When she saw Kael enter the room, Liyana felt something inside her tighten.
He was wearing a white suit with black accents. The tight-fitting fabric accentuated the line of his shoulders and the length of his black hair, which fell like a dark waterfall to his waist.
He wasn't handsome.
He didn't have fine features or striking features.
But that made it even worse.
His ordinary, expressionless face was like a mask without cracks. There was no beauty in it. Only absolute neutrality... impossible to read. Like an abyss.
Liyana, sitting cross-legged, kept a serene expression. But inside, her heart was pounding in her chest like a war drum.
She had imagined it many times.
That moment.
That distance.
Him. So close. So tangible.
She held back the urge to stand up, to throw herself against his chest, hardened by training. To cling to him like a desperate lover and beg him to make her his. Not for love. Not for desire.
Out of obsession.
Out of control.
