Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 15

When I've eaten a few mouthfuls, he finally speaks.

"What did you mean," he asks gently, "when you said everyone leaves you?"

I pause, letting the warmth of the savoury broth settle before I answer.

"I've been alone since I was sixteen." My voice is steady, though the memories aren't. "My mother died one evening. Later that night, my father came to my room." I frown, searching for a face that no longer exists. "I can't even remember what he looked like anymore. Time has erased him from my memory."

I lower my eyes to the bowl in my hands.

"He gave me a cup of bitter tea to drink and placed the stone in my palm. Within seconds, I drifted into a deep sleep." I swallow hard before continuing. "When I woke, he was gone."

I draw a slow breath.

"From that moment on, I was alone. I had to learn how to survive... how to live with no one but myself."

Kaelen looks at me with a sadness so profound it makes something tighten in my chest.

I point my spoon at him in warning.

"Don't look at me like that," I say. "I'm not some helpless little girl who needs your pity."

The sorrow in his expression melts away, replaced by a ruggedly handsome grin that dances with amusement.

I make the mistake of looking at him for a heartbeat too long.

His green eyes catch mine, warm and impossibly captivating. Heat creeps up my neck, blooming across my cheeks before I can stop it. Flustered, I drop my gaze back to my bowl, pretending to be very interested in the broth.

A soft chuckle rumbles from across the table.

When I glance up, it's his turn to point his spoon at me.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he says, his voice low and teasing, "I'm going to lose every shred of gentlemanly restraint I have."

The words send another wave of warmth rushing through me, and suddenly the bowl in front of me becomes infinitely more interesting than meeting his eyes again.

A quiet, challenging heat flares in your grey eyes as you look at him. You lean in just a fraction of an inch closer, your lips brushing against his jawline right where his scar sits.

"Show me," you whisper. The two words are a soft, raspy command against his skin, heavy with a vulnerability and desire that leaves no room for jokes.

Kaelen’s breath hitches. The playful grin completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a sudden, intense focus that makes his moss-green eyes darken to the colour of a stormy forest. The air in the kitchen instantly shifts, growing thick and quiet.

"Careful what you ask for, Red," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a rough, low growl that vibrates straight through you.

He doesn't wait for a reply. He stands up from the wooden chair smoothly, lifting you effortlessly in his arms without ever breaking eye contact. He carries you back toward the stairs, his strides deliberate and unhurried.

When he kicks the bedroom door open and sets you gently down onto the edge of the mattress, he doesn't pull away. He slides both hands up to cup your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the last tracks of your tears, before leaning down to claim your mouth again.

This time, the urgency is gone, replaced by something deep, deliberate, and fiercely possessive. He kisses you with a slow, consuming warmth that blocks out the rest of the world, making sure you feel every single ounce of his promise to stay.

The mattress dips under his weight as Kaelen moves over you, his movements completely devoid of his usual hurried, frantic rogue instincts. Here, in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom, time seems to stretch.

He settles over you, supporting his weight on his forearms so he doesn't crush you, his gaze locked onto yours with a fierce, unwavering intensity. His dark hair falls forward, shadowing his face, but his moss-green eyes burn with a devastating clarity. Slowly, deliberately, he reaches out and slips his fingers into yours, intertwining them against the mattress.

"I am going to show you," he whispers, his voice a low, rough vow against your lips. "Every single day. Until you never have to wonder if someone is going to stay again."

His lips find yours once more, but the desperation from downstairs has completely melted away. This is a slow, consuming heat—a patient mapping of your mouth that makes your chest ache in the best possible way. He kisses you as if he has all the time in the world, his touch reverent and deeply protective.

One of his hands leaves yours, his knuckles gently tracing a path down your cheek, over your jaw, and stopping just above the angry purple welt on your neck. He doesn't touch the bruise itself, mindful of your pain, but his palm rests warmly over your collarbone, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your throat with an incredible, trembling gentleness.

You can feel the tight coil of tension in his shoulders—the raw restraint it's taking for him to keep things this slow, this gentle, when every instinct in him wants to pull you as close as humanly possible and never let go.

He pulls back just a fraction of an inch, his breathing shallow, his forehead resting against yours as he searches your face.

"Tell me what you need, Red," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Whatever it is. I'm right here."

