Elena woke determined.
Today would be normal.
No kissing.No touching.No scandal.No being caught naked by Kael like she was auditioning for the world's worst romance novel.
Just a normal day.
A calm day.
A—
She opened her door.
Soren stood in the hallway.
She nearly died.
He wasn't waiting for her. Not technically.
He was speaking quietly to Eris — hair tied back, cloak half-fastened, gloves in hand. Commander mode. Controlled. Regal. Infuriatingly composed.
Then his eyes slid to her.
Slowly. Deliberately. Like he was touching her with a gaze alone.
Her knees actually weakened. She hated herself.
"Good morning," she managed.
Soren's jaw twitched — the closest he would ever get to flinching.
"Elena."
One word. Low. Warm. Too warm.
She nodded awkwardly and stepped past him, practically sprinting toward the corridor—
A hand brushed her waist.
Just a whisper of contact. Barely there. But enough.
Enough to ignite every nerve she'd spent the morning begging to behave.
She inhaled sharply.
Soren's voice was barely audible:
"Careful."
Careful of what, sir? Gravity? Your hand? My ability to stay upright?
She walked faster.
She made it six steps before he appeared beside her — silently, like a dark, devastating ghost.
He didn't say anything. He simply guided her around a passing servant with a casual palm at the small of her back.
Her lungs forgot how breathing worked.
"That was unnecessary," she snapped, cheeks burning.
"That corridor narrows," he replied mildly.
"It narrows by two inches!"
"Two inches can be significant."
She tripped over air. Soren caught her elbow to steady her.
"Elena," he murmured behind her ear, "you're distracted."
She made a strangled noise. "I WONDER WHY."
His lips curved — just slightly. "Mm."
...
The library, 20 minutes later
She fled to the library because it was the only place that had ever soothed her.
Books. Silence. Knowledge.
Safety.
She took a deep breath—
A shadow fell over the page. Soren set something beside her elbow.
Tea.
Her favorite blend. The one she drank every morning in her old life. The one he had memorized without asking.
She stared at it. Then at him.
"Why are you here?" she whispered.
He looked down at her with that maddening, unreadable stillness.
"I am always here."
"No," she hissed. "You are hovering."
"Protecting."
"Hovering."
"Elena."
He said her name like he was tasting it. She gave up on oxygen forever.
He didn't leave. Of course not. He stood behind her chair, close enough that the air warmed, close enough that she could feel the weight of his gaze on her neck.
She tried to read. She made it through half a sentence.
Then—
Two fingers brushed the back of her neck.
Light. Soft. Electric.
She jerked upright.
"Soren!"
He withdrew his hand with immaculate calm.
"There was a thread," he said tonelessly.
"There was NOT a thread!"
"It's gone now."
She covered her burning face with both hands. "This is not normal behavior."
"It is standard vigilance."
"You are TOUCHING me."
"Lightly."
"That's not the point!"
A long pause.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
Her heart plummeted. Silence stretched.
"No," she said finally, barely audible.
Soren's breath changed — one subtle shift, like a man reining in a storm.
"Then I won't," he said simply.
...
She was walking toward the solar when someone called her name.
"Elena!"
Claire emerged from a corridor, waving.
Elena brightened—finally, someone sane.
Then Soren passed behind her.
His hand dragged, low and slow, across the back of her waist as he walked by.
Not enough to be scandalous. Just enough to set her soul on fire.
She froze.
Claire's eyes widened in silent, delighted horror.
"Oh," Claire whispered. "Oh, you two are—"
"We're NOT anything," Elena squeaked.
Behind her, Soren kept walking as though he hadn't just rewritten her DNA with two fingers.