Page 51

Mine to lose

Iryen

I woke to the unexpected scent of flowers mingling with the rich, mouth-watering aroma of bacon. The sunlight streamed in through the open drapes, painting the room in golden hues. The space beside me on the bed was empty and cold, a clear sign that he had woken long before me.

With a sigh, I slipped out of bed, stretching the stiffness from my limbs.

I rummaged through the small selection of clothes I had packed, reminded of how hastily I’d prepared to leave.

My plan had been simple: get in, handle my business, and leave.

Staying longer than necessary hadn’t even been a consideration, one that now I was contemplating.

As I stepped into the en suite bathroom, I prepared myself for a quick shower.

Yet, before the hot water hit my skin, memories from last night came flooding back, vivid and unrelenting.

My pulse quickened as flashes of his touch, the heat between us, and the intensity in his gaze filled my mind.

The way he handled me, how he kissed me.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim, a maddening one.

I had never felt such pleasure before—an all-consuming fire that left me breathless and yearning for more.

The memory sent a flush over my skin, igniting sparks that lingered.

I could still feel the hardness of his body against mine, his groans weaving into the rhythm of my moans. It was a symphony of sensation that had driven me to the edge of control, and the aftershocks of our orgasms still reverberated through my body.

It had been magical, an intoxicating dream I never wanted to wake from, but reality’s harsh truth shattered the illusion.

We belonged to different worlds, worlds that would always pull us apart.

The beauty of what we had shared only deepened the ache inside me, knowing that no matter how fiercely I wanted him, how hard I was falling for him, duty had drawn its lines.

The memory of our night together felt like a cruel gift, something I would treasure and grieve over for the rest of my days.

Clearing my mind of depressing thoughts, I stepped under the warm stream of the shower.

After showering, I slip into something simple yet presentable, baby blue floral sundress and enticing aroma I had picked up earlier draws me like a beacon, leading me from the bathroom toward the kitchen.

Breakfast, I needed it desperately. My stomach felt like it was twisting in on itself from hunger, but the idea of sharing a meal with Adrian stirred a swirl of anxiety within me.

It wasn’t just about the way he made my pulse race or how his mere presence sent an electrifying tension through the air. It was the domestic aspect of it all.

How was I going to do this? I was suffocating because I couldn’t go through this pain again.

I barely survived last time. The idea of reopening old wounds, of risking everything only to be shattered once more, felt unbearable.

My heart ached with the fear of loss, of facing the same darkness that had almost broken me before.

With those thoughts swirling in my mind, I found Adrian in front of the stove, his back to me as he focused on cooking.

The sight of him stopped me in my tracks, my heart racing madly in my chest and the beats loud in my ears.

His broad, muscular shoulders moved effortlessly as he worked, and the sunlight filtering through the windows highlighted the definition of his arms and golden skin.

Lust crawled its way through my veins, a slow, raging heat I couldn’t ignore. Even with everything that had happened between us, the attraction remained the same. My breath quickened, and I fought the urge to step closer and let the desire consume me.

Dressed only in his boxer briefs, he made temptation feel like an art form.

Every line of him sculpted, effortless, maddening, a masterpiece crafted to be admired, touched, worshiped.

Goddess help me, I couldn’t look away. The way the light kissed his skin, the way every movement spoke of raw, unthinking grace—it was unbearable, addictive.

He wasn’t just beautiful.

He was irresistible .

Heat immediately rose to my cheeks from staring, and I cursed the flush that spread across my skin.

I had expected him fully dressed, but then again, this was his house.

It was intimate, seeing him so casual, so natural in this space, and I tried to focus on something else, anything, other than the way my body responded to the sight of him and this intimacy. But it was impossible.

I walked silently, taking slow, deliberate steps, enjoying the view of him as he moved around the kitchen. His biceps flexed with each motion as he stirred the bacon and scrambled the eggs. I forced myself to focus, keeping my steps steady as I made my way toward the counter.

Sitting silently on the island stool, I watched him as he moved effortlessly around the kitchen, his back shifting with each deliberate motion.

The rhythmic clink of utensils and the sizzle of food were the only sounds breaking the calmness between us.

I kept my gaze steady on him, studying the way his hands worked with practiced ease, the way his muscles rippled with every movement.

A strange warmth spread through me, the intimacy of this moment settling in.

It was just us, yet the silence between us felt like an unspoken conversation.

Every step, every turn he made, every flick of his wrist—it was a reminder of how much I longed for him, and how complicated everything had become.

No, I’ll enjoy whatever I can get—the little touches, the kisses, the view. I will make the most of it with the time we have left.

Burying any thoughts of how dire our situation is, I stay seated and appreciate the view

“You still like to sneak up on me, don’t you?” I froze. Well, I guess I got caught. I smile before responding with the same lightness he had in his voice.

“You always make it so easy,” I replied. “But this time I’m sure you heard me.”

“I heard you loud and clear.” He said—smugness lingering in his tone. “Just like last night.” His words hit me, and for a moment, I almost forgot how to breathe.

Smug bastard.

He finished cooking the eggs and bacon with effortless grace, and carefully placed the food on two plates, the golden eggs perfectly cooked, the bacon crispy and curled at the edges, the meal looking far more extravagant than it had any right to be for a simple breakfast and my stomach growled in response.

He turned to face me, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You can stop pretending you’re not starving,” he said with a half-smile, the words soft yet teasing. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“After last night, it would be a miracle not to be.” I said, biting my lower lip .

As he slid the plate before me, his gaze locked onto my mouth, his eyes hooded with desire. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, just stood there, the air between us crackling. I felt his presence, almost like a physical thread, pressing against me, pulling me in despite the counter between us.

I tried to look away, to focus on the plate in front of me, but my body refused to obey. His gaze was magnetic, drawing me in like the pull of the ocean.

Those beautiful hazel eyes, dusted with flecks of gold, mirrored the sunrise. Warm, breathtaking, full of promises I wasn’t sure I could survive.

Every time our eyes met, it felt like the world blurred, until it was just him and me, tethered together.

I knew I should look away, knew it was dangerous. But how could I?

He wasn’t just looking at me. He saw me.

And in that moment, I would’ve gladly drowned in him.

“You know,” he spoke, his voice hoarse but controlled, like he was holding something back. “If you keep doing that, biting that lip of yours… I’m going to pick you up and we won’t leave that bedroom in time for our lunch reservation—we won’t leave at all.”

“Reservation, right,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, and all I wanted in that moment was for him to keep that promise.

But I knew I couldn’t let myself get caught up in it.

I had to keep my distance from him—not just for my heart, but for the sake of my people, too.

There was so much more at stake than the will of the goddess.

I knew this distance would come with consequences from the divine, but I’m scared.

I couldn’t trust myself in the partner department.

The vulnerability, the heartbreak, the mess I was trying to avoid.

I feared that if I let myself fall too deep, I’d lose everything I was trying to protect, including the strength I needed to avenge my parents.

Shaking those thoughts away, I focused on the plate in front of me and ate.

The flavors burst on my tongue, but I barely tasted them.

My mind kept circling back, weaving between the doubts, the desires, and the ache of knowing that keeping my distance might protect me, yet it also left a deeper void.

Just as I was spiraling again, his rich baritone voice rang in my ears.

“Would you like to go for a drive around the city?”

I hesitated, my fork pausing mid-air as I glanced at him.

The idea was tempting—a chance to see the world through his eyes and maybe, for just a moment, forget the chaos that tethered us to separate destinies.

But the same temptation made my chest tighten, knowing that every moment we spent together chipped away at the resolve I fought so hard to keep.

Still, I managed a small smile. “I… I’d like that,” I said. I wanted to know him, every part of him, to understand the man who had made his way past all my defenses.