Page 23

Twenty-Three

T he door dissolved behind them like mist in the wind, and Leonie stepped into something out of a dream.

Karian’s Inner Sanctum.

It was a world of glass, water, and living light.

Strange, translucent flora curled up walls of crystal. Pools of perfectly still water mirrored the stars above, and floating lights—bioluminescent creatures—drifted lazily through the air or shimmered across the surfaces like living constellations. Soft, fragrant breezes drifted through, stirred by no discernible source, carrying a scent that was floral, citrusy… and entirely unearthly.

She found herself unable to breathe for a moment.

There was no sound but the faint hum of distant water and her own heartbeat, too loud in her ears.

High above, through a ceiling of seamless glass, the galaxy sprawled in all its glory—two moons, endless stars, nebulae swirling in impossible colors. For one staggering instant, she felt like she was drifting in space, suspended between worlds.

Karian led her through the marvel with slow, deliberate steps, saying nothing. She followed, silent, overwhelmed. She was too full to speak.

He brought her through a low, arching passage, into a smaller chamber. The walls here were opaque—milk-glass and softly glowing—and the air felt warmer. Closer. More intimate.

At the center of the room lay what could only be described as a bed, though that word felt crude for something so beautiful. It was shaped like an open shell, luminous and organic, resting in a shallow basin of water that shimmered with faint light.

The bed was covered in layers of silk-like fabric, in shades of aquamarine, blue, and soft opal white. It looked impossibly soft, luxurious, almost sacred.

She stared. “This is where you sleep?” she asked, using the translator still resting in his palm.

He inclined his head. “Yes.”

His voice was lower now. Less formal. And for the first time since she’d met him, it carried something close to amusement.

Leonie blinked at him.

The difference was stark. The godlike figure she’d seen outside, masked and cold, feared and revered, had shifted into something else here. He wasn’t exactly softer—but… more real . The distance he maintained so carefully with the rest of the world had slipped, just a little.

Like the room, he’d let his guard down.

They moved slowly into the chamber, and then—just as they reached the edge of the strange, iridescent bed—he stopped.

Turned to face her.

He was so close. So tall. The way his shadow fell across her made her shiver.

His body radiated power. Strength. Control.

And yet, he simply stood there, waiting.

Her gaze traveled to the mask.

And then the words came before she could think to stop them. “Can I… take it off?”

His obsidian eyes met hers. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he nodded once.

Her heart stuttered.

She lifted trembling hands toward his face. Closer now than she'd ever dared. Her fingers found the edge of the mask, cool and smooth, and carefully, she pulled it away.

The mask slipped free with a soft hiss, and she finally saw him.

He’d already revealed himself to her once, but that had been just a brief encounter, and she’d been too shocked to truly register what she saw.

Now, in the silence and stillness of this secret, inner chamber, she really saw him.

He was exquisite.

Beautiful in a way no human man had ever been. Pale as moonlight, skin flawless and faintly iridescent. His black eyes held galaxies within them. His ears were pointed, elegant. His hair was long and black as space, falling like silk over his shoulders.

She sucked in a breath.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Her voice faltered. “Beautiful.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You did not think my kind could be?”

“I… don’t know what I thought.”

She felt small beneath that gaze. Exposed. But not in danger. Not this time.

Just seen.

His expression was unreadable for a beat longer—then, ever so slightly, his lips curved.

Not quite a smile.

But something close.