When the core burns |18+

Sharp and unsteady

Chapter 21

I barely slept.

Every time I shut my eyes, the glass was there again. My reflection caught in it, Kael pressed against my back, his hand fisted in my hair. Gold had burned through his eyes, merciless, dragging words out of me I never thought I'd say. Beautiful. Perfect. His breath at my ear. The hard line of him like he couldn't stop himself.

And then it vanished.

By the time a thin, pale light crept through the blinds, the sting hadn't faded. It had sunk deeper, settling heavy behind my ribs. I couldn't tell if I hated him for it, wanted him, or both. My body remembered too much but the silence he'd left me with was louder than any of it.

I pulled on a soft shirt and stepped into the living room.

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the climate control. The shopping bag from last night sat where he'd left it, edges crisp against the spotless counter. I set my hand on the handle and just... held it, like it might tell me what to do. My own breath sounded too loud. My presence felt too loud.

Kael moved past the hall entrance without a word. Boots against polished floor. Deliberate, measured. He didn't look at me. Didn't slow. He crossed to the far counter like the room belonged to him in ways it would never belong to me. For a heartbeat I thought that was it. That he'd put the mask back on and leave me to carry the embarrassment for both of us. Then his voice cut through, low and abrupt. "Why do you hide?"

It was so sudden I almost missed that he was talking to me. My head snapped up. I only caught the line of his profile. Jaw set, gaze fixed elsewhere. "...What?"

"Your hair. Your face. The way you choose clothes that make you disappear." Not sharp. Just too precise to be casual. "Why?"

The answer rose—I don't—but stuck fast in my throat. My fingers tightened around the bag handle until the edge bit into my palm. I glanced at the window. The door. Like either was a way out. He watched without turning his head. It felt like standing under a scanner that read the parts of you you'd rather keep unmarked.

"It's just... easier that way." I said at last.

His head tipped the smallest amount, but he didn't speak. The silence thickened until I could hear my pulse. I fussed with the dangling paper tag, wishing I could sink into the floor. "Don't avoid the question next time." His voice clung to my skin as he stepped closer. My breath snagged when he set something beside the bag. A folded slip of dark fabric. I barely registered what it was because his arm brushed mine in the movement.

Not a full touch. Just the lightest sweep through cloth. It still stole the air from my lungs.

I told myself to step back. I didn't.

He lingered for one long second more than necessary. That faint clean scent with spice threaded through it wrapped around me until my chest felt tight. I looked up, and immediately regretted it.

He caught my eyes mid-breath like he was reading things I didn't mean to show. His fingers twitched once, a stalled impulse that wanted to close the distance. Not a flinch. Intent, arrested halfway. His hand curled into itself instead, knuckles whitening before he lowered it. "You're wearing them today." he said, chin angling toward the bag.

My voice startled me. "What if I—"

"Today." Quieter, but it carried. There wasn't room for argument.

Heat slid up my throat. "Fine." I murmured, eyes on the counter.

He turned toward the hall. "And leave your hair how it is."