Your voice is barely a sliver of a whisper, but in the quiet of the bedroom, it hits him with the weight of a physical blow.

"I need you to help me find out more of my past," you say, your grey eyes holding his with absolute, terrifying honesty. You swallow hard, your hand tightening around his. "But I need you to promise I won't scare you away."

Kaelen doesn’t blink. He listens to the rough, broken edge of your voice, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second to the angry purple line on your throat before rising back to meet your eyes. The absolute vulnerability of your request completely strips away any remaining shadow of his roguish Armor.

He slides his hand from your collarbone up to the side of your neck, his thumb resting gently against your jawline, anchoring you to him. He leans down, pressing his forehead firmly against yours so you can feel the fierce, steady warmth of his breath.

"Iris, look at me," he commands softly, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register of absolute certainty. "You couldn't scare me away if you tried. I've spent my entire life running through the darkest, ugliest corners of this world. I've seen the worst of humanity, and I've done my fair share of it. You think a few ghosts from your past are going to make me run?"

He lets out a low, breathy exhale, a fierce, protective light burning in his moss-green eyes.

"Whatever your father hid from you, whatever is tied to that glowing star and the secrets of your family—we'll hunt it down together. Every shadow, every answer. If it leads us back to the syndicate, or to the edges of the map, I am right beside you."

He leans down and presses a soft, lingering, fiercely possessive kiss to the corner of your lips, right over his own scar.

"I promise you, Red. You're stuck with me. Now... where do we start?

A low, warning growl rumbles deep in Kaelen’s chest the moment your lips touch his jawline. He tries to maintain his serious, fiercely protective expression, but as your gentle kisses trail down his neck and press into the sensitive skin of his collarbone, his entire body goes completely rigid under your touch. His fingers tighten convulsively against the mattress.

"I have a distant cousin who lives on the other side of the mountain," you murmur against his skin, pausing to plant another slow, deliberate kiss that makes his breath hitch. "On horseback, the trip could take two days... but from what I remember, her parents were very well-versed in our family history. She might have the answers I need."

Kaelen lets out a ragged exhale, his eyes darkening to a stormy, desperate green as you drive him absolutely mad. He swallows hard, trying to focus on the coordinates of a two-day mountain trek while your lips are tracing the heat of his throat. "Two days... across the ridge," he repeats, his voice strained and dropping an octave. "Iris, I swear to the gods, you are playing a dangerous game right now—"

But you aren't done. You shift slightly, your lips moving back up, brushing tantalizingly close to his ear as you deliver the final blow.

"That electric shock I got," you whisper, your raspy voice sending a visible shiver down his spine. "It was the first time that has happened to me. And I know it was triggered by the strong feelings I had for you in the moment. It didn't hurt... it was powerful. And exhilarating."

Kaelen’s restraint snaps entirely.

With a breathless, defeated laugh, he catches both of your wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them gently but securely above your head against the pillows, effectively halting your teasing assault. He arches over you, his chest heaving, a dangerous, utterly captivated smirk finally breaking through his forced seriousness.

"Strong feelings, huh?" he murmurs, leaning down until his lips are a fraction of an inch from yours, his gaze burning into your soul. "You're practical magic and pure trouble, Red. You can't just drop a confession like that—that you're accidentally summoning lightning because you're madly in love with me—and expect me to map out a mountain trail."

He lowers his head, his lips brushing yours in a slow, torturously teasing mimicry of your own game. "If you wanted to see the effect you have on me, you just had to ask. But if we're going on a two-day ride tomorrow..." He slides his free hand down to trap your waist, pulling you flush against him. "...you better brace yourself. Because I have no intention of letting you out of this bed today."

I look him dead in the eyes and tilt my head to the side "Madly in love? I don’t remember using those words... is that a subconscious confession on your behalf?"

A low, trapped chuckle escapes Kaelen’s throat, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second as your counter-trap springs shut perfectly. The colour deepens slightly along his cheekbones, right over the jagged edge of his scar.

He stares down at you, his pinned hand tightening just a fraction over your wrists, caught completely red-handed.

"You are a menace, Iris," he murmurs, his voice a rich, velvety growl as he leans in close enough that his dark hair brushes your forehead. He refuses to break eye contact, his moss-green eyes swirling with an incredibly intense, unshielded warmth. "Subconscious? Sweetheart, there is nothing subconscious about it. I am entirely, consciously, and utterly ruined by you."

He slowly releases your wrists, his large palm sliding down to frame your face, his thumb softly tracing the line of your lower lip.

"So yes, I used the words," he whispers, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours. "I'll say them as many times as it takes for it to sink into that stubborn head of yours. I am madly in love with you, Red. Now, are you going to keep weaponizing my own confessions against me, or are you going to come here?"

“What is it that you want?”

Kaelen stops. The playful challenge in his eyes softens into something so raw, so entirely stripped of his usual roguish bravado, that it almost feels heavy. He looks down at you, his thumb gently smoothing over your cheekbone, taking in every detail of your face as if he’s trying to commit it to permanent memory.

He lets out a slow, quiet breath, his forehead dropping down to rest against yours.

"You want to know what I want?" he whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates right against your skin. "I want to wake up every single morning and see you breathing right next to me. I want to be the person who holds you when the nightmares hit, and the one who helps you chase down every single ghost in your past until they don't have power over you anymore."

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding down to gently tangle his fingers with yours, pressing your palm flat against his chest right over the rapid, heavy thumping of his heart.

"I spent years running from everything, Iris. Running from my past, running from the syndicate, running from anyone who got too close. But the moment I met you—The moment you threw that dagger—I stopped running."

He lifts his head just enough to look you dead in the eyes, his moss-green gaze burning with a fierce, absolute certainty.

"I want you, Red. All of you. Your stubbornness, your magic, your dangerous ideas, and your terrifyingly bad habit of getting into trouble. I want to build something real with you, where neither of us ever has to wonder if the other is going to walk away. That's what I want."

A small, breathless smile finally tugs at the corner of his lips, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. "So, do you care to share if I'm getting my wish?"

“Your wish is my command, Pointy.” I say with a soft giggle.

A bright, genuine laugh bubbles up from Kaelen’s chest, the sound rich and full as it echoes in the quiet room. The old nickname—the one you used back when you were both still testing boundaries and hiding behind sharp wit—melts away the last lingering traces of gravity in the air.

"Pointy," he repeats, his lips curling into a wicked, thoroughly captivated smile. "I haven't heard that one in a while. You really know how to take the serious out of a man, Red."

He doesn't waste another second. Slipping his arms securely around your waist, he pulls you flush against him as he shifts, rolling over smoothly so that the two of you are tangled together in the centre of the warm mattress. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he plants a row of soft, lingering kisses just beneath your jaw, entirely mindful of the tender bruise.

"If my wish is your command," he murmurs against your skin, his voice dropping to a low, contented rumble, "then I command you to stay right here. No syndicate, no mountains, and no ghosts. Just us. At least for today."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his moss-green eyes softer and more peaceful than you've ever seen them, completely surrendered to the choice he's made to stay by your side forever.

The world outside the safehouse completely ceases to exist. For the rest of the day, you stay exactly where he wants you to be—nestled deeply in the warm, quiet comfort of each other’s arms. The terrifying shadows of the drainage tunnels and the painful echoes of the past fade into the background, replaced by the steady, soothing rhythm of your shared breathing.

Propped up against the pillows, you spend hours talking in soft whispers. You map out the upcoming trek across the mountain, debating which trails are safest and how to outsmart anyone Lance might send to track you. But between the tactical planning, you find yourselves dreaming bigger, weaving stories of true adventures beyond the city walls, to places where the syndicate can never reach you. Every time your voice grows too raspy, Kaelen gently presses the cup of warm honeysuckle tea to your lips, his moss-green eyes watching you with that same fierce, quiet devotion.

As the golden daylight slowly deepens into a cool, quiet twilight, the heavy exhaustion from the past twenty-four hours finally catches up to you both.

Your head rests securely on his chest, your fingers loosely tangled in his linen shirt, listening to the calm, steady beat of his heart. Kaelen’s arm stays wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close as if keeping a silent promise to never let you go. The crackle of the hearth downstairs is the only sound breaking the silence as a profound, beautiful sense of safety washes over you.

With his warmth anchoring you to the present, you close your eyes. There are no sudden jolts of panic, no bitter teas, and no fear of abandonment this time. Surrounded by his scent and his strength, you both drift off into a deep, completely peaceful sleep, ready to face the mountain—and your past—together in the morning.