After they headed back to the main room in Zyren's wing, the tension between them refused to lift. Aira was expecting Zyren to leave, as he usually did. His pattern was predictable—command, provoke, control, and then vanish into whatever dark corners he liked to roam. But tonight, something was different. He didn't leave. Instead, his steps moved farther into the room, slow and unhurried, before shifting toward the bed like it was the most natural place in the world to be.
Aira felt her body tense immediately. Her breath hitched in her throat as she turned slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye. The massive bed loomed in the center of the chamber like a trap. Even though she was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically—she still hesitated. Her limbs didn't want to obey. Every fiber of her being screamed not to lie in that bed, not again.
