Caldan's eyes, molten gold now, held hers. He didn't answer. Not with words. Instead, his thumb, rough and warm, brushed the side of her neck, just beneath where the dagger pressed. The subtle pressure was a warning, a promise, and something else entirely. Something that made her insides clench.
Then, with a suddenness that made her heart leap, he released her. The dagger, still in her hand, felt suddenly heavy. He turned, quietly, effortlessly, and walked towards the flickering hearth, leaving her pressed against the cold stone, the echo of his voice still hot against her ear.
He didn't dismiss her. He didn't command her to stay. He simply… moved. Like a silent predator, watching. And Arin, caught in the strange tension of his presence, lingered. Her gaze, despite herself, drifted to his bare back, the scars a testament to battles she couldn't fathom. She traced the line of his spine with her eyes, a dangerous curiosity pulling her in.
