Chapter 2: Too Good To Be Wrong

‎Aria woke up to silence. A thick winter morning kind of silence, that made the house feel bigger than it was.

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‎For a moment she didn't move. She lay buried under her thick blanket, staring at the carved wooden beams above her. The room was warm from the fire Rowan must have kept burning all through the night.

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‎She listened carefully, no footsteps, no voices, and still no Liana.

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‎Aria sighed softly, pushing herself up, “Great,” she murmured, " Abandoned again."

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‎She washed up, got dressed in an oversized hoodie, leggings, and fuzzy socks, then padded her way downstairs to the kitchen to fix a quick breakfast. The cold outside pressed against the windows, still as strong as last night.

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‎She made herself breakfast, scrambled eggs, toast, and tea. Every sound she made felt too loud.

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‎Her mind drifted back to Rowan. It didn't feel normal, his voice, the way his eyes dragged over her, slow and deliberate, like he was reading something under her skin.

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‎She shook the thought off and finished eating.

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‎But because she couldn't sit still doing nothing she decided to decorate the house. Liana had been excited about spending some time together this holiday; she's a huge sucker for Christmas decorations, and it might also help her avoid overthinking.

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‎She found the Christmas storage closet easily, dragged boxes filled with lights, garlands, ribbons, and ornaments to the living room, put on soft music from her phone, and began decorating.

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‎Soon the room glowed with warm light. She moved gently to the beat, humming as she strung golden garlands across the mantle. It felt comforting, grounding. Safe.

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‎Well…Almost.

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‎She climbed onto a sturdy wooden table to reach the upper beams, stretching to drape a string of pine-scented lights.

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‎Then—

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‎Footsteps

‎Heavy, controlled ones, in the house.

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‎A cold rush of adrenaline shot up her spine. She'd always been the run first and ask questions later kinda girl.

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‎She froze.

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‎“Liana?" She called.

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‎No answer.

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‎Her pulse picked. She was supposed to be alone in the house. No doors opened. Nobody had knocked. And yet someone was definitely walking. The feeling of last night resurfaced.

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‎She twisted to take a look…

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‎… And misstepped.

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‎The table jolted, and her foot slid. “Oh God—!"

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‎She tipped over.

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‎But before the scream could finally leave her throat, a hard body collided with hers. No, caught her, arms locking around her waist, drawing her into a chest that radiated heat.

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‎Her breath flew out of her.

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‎Rowan.

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‎He held her as if the impact didn't even shake him, one hand firmly on her waist, the other steadying her thighs, decently. For a second too long she wasn't on the ground, just suspended mid air, against him.

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‎Her heart thrashed loudly against her ribs, and he could feel it.

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‎She felt his chest rise and fall in sharp breath intake. Not from exhaustion, no, from something else, much darker. His grip tightened before he forced them to loosen, lowering her to safety until her feet touched the ground.

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‎He didn't let go immediately.

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‎His head dipped, as if smelling her. His jaw clenched hard. His fingers trembled once, barely noticeable, before he dragged his hands away as if her skin burned him.

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‎“What," he said quietly, with a rough voice, “are you doing climbing furniture alone?"

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‎Aria swallowed. " I…I didn't think anyone was home.”

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‎His eyes flickered over her face, down her body then back up, slowly. Too slow.

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‎“It's dangerous," his tone was soft but tighter, like he was holding something back with both his hands. “You could have injured yourself."

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‎" I was fine, until you chose to scare me.” She whispered.

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‎His nostril flared, " I didn't mean to intrude.”

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‎Then he stepped back, giving her the space she wished he hadn't.

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‎The lights she had been hanging earlier slipped from her hand. She bent to retrieve them, but Rowan crouched at the same moment, making their hands brush together.

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‎A jolt ran up her arm.

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‎She snatched her hand back, but not fast enough, because he felt it too. She knew he did. His pupils widened a fraction, his lips parted, a breath escaping out of it as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.

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‎He looked away first this time, his jaw tightening as he stood.

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‎“You're decorating," he said once after he'd regained himself.

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‎It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway…

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‎“Yes. To keep busy. The house felt… empty.”

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‎She watched his gaze drag slowly across the room. The garlands, the lights she'd already hung, the pine ribbons on the fireplace. When his eyes fell back to hers, something unreadable flickered across his face.

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‎“You made it warmer," he said. Not a compliment, more like an observation he didn't intend to voice out.

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‎Aria tucked a curl behind her ear. “Liana loves Christmas. I just thought she'd like it."

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‎He stared at her for three full heartbeats. She felt each one like a pulse in the air.

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‎Then he stepped closer again, close enough that she had to tilt her chin to look up at him. His scent hit her immediately: cold forest wind, smoke, something primal and male, so intoxicating that it filled her head with strange comfort.

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‎He lifted a hand, slowly, as if battling with himself, then stopped just before his fingers would touch her cheeks.

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‎She held her breath.

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‎But he didn't touch her. The air between them felt so electric, she could feel his warmth on her skin. The almost touch was worse than actual contact, somehow.

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‎Finally, he voiced, low and strained, “You need to be careful, Aria."

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‎Her stomach dipped.

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‎The way he said her name, like it belonged in his mouth, sent a ripple through her body.

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‎“I'm being careful," she murmured.

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‎“No." He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear. “You're not."

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‎Her knees nearly gave out as she stepped back instinctively, not because she wanted distance but because she needed air. Rowan straightened, his expression darkened as if he hated the fact that she'd moved away.

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‎“I didn't mean to startle you," he said, pulling himself together under control. “I returned early from patrol. The storm cleared enough for travel."

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‎“Oh," she breathed, “And… Liana?”

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‎A muscle ticked his jaw. " Her flight's being delayed due to the storm on her part. Might take a day or two before it clears.”

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‎" Right,” Aria said softly.

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‎He noticed her disappointment. His eyes softened, barely, but hardened again, sharper.

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‎“Don't climb again.” He said, “If you need something, call me.”

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‎She blinked. " Call you? Rowan, you're busy. And I'm perfectly—”

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‎He stepped forward, cutting her off.

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‎"You will call me," he said, voice dripping with something velvety and dangerous. “Understood?"

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‎Heat pooled low in her belly.

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‎She nodded before she could stop herself.

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‎His eyes lingered on her face… then her lips. He didn't hide it. Didn't apologize for it either.

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‎His control wavered again, she saw it this time. Felt it.

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‎Then he forced himself back, exhaling the breath he'd been holding, the storm behind his eyes brewed.

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‎“I'll be in my office," he said. “Leave the decorations, I'll get you a ladder."

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‎He turned to go.

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‎But at the doorway, he stopped, without looking back, he spoke, his voice sending tingles up her thighs

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‎“And Aria…?”

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‎Her heart jumped. " Yes?”

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‎His voice was a low growl.

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‎"Be careful. I won't always be close enough to catch you.”

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‎Then he disappeared into the hall, leaving her breathless, flushed, and staring at her own trembling hands.