He didn't move his hand. He couldn't. The warmth of her through the simple fabric of her dress seemed to intensify, becoming the only thing he could feel.
The comfortable, familial hug had shifted into something else entirely, the air in the hut now thick and charged with unspoken questions.
Mira didn't pull away. Instead, she tilted her head back just enough to look up at him. Her grey eyes, still wet with the remnants of her tears, held a new, unfamiliar light, a mixture of vulnerability, confusion, and a daring curiosity.
The pout was gone, replaced by a soft, parted-lipped gaze that searched his face.
"I..." Eis began, his voice a hoarse whisper. He was acutely aware of every point of contact between them, her back against his chest, the weight of her in his arms, and his hands still resting gently on her curvy ass.
The old, easy boundary between nephew and aunt had not just been crossed; it had evaporated in the heat of their shared confession and this new, terrifying intimacy.
He saw the flush rise on her neck, a faint pink that betrayed the calmness she was trying to project.
Her own hands, which had been clutching his tunic, slowly relaxed, one of them sliding down to rest lightly on his forearm, a touch that felt less like comfort and more like an anchor in a suddenly turbulent sea.
The comfortable silence of the hut was gone, replaced by a deafening quiet filled with the frantic beating of his own heart.
The world had narrowed to this small space, to the woman in his arms who was no longer just his aunt, but a beautiful, complicated woman he had just made cry, and who had just given him permission for something he'd never dared to consider.
He slowly, deliberately, moved his thumb, a small, gentle stroke against the fabric covering her hip.
A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips. It was an answer in itself.
The world ceased its spin. The gentle chaos of the hut, the distant sounds from the village outside, the very air itself—it all went still and silent.
He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate. He closed the small, impossible distance and took her lips with his.
It was not a gentle, exploratory kiss. It was a claim, a seal upon the unspoken truth that had just exploded between them. For a breathtaking moment, Mira did nothing.
She didn't pull back; she didn't respond. She simply closed her eyes, a final tear escaping to trace a path down her temple and into her hairline. Her stillness was a surrender more profound than any passionate return could have been.
He was the one to break it, pulling back slowly. A thin, shimmering strand of silver connected their lips for a fleeting second before it broke.
The silence returned, but it was different now. Fragile. Laden.
Mira's eyes fluttered open. The storm of hurt was gone, replaced by a dazed, wide-eyed wonder. Her voice, when it came, was a whisper laced with a feigned, trembling reproach.
"Eis... I don't think that's how you treat your auntie."
A slow, roguish smile touched his lips, a look she had never seen on him before. The boy who had been pressured by the village was gone, replaced by a man who had faced death and was now tasting something far more intoxicating.
"Oooh," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." And with that blatant, charming lie, he dipped his head and sealed their lips together again.
This time, it was different. This time, her lips moved against his. A soft, tentative pressure that sent a bolt of pure lightning straight to his core.
Her hands, which had been resting on his arms, slid up to his shoulders, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
When he pulled back a second time, they were both breathing heavily.
"Are you okay now, Auntie?" he asked, the title a deliberate, provocative caress. His eyes, dark and intense, held hers. "Do you want to sit and talk about it?"
A shaky