Hope's POV.
The sound of the waterfall grows louder as I follow Malakar toward it, my heart pounding harder with every step. He’s already waist-deep in the water now, his bare chest glistening beneath the falling spray. His long black hair is slicked back, dark and wet, and he looks like something carved out of shadow and storm — wild, untamed, and heartbreakingly beautiful.
He reaches out a hand to me, his yellow eyes glowing softly in the dappled light.
“Come here, Hope.”
I hesitate for a breath, then step out of my shoes and slowly strip off my clothes — not out of seduction, but reverence. Every movement feels intentional, like shedding the weight of everything I’ve carried. I want this moment. I want him.
The water is cool when I step in, but it’s not unpleasant. Not with the war
