Nara's POV
The air outside his room felt different.
Or maybe it was just me, walking beside a man who had killed someone less than an hour ago, and now looked like he was taking an evening stroll with his… captive.
Valerius didn't speak as we stepped into the hallway. He walked tall, and controlled with his shoulder muscles shifting beneath his black shirt like coiled steel.
I shouldn't have been looking. I shouldn't have been curious, but I couldn't stop.
I blamed the adrenaline still kicking through my bloodstream. That, or the fact that he looked so unnervingly calm after snapping a man's neck as if it were no more inconvenient than swatting a fly.
Also, I've been with a lot of men while growing up. My father's guards, the sons of his business associates, my brothers, and more, but I've never seen a man as good looking as Valerius is.
When we reached the main door of the east wing, he reached for the handle.
I don't know what possessed me. Fear, stupidity, or something much worse but the words rushed out of my mouth before I could swallow them.
"Can I see your hand?"
He halted, and silence thick enough to crush oxygen dwelled between us.
Then he spoke, voice low and flat. "Why."
Not why? Not even why do you want to? Just why. He was infuriatingly nonchalant and arrogant.
My ears burned instantly. "I don't know," I muttered, staring at my shoes. "To be sure you're human?"
The moment I said it, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Who says that to a mafia heir? Or whatever he was. Criminal royalty. Professional monster. Man with too many shadows.
I expected him to ignore me, to walk away, or even, to make me regret speaking. Instead, he turned fully to face me now. Slowly, like someone rotating to assess a threat.
And then, without breaking my gaze, he slipped off one glove.
The breath left my chest. He didn't have to listen to me but he did, and….
He had the most beautiful hands I'd ever seen.
His long fingers, with veins tracing up like rivers under skin, were mesmerising. His knuckles were hard but elegant, nails clean and perfectly shaped. They were masculine without being brutish, danger and artistry fused into one.
I stared.
I'm sure he noticed.
He didn't say a word while he removed the second glove, pulling it off with his teeth for a second—brief, effortless, infuriatingly graceful.
When both gloves were off, he held still.
"Human enough for you?" he asked quietly.
I swallowed hard. "You tell me."
Ever since the first time I saw him, he always wore black sleeves, and long pants and boots. Added with the gloves, it was impossible to catch sight of his body, except his face.
His eyebrow lifted. "You're asking if I'm human, because you are trying to hate me."
I nodded truthfully.
He exhaled. It was the smallest, and quietest sound I'd ever heard from him. Half disbelief, and half something else entirely.
"Give me your hand," he said.
My heart stuttered. "Why?"
"Since you insist on confirming I'm human, touch it."
My cheeks flamed so hot I nearly burst into fire. "No. I didn't…. I wasn't asking to touch—"
"You were staring," he said simply.
Mortification washed over me in a tidal wave. "I wasn't—"
"You were."
I shut my mouth. He wasn't wrong. Before I could form any excuse, he reached for my wrist.
His fingers brushed my skin lightly. So lightly it felt like my blood froze in place. A spark shot through me, unfamiliar and terrifying.
He paused, not because he hesitated, but because he felt it too.
His eyes flicked up, meeting mine with an unreadable depth.
Then he moved my hand closer, turning his palm in mine, and letting my fingers relax across his skin.
And just like that, my world stopped.
His hand was warm. Warmer than I expected. Warmer than anything had the right to be. And my heart thudded so violently I was afraid he'd hear it in the empty hallway.
I whispered, barely breathing, "You're warm."
"I'm human," he replied.
It wasn't a joke. It wasn't sarcasm. It was a reminder. A reminder that monsters bleed too.
He slowly released my wrist. The contact ended, but the feeling stayed like heat trapped under my skin.
He turned and opened the door. "Let's go."
I followed, still dizzy, and still confused, still trying to figure out what on earth was happening to me.
Walking beside him felt different now. Wrong, but also… right? My body didn't know how to process anything anymore.
We stepped into the outer walkway overlooking the courtyard. The evening breeze brushed against my face. Valerius's long strides slowed so I could keep up.
After a minute, I asked, "Would you always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Hand me your hand like that."
"No," he said simply. "I don't let people touch me."
My throat tightened. "Then why—"
He eyed me from my hair to my toe quickly. His lips parted. "You're shaking again. Are you cold?"
I stiffened. "I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not—"
His gaze slid to me. One glance. My body betrayed me instantly.
Fine. Maybe I was shaking.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're going to pass out if you don't slow down."
"I'm not weak."
"I didn't say you were. You went through something traumatic, and you're forcing yourself to act unaffected."
"I am unaffected."
He gave me a look.
"Okay," I muttered, "maybe not unaffected. But I'm trying."
"You don't have to try," he replied flatly.
"Yes, I do," I said quietly. "If I don't, I'll break."
He stopped walking. The sudden halt made me almost bump into him.
His back was straight. His shoulders were tense, with his breath slow in that deadly, controlled way he always breathed when he was thinking too deeply.
"If you break," he said, voice so low I barely heard it, "I won't be able to put you back together. I'll need you whole for negotiations."
His words froze me.
He'd thought about it before. He said those words like it scared him. Like I scared him. Negotiations alone wouldn't be the reason he was trying this hard to make sure I'm fine. Or perhaps, he was just kind at heart.
"…Why?" I whispered.
He didn't look at me.
"Because you're young," he said after a long moment. "And fragile."
"I'm not fragile."
"You are. And that's not an insult."
I swallowed.
"It makes people want to protect you." He added.
Something flared hot beneath my ribs.
"…Does it make you want to?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Silence. He gave me a long and heavy silence, then, he parted his lips.
"Yes." He replied casually.
My breath caught.
He continued walking as if he hadn't just detonated a bomb between us.