Chapter 10: His Touch, Her Fire
Elira paced across the marble floor of the Kael estate's guest wing, her bare feet nearly silent, though her thoughts were anything but.
It had been five days since Zayn last spoke more than a few words to her. And each day, he was colder, more withdrawn — but his eyes burned hotter when they landed on her.
And that was the part she didn't understand.
She didn't know how to read the man she'd been forced to marry.
But tonight, something was different.
There was a storm outside. Rain lashed against the windows. Thunder grumbled low and steady. And Zayn had come home early.
He didn't say a word when he passed her in the hallway, but he didn't look away either. His gaze had lingered. Piercing. Unspoken.
*She felt it.*
Not just in her mind — but in the sudden rush of her pulse. The way her breath caught.
She was standing near the tall window when he finally walked in. The lights were dim. The air, tense.
"Elira," he said, voice deeper than usual.
She turned slowly. He was still wearing his suit — jacket open, sleeves rolled slightly, dark eyes unreadable.
"You don't have to keep avoiding me," she said, more bravely than she felt. "If you hate this marriage so much, at least be honest."
Zayn's jaw clenched. "You think I'm avoiding you because I hate this?"
"Aren't you?"
"I'm avoiding you because every time I see you…" He stepped closer. "…I forget all the reasons I shouldn't want you."
Elira's breath hitched.
Silence stretched — thick with something dangerous.
Then, he moved.
He crossed the distance between them in three strides, hands gripping her waist as if claiming territory long denied. Her hands instinctively rose to his chest, not to push, not to stop… but to hold on.
He kissed her.
There was no gentleness. No hesitation. Just fire — pure, burning, hungry.
Elira melted into him, not thinking, only feeling. The storm outside roared, but the real thunder was in her chest.
His hands slipped under the fabric of her silk robe, sliding across the small of her back. She gasped against his mouth, pulling him closer, clinging as if this was the last time.
Then suddenly — he pulled away.
Both of them breathless. Shaken.
"This can't happen again," Zayn said, voice low.
Her brows furrowed. "Then why did you—"
"Because I can't stop myself when I'm near you."
She stood frozen.
He turned and walked toward the door — then stopped.
"But don't mistake this for love, Elira," he added, not turning back. "I don't have that to give."
The door closed.
Elira stood there, trembling.
And for the first time since their wedding, she realized something terrifying — she *wanted* his love.
But he had just made it clear.
He wasn't going to give it.