Her fingers were still resting on the quiver.
She should have drawn the arrow.She should have stepped away.She should have demanded answers.
But she didn't move.
Instead, it was he who leaned in—slowly, deliberately.
The scent of blood clung to his wounds, but beneath it, he carried something stronger.Something wild.Like wind brushing the tip of a wing.Like heat cascading down from the clouds.
Something that pulled her pulse off-rhythm.
"You lied to me," she whispered, her throat tightening.
"I did," he said, without a flicker of shame. "I'm no ordinary man."
"You lied about the injury. About being a herbalist. You lied about—"
"Wanting to get close to you," he interrupted, voice low, eyes dark and endless."That part was true."
She faltered.
Behind him, golden feathers shimmered in the firelight. Slowly, they unfolded—casting long shadows along the walls. One brushed her shoulder. Another, her hair.
They didn't feel like wings.They felt like a cage made of light.Gentle. Impossibly intimate.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"You say I lied…" he murmured, voice husky, words curling like smoke."But didn't you say—you'd take responsibility?"
Her lashes trembled.
He paused, then, as if he feared he'd frightened her. His voice softened, nearly a plea.
"I'm still wounded. Fevered. Burning all over… Su Sheng, do you really feel no pity for me?"
She tried to look away.
But he caught her chin—gently, firmly.
"Look at me," he said.
She did.
Too close.Far too close.In the wavering firelight, his eyes held something feral—restrained, tortured, longing.Like a raptor with wings half-spread, afraid of scaring its prey.
He pressed his forehead to hers, noses brushing, breath mingling.
"I dreamed of you," he whispered. "In my dream… you kissed me."
Her eyes widened—but before she could speak—
He kissed her.
It wasn't hungry.Wasn't wild.It was patient, aching, fragile. A fire held back by trembling hands. A kiss that asked "May I?" rather than "You're mine."
And she—
She didn't pull away.
His fingers cradled her face as he deepened the kiss, lips parting slowly, exploring. Even his wings curled forward—gently wrapping around her waist, drawing her in.
Her breath caught. Her voice was shaky when it came:
"Did you plan this… from the beginning?"
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he whispered against her lips:
"That arrow you shot—I remember it too clearly."
"The moment your hand lifted, I knew—"
"You would be the calamity written into my fate."
Then he bit her lip—lightly.Just enough to make her shiver.
And murmured:
"And calamity… I welcome with open wings."