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Chapter 4 – Elara's POV
The moment he stepped into the courtyard, my breath caught. Kael didn't need to notice me; his mere presence warped the air around him. But today, I wasn't just watching. Today, I was claiming.
He glanced around, as if sensing something, but his eyes didn't meet mine. Yet I knew he felt me—felt the pull I had been radiating since the moment our fingers first touched.
I walked toward him, deliberately slow, letting each step press my heartbeat into the rhythm of his. The petals from the cherry blossoms swirled around my ankles, a soft pink veil that only made him look more unreal, more untouchable.
"Kael," I said, letting the name drip off my tongue like honey.
He froze mid-step, but he didn't turn to face me. Not yet. I could feel the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides.
I closed the distance until I was just a few steps away, close enough for him to feel the warmth of me without even looking. My hand hovered near his arm, teasing the air before brushing it gently. The touch was light, but it made him stiffen, a small, controlled inhale betraying him.
"Why are you following me?" His voice was low, cautious, and… restrained. He wanted to pull back, I could see it, but he didn't.
"Because you belong to me," I said simply, my lips curving into a confident smile. I could see the faintest flicker in his eyes—annoyance? Confusion? Or was it something else entirely?
He shook his head slightly, like he was trying to convince himself of something. "That's… not how this works."
"Who says?" I stepped closer, closing the gap until the tip of my fingers brushed his chest. The fabric of his shirt was warm under my touch. "I decide how it works. I already know how it works."
His eyes narrowed, and for a heartbeat, he looked like he might push me away. Instead, he just let a shadow of a smile ghost over his lips, almost imperceptible. My chest fluttered. He smiled at me… even if it was the smallest, most secretive thing, it made my heart lurch.
"You're reckless," he said finally. "And impossible."
"And you're stubborn," I countered, tilting my head slightly to let my hair fall over my shoulder just so. "I like that about you."
He blinked, caught off guard, and for a moment, the careful walls he wore slipped. I saw it in the way his gaze softened, even as he tried to hide it. I smiled wider. This was how it would begin—soft cracks, little glimpses, teasing the pull between us until he couldn't resist.
I reached up, brushing a stray petal from his hair. His jaw tightened. He didn't move away. He didn't pull back. He just stared at me, a battle waging behind those stormy eyes.
"You're… too close," he said, his voice uneven, betraying himself.
"I could say the same," I whispered, leaning just enough to let my lips almost graze his ear. The warmth of my breath made him shiver. I caught it, my lips twitching into a satisfied smirk.
He swallowed, eyes flicking down to my mouth for the briefest moment, then snapping back to my eyes. "Elara…" His voice held both warning and disbelief.
"Yes?" I prompted, tilting my head innocently, though my fingers slid a little higher on his sleeve.
"Don't…" he trailed off, and that almost-made-me-blush moment—I knew he was struggling with his own reactions. He was in denial, yet every instinct, every muscle, betrayed him.
"I won't stop," I murmured, pressing just a little closer. Our chests almost touched now. His fingers twitched again, as if he wanted to move away but couldn't.
"You shouldn't…" he started, but the denial in his voice made my stomach flip. There was a crack in his control, and I intended to widen it.
I leaned in slightly, close enough that the warmth of his neck brushed against my cheek. My lips hovered just above the curve of his jaw, and I whispered, "I've waited too long to ask for permission."
He inhaled sharply, and for the first time, he didn't try to pull back. Not entirely. Not yet. His hand twitched near mine, like he was balancing on the edge of giving in.
"You're… dangerous," he muttered. His eyes were wide now, stormy, trying to keep the storm inside him from spilling.
"Only if you resist me," I countered softly, letting my fingers graze the line of his chest, tracing the fabric of his shirt. His pulse jumped beneath my touch, and I could feel it, strong and erratic.
He stiffened again, trying to regain composure, but his eyes betrayed him. There was heat there, hesitation, and… a faint spark of curiosity.
"Stop teasing me," he finally said, though the tone had softened. Not commanding, not denying… just giving voice to the war he was fighting internally.
"I'm not teasing," I said lightly, letting my forehead brush against his shoulder. "I'm… testing."
His hand twitched again. A small, almost accidental brush of his fingers against mine made me gasp softly, and I caught it. He froze, and then looked at me. That glance—sharp, wild, and restrained—made me blush despite myself.
"You're… impossible," he said again, and this time there was a hint of exasperation, maybe even admiration buried under his denial.
I smiled and stepped closer, letting my lips brush his ear this time, almost daring him to react. "And yet… you like me anyway."
His chest moved in a sharp inhale. His denial was cracking. The subtle heat radiating off him made my heart hammer. And I pressed a little more, daring, confident, because every second I lingered was a promise he couldn't ignore.
"You… you can't…" he started, voice low, strained.
"I can," I whispered, and in that moment, I let my hand slide from his sleeve to his chest. The warmth of him under my palm was intoxicating. I could feel him tense beneath my touch, but he didn't pull away. Not entirely. Not yet.
His jaw shifted slightly as he swallowed, his eyes dark, stormy, and absolutely magnetic. The denial was there, yes. But it was waning. And I was patient. I didn't need to rush. Not yet.
Instead, I let the moment stretch. I let our closeness speak louder than words. The way his pulse thumped beneath my fingers, the subtle brush of his shoulder against mine, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly whenever I leaned closer—all of it made the moment alive, charged, and undeniably intimate.
Finally, his hand twitched, then settled on mine. Just a little, tentative, as if testing the water. My heart leapt. A smile curved my lips.
"You're… impossible," he said one more time, voice low, almost resigned, as though admitting defeat without saying it.
"Maybe," I whispered back, pressing my lips ever so slightly to the shell of his ear. "But even impossible… can be… mine."
And in that moment, he didn't deny me anymore. Not fully. Not yet. But he didn't stop me either.
The garden seemed to fade, the cherry blossoms suspended in midair. Just him, me, and the tension that crackled between us. That first official step into the pull we couldn't resist.
I smiled to myself. Patience, persistence… obsession. I had all three. And Kael? He was slowly learning that some things couldn't be denied.
I leaned closer again, daring, bold, confident. His eyes flicked down to my lips. A tiny gasp escaped him. My heartbeat hitched. And I knew, right then, that the chase… had officially begun.
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