that," he murmured, his voice muffled. "It isn't funny to me."
Auren sighed softly, looking up at him.
"It's not a joke, Kael. It's the truth."
He drew back just enough to see her face, though not enough to let her go.
"I like who you are. Because you're like fire," she said, her voice soft but certain. "You're warm. Bright. Alive. Sometimes playful, sometimes unpredictable... but you burn."
Kael stared at her, unblinking, something heavy and deep flickering in his gaze. Her words struck him harder than he expected.
He drew in a breath, his eyes sweeping over her face. His fingers brushed across her cheek, lingering at her jaw.
"No wonder you don't pull away," he said quietly, his voice low and thoughtful. "You're not afraid of being burned... because your skin and soul crave the fire."
His thumb traced her lips, as if to test her truth. Auren didn't look away. She didn't push his hand aside. She simply held his gaze, her reflection burning in the dark depths of his eyes.
Kael sighed, his palm slipping into her hair. He knew she needed rest, and he intended to give her that—even if it meant leaving.
"You need sleep," his voice was soft, but firm.
But the moment he shifted, Auren's hand shot out, clutching his shirt, dragging him back against her. Her fingers fisted the fabric tightly, as if afraid he would vanish.
"I don't want to," she whispered, burying herself against him. Her voice was small, almost pleading. "I don't want to let go of this warmth."
Her lashes lowered, her breathing steadying, but her grip never loosened.
Kael stilled, looking down at her. He could feel her fragility, her desperate need for safety, her fear of the cold that had haunted her for so long.
With a heavy breath, he wrapped his arm around her tighter.
"Sleep," he murmured, holding her close, as if to promise he would not let go.
"Don't leave when I fall asleep," her voice rose again, quiet but firm. "You have to stay until morning."
Kael's brows arched in surprise before he let out a faint laugh.
"Bossy," he muttered, watching as she clung to him with her eyes closed, stubbornly refusing to let go.
He shook his head but didn't argue. Instead, he only drew her closer, letting her warmth merge with his own.