I sat perched on a wooden stool, the rough surface digging into the back of my legs. My hands trembled, resting limply in my lap, while Kiaran meticulously poured a generous gulp of honey into his palms.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9xNFuDBzQx
The thick, sticky syrup clung to his fingers before he rubbed it gently along the grooves of my own. The sweet aroma mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood.
Kiaran used to do this for me when I was younger—whenever a wild animal scratched me or a rose bush bit too deep.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3q2o6ZeWq8
But this time wasn't like those small accidents. There was no innocence here, no childhood naivety to soften the edges. This time, the wounds ran deeper.
"Why would you do something so foolish?" he muttered under his breath, his tone heavy with frustration as he turned my hands over, inspecting the damage. His fingertips were gentle but purposeful as he worked, trying to figure out how to ease the shards of glass from my fingers without causing more pain.
"You never listen," he said, mostly to himself now. "When I tell you to go right, you go left. When I tell you to go left, you go right." He sighed deeply, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his exasperation.
I couldn't respond. My throat burned with unshed tears, and my mind felt hazy, like I was floating somewhere outside my body. It wasn't until I noticed the droplets of water trickling down his chest that I realized the lengths he'd gone for me. 15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkK4U0O7OLR
His black hair was still damp, clinging to his forehead, and his skin was glistening from the shower he had clearly abandoned in a rush. He must have heard my cries through the walls and bolted out of the bathroom without hesitation.
His eyes captivated me. They always did. Heterochromatic and haunting, one was a pale, sunny yellow while the other, damaged from an old fight, was a duller shade, as if it had absorbed the shadows of his past. But the contrast only made them more mesmerizing, framed by lashes so dark and long they almost seemed otherworldly.
Without thinking, I reached out. My honey-slicked fingers brushed against his face, trailing sticky warmth along his sharp cheekbone. I wanted to memorize him—to ground myself in the solidity of his presence, as if his beauty could tether me to something real.
Kiaran froze, his brows furrowing in confusion before he grabbed my wrist firmly, his grip steady but not harsh.
"Cuir sís!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. His eyes locked onto mine, filled with a mixture of anger, worry, and something deeper I couldn't quite place. The words hit me like a slap, not because they hurt, but because they startled me, cutting through the fog in my mind. His tone wasn't cruel—it was the tone of someone scolding a wayward child.
I flinched slightly, my hand falling limp in his grasp. The words reverberated in my chest, foreign but familiar. Memories stirred—Kiaran shouting in Gaelic when I was younger, his voice rising in pitch whenever I disobeyed him. Those moments had been rare, but they always marked the times I'd pushed him too far.
His expression softened almost immediately. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He released my wrist and looked away, shame flickering across his face. "I shouldn't have said that."
I managed a faint smile, though my lips trembled. "I guess I'm pretty good at making you lose your cool."
Kiaran glanced up at me, his lips curving into a small, reluctant smile. "You have no idea."
I tried to return the smile, but my lips faltered. The unsavory taste of the demi-god patron still lingered, bitter and acrid, like bile at the back of my throat. My hands tightened around my knees as I sat curled up on the bed, willing myself to stop shaking. The memory of his cruel eyes, the way he moved, was a shadow I couldn't chase away.
Kiaran didn't say anything at first. He just draped a warm, green blanket over my trembling shoulders and handed me a steaming cup of ginger tea. The scent hit me immediately—sharp and earthy, like pine needles stabbing the inside of my nose. I wrinkled my nose but drank it anyway. I always drank when Kiaran offered.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, staring into the tea's swirling surface. "I wasn't careful enough..." The words came out choked, heavy with shame. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
"It's okay." His voice was calm, steady, as if he were trying to will the same steadiness into me. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his strong frame silhouetted in the flickering candlelight. Shadows danced along his sharp features, making him look impossibly distant, yet somehow still within reach. I hated how much I needed him in that moment.
"Tonight is one of those nights... huh?" he said softly, his voice trailing off like a thread unraveling.
I froze, the tea trembling in my hands. I knew exactly what he meant. He wasn't just talking about tonight's events. He was talking about that night. The one I tried so hard to forget.
The scent of flowers drifted faintly in my mind, soft and sweet. It mixed with the harsher memory of desert winds howling through the dunes, carrying grit that bit into my skin. My breath caught as the past began to creep in, unrelenting.
At first, it was just fragments—a flickering image of white spires shimmering against an endless expanse of golden sand. The feel of cold metal against my cheek as I clung to Kiaran's armor, my small hands gripping it tightly as if it were the only constant in a world that threatened to swallow us whole.
The whispers came next, low murmurs that grew louder with every passing step.
"That beast shouldn't be here," someone muttered.
"Gods don't belong among humans," another voice hissed.
I pressed my face against Kiaran's chest, trying to block out their words. But the way they looked at him—with fear, with hatred—made my chest ache.
Kiaran didn't flinch. His steps never faltered. But I could feel the tension in him, the way his arms tightened around me, the way his jaw set like stone.
"Do you trust me?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos around us.
I tilted my head up, meeting his ruby-red gaze. "Always," I whispered.
He nodded, his expression softening for just a moment. "Then don't let go."
The palace was closer now, its glowing spires cutting through the haze of sand. Kiaran's stance shifted, his muscles coiling in preparation.
And then, he leaped.
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