The dining hall was quiet, only the faint clinking of cutlery breaking the silence. Aaron sat beside her, eating with an ease that made Henzal strangely conscious of every move she made.
Her gaze wandered to the ink etched on his neck, the fierce outline of an eagle spreading its wings.
"Nice tattoo," she said softly, tilting her head. "That's an eagle, right?"
Aaron looked at her, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Yeah. I like eagles." His voice was low, casual, before he returned to his plate.
Henzal chuckled, the sound light but teasing. He glanced up again, curiosity sparking.
"You really like tattoos, don't you?"
She shook her head quickly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Not really."
His brows furrowed. "Then why—"
"I mean… they mess up the skin. It loses its purity." Her eyes lingered on him, and a tiny smile curved her mouth as she spoke.
Aaron's attention drifted—not to her words this time, but to her lips shaping them. The way they moved was far more distracting than her opinion. His thoughts darkened, unbidden, and a smirk ghosted his face.
But I'd love to make you a mess on the bed, he thought silently, keeping his gaze fixed on her mouth before hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass.
----
Henzal's footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor as she wandered deeper into the villa. The corridors stretched endlessly, the golden lamps casting long shadows along the walls.
She paused in front of a heavy wooden door. A strange, foul stench crept through the cracks—sharp, rotten, unlike anything else in the house. Her brows knitted as curiosity pulled her closer.
Her hand reached for the doorknob. Just as her fingers brushed the cold brass, a sudden grip closed tightly around her arm.
Before she could react, she was yanked backward, stumbling into a firm chest. The air rushed from her lungs as she collided against the solid frame of a man.
Her heart raced—half in fear, half in shock—her eyes darting upward.
It was Aaron. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something dangerous, sharp, almost warning.
"What do you think you're doing?" his voice was low, nearly a growl, his hand still gripping her arm as if she had just crossed a forbidden line.
Her breath hitched as Aaron's grip held her in place. His chest rose steadily against her, calm, while her own heartbeat raced in wild panic.
"You shouldn't open that door," he said, his voice deep, low, final.
Henzal frowned, trying to shake off his hold. "Why? What's in there?"
He leaned down, his lips dangerously close to her ear, his tone almost a whisper.
"Some things… aren't meant for you."
His hand loosened, but not without dragging his fingers slowly down her arm, his touch lingering long after he let go.
Henzal stepped back, her breath uneven. "You're acting strange," she muttered, trying to mask her unease with irritation.
Aaron's gaze didn't waver. He smirked faintly, his eyes dipping once more to her lips before rising back to her eyes.
"Strange?" he murmured. "Or just… hard to resist?"
Her cheeks burned, and she quickly turned away, pretending to examine the corridor. But behind her, Aaron's eyes followed, sharp and possessive.
You don't even know it yet, he thought, the corner of his mouth lifting in a dark smirk, but you're already mine.
Henzal wrinkled her nose, glancing back at the heavy door.
"There's something wrong… it smells bad, like something rotten. I thought I should check—"
Before she could finish, Aaron stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between them. His eyes locked onto hers with sharp intensity.
"You don't need to check." His voice was deep, commanding, leaving no room for argument. "That's not your thing to do."
She hesitated, her lips parting, but his hand moved suddenly—fingers brushing against her cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was gentle, yet possessive, his thumb lingering a second too long near her jawline.
Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she forgot about the door, the smell, everything except the weight of his gaze.
"Fine…" she whispered, forcing a shaky smile. "Okay. I'm going to my room then."
She turned away quickly, her steps uneven as she walked down the hall. But Aaron's eyes followed her retreating figure, dark and unblinking, his smirk faint.
Run to your room, little dove, he thought, leaning back against the wall. Soon, you won't ... able to run anywhere.
The villa grew quieter as evening settled in, the corridors sinking into shadow. Inside her room, Henzal shut the door firmly and let out a long sigh.
"What kind of person is he…" she muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead. "So strange. Talks strangely, looks at me strangely… ugh!"
She shook her head and turned toward the bed. Instinctively, her hand reached for her phone, but the nightstand was empty. She pulled the blanket aside, checked beneath the pillow, even bent to peer under the bedframe. Nothing.
Her frown deepened. "Where did I even put it…? I haven't seen it since I came here."
She got down on her knees, checking the corners of the room, then stood again, scanning the desk, the shelves, every possible place it could've slipped. The emptiness only made her more frustrated.
"Great," she muttered, throwing her hands up. "No signal outside, and now no phone either."
She sank back onto the bed, her thoughts swirling—about her missing phone, about this strange house, and most of all,
about Aaron.
Unaware that in the hallway, someone's shadow lingered just beyond her door.