Eyan had never thought of himself as a coward. He had faced battlefields drenched in blood, stood against beasts that made lesser men tremble—yet tonight, he fled.
Fled from the woman he loved.
He had wrapped her in a sheet, binding her like a fragile cocoon, and sealed the door behind him as though he were holding back a monster. Perhaps he was.
The clash had ended, yet he could not tell if he had emerged the victor… or the one most utterly defeated.
---
Kyel dragged himself into the kitchen, his throat raw and burning. He snatched a glass, filled it to the brim, and drank as though he had been parched for an eternity. Water spilled down his jaw, yet it did nothing to cool the fire raging beneath his skin.
"Haa… haa…" his breath came rough, uneven.
He stumbled back into the sitting room, collapsing onto the couch, chest heaving as though he had just returned from battle. But this was no battlefield—this storm was inside him.
From upstairs, her voice reached him again.
"Kyel… Kyel…"
His body went rigid.
He pressed a pillow hard against his ears, eyes squeezed shut. "Shut up… shut up… stop calling my name…" he growled, though the sound of her lingered in his skull like a curse.
I need to sleep, he told himself. Yes… just sleep, and it will pass.
He forced a slow breath, whispering under his breath like a man clinging to sanity.
"Eyan, you've fought worse. Breathe in… breathe out. Good thoughts. Think of good things. A tree… the sound of rain… the mountains at dawn… the river running cold…"
For a moment, he managed. The storm inside seemed to steady—until her face slipped in again Her lips trembling beneath his. The taste of her kiss,The softness of her breast pressed against his palm. The desperate arch of her body when she moaned his name—Kyel… Kyel…
A growl ripped from his throat. His body hardened painfully, straining against the fabric of his pants until it throbbed with need.
He opened his eyes and glanced down. "Ah… damn it." His hand clenched into the cushion. "I can't… I can't do this."
His breath quickened, ragged, his body demanding what his mind forbade. "
"Eyan… you need to calm down. Hold yourself together," he muttered under his breath, as though saying it aloud would anchor him.
But his body didn't listen. Every breath burned, every nerve screamed for release.
He pushed himself off the couch, legs unsteady, and dragged his heated body toward the bathroom. His throat was dry, his palms damp with sweat.
"I need water. Cold water," he rasped. "Ice… yes, ice to freeze this fire. Chains—to bind these hands before they betray me. A wall to slam myself against, a blade at my throat if that's what it takes—anything to keep myself together."
---
Kyel remained in the bath for hours, letting the icy water numb the fire raging in his veins. Only when his body finally cooled did he lift a trembling hand to his cheek—still red and swollen from her slap.
It wasn't just passion last night. It was violence. Beautiful, maddening violence.
His fingers then brushed the mark on his neck, the faint ridges of her teeth still visible. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.
"I didn't know she can bite that hard."
Leaning back against the porcelain, he exhaled.
"She drives me crazy."
By the time he dragged himself out, the night had thinned into pale morning. The house was still, silent—Eva had finally fallen asleep.
Quietly, he made his way upstairs, pushing open the bedroom door he had locked earlier.
Eva lay curled on the bed, her chest rising and falling with even breaths, her face softened in slumber. Peaceful, innocent… as if she hadn't nearly driven him insane a few hours ago.
Kyel stepped lightly across the room and knelt beside her. Then, with a careful hand, he loosened the cocoon of blankets around her and eased her head gently onto the pillow.
Her hair had fallen across her face; he brushed it back with a touch almost reverent. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Sleep tight, princess... I guess I won't be able to."
He lingered a moment longer, then rose and slipped out of the room, closing the door
Kyel left the room quietly and returned to the couch for what little remained of the night.
(Morning)
Kyel stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair damp, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He moved carefully, silently, preparing a soup that was supposed to cure hangovers—or in this case, post-aphrodisiac chaos.
Upstairs, Eva stirred awake, wincing as she pressed a hand to her temple.
"My head hurts..." she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed.
He heard movement upstairs, soft footsteps, a faint groan.
She was awake.
Her voice called out uncertainly, "Kyel?"
"In the kitchen, princess," he answered.
She descended the stairs, each step slower than usual.
"Kyel, my head is hurting."
He turned slightly, giving her a faint smile. "I made a soup for you."
Her brows furrowed. "Hangover soup? But I didn't drink last night."
"You did..." he said evenly, not looking at her. "Got drunk and passed out on the table."
Eva blinked in confusion. "I don't remember."
Kyel muttered under his breath, "Probably for the best"
"What?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Nothing."
She stepped closer, then gasped. "Wait—your cheek. Did I hit you again in my sleep?"
"I'm so sorry, honey!" she cried, reaching for his face.
On instinct, Kyel pulled back—just slightly—but it was enough.
Her eyes widened. "Did you just avoid my hand?"
"No... I mean, yes... I mean—no," he stammered.
"I'm not going to bite you," she said, offended.
He muttered lowly, "I'm not sure about that."
"What?" she asked again.
"Nothing," he deflected quickly.
Finally, he leaned down, allowing her hands to brush against his face. She studied him, guilt pooling in her expression.
"Your cheek is swollen... my slaps are getting strong."
"You need to watch your strength," he said with a faint chuckle.
Her gaze fell to the scarf around his neck. "Why are you wearing a scarf? It's not cold."
Kyel looked away. "I felt sudden chillies, that's why."
"Oh..." she said softly, though doubt lingered in her tone.
He gestured to the table. "Eva, I made the breakfast and soup.... I have some important work to do. I should go."
Her brows drew together. "At least eat breakfast."
"No... I'll have something later."
"Okay..." she whispered.
He gave a short nod. "Bye."
"Bye."
With that, Kyel left the house, his steps brisk and heavy.
Eva stared at the empty doorway, rubbing her eyes.
She still didn't remember what happened the night before.
But for some reason, her lips tingled…
Her body ached in odd places.