The guest room was carved from pale stone and framed in ivy, its windows wide and open to the night. Beyond the balcony, the elven village shimmered under moonlight — lanterns glowing like stars, rooftops dusted in silver dew. The kingdom pulsed with quiet magic, and the air smelled of lavender and rain.
Hazel lay beneath the covers of the bed, her body wrapped in warmth and silence. The healing had left her tired, but whole. Her skin glowed faintly, her breath steady. The white leaves that had been removed was folded neatly on the table beside her gown. She had chosen not to dress again — the sheets were soft, the room safe, and the night gentle.
In the adjoining chamber, Balthazar bathed.
The water was warm, scented with crushed herbs and moonflower oil. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed, his thoughts drifting.
Hazel.
Her skin — warm vanilla, smooth, glowing in firelight.
Her lips — soft, parted when she laughed.
Her eyes — deep, unreadable, always watching.
He wondered what her lips tasted like.
What her skin felt like beneath his hands.
He exhaled sharply, sinking deeper into the water.
She was more than beautiful. She was brave. Fierce. Kind. She had seen his darkness and stayed. She had touched his chest and brought him back. She had bled for him.
And now she lay in his bed.
He stepped out of the bath, drying himself with a soft cloth. The elves had left a pair of silky white pajama pants for him — loose, comfortable, threaded with silver. He slipped them on, ran a hand through his damp hair, and walked into the bedroom.
Hazel didn't move.
Her gown lay folded on the table.
Balthazar raised a brow.
"Are you seriously naked under there?" he asked.
Hazel's voice was soft, amused. "Yes. Sleeping without clothing is a huge benefit for your body."
Balthazar blinked.
Then blushed.
Hazel turned her head slightly, catching his expression — and blushed too.
He walked to the other side of the bed, careful not to look directly at her, and slipped beneath the covers. The warmth wrapped around him instantly, and he lay still, staring at the ceiling.
Neither of them spoke.
But the silence was not empty.
It was full.
Balthazar slept beneath the covers, his breath steady, his body finally at rest. Hazel lay beside him, curled into the sheets, her skin glowing faintly from the healing magic still lingering in her veins.
Then something shifted.
A weight pressed against Balthazar's chest.
Soft lips brushed his neck.
He stirred, eyes fluttering open.
Hazel was above him, her hair falling around her face, her eyes glowing with excitement.
She kissed his collarbone, then his chest.
Balthazar darted upright, startled. "Hazel—what are you doing?"
She tilted her head. "Nothing."
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
She leaned down again, her lips trailing lower, her gaze locked onto his.
Her fingers reached for the waistband of his pants.
"Stop it," he said sharply. "Now. I don't want this right now."
His voice came out like a hiss.
Hazel paused. Then smiled.
"There you go," she whispered. "There's that demon-like hiss."
Her eyes turned solid black.
Before he could move, she pinned him down, her strength unnatural. A long, black tongue — slick and snake-like — slithered from her mouth and wrapped around his neck, tightening.
Balthazar gasped, struggling to break free.
The shadows in the room thickened.
And then, beside the bed, it appeared.
The demon.
The same one from Hazel's bathroom.
Its grin was wide, its eyes burning violet.
"I finally got you," it whispered, leaning close.
Balthazar screamed.
"NO!"
He bolted upright.
The room was still.
Hazel sat up beside him, startled. "Balthazar?"
He was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, his eyes wild.
Hazel rushed to the table, poured a glass of water, and returned to his side. She held it to his lips, helping him drink.
He gasped, then collapsed back against the pillows, his heart pounding.
Hazel sat beside him, her arm wrapped around her chest, shielding herself gently.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
Balthazar stared at the ceiling, the memory of the nightmare still clinging to him like smoke.
"I saw it again," he whispered. "The demon. In your form."
Hazel's eyes widened.
"I thought it had me," he said. "I thought I lost control."
She reached for his hand.
"You didn't," she said. "You're here. You're safe."
He nodded slowly.
But the fear didn't fade.
It settled deeper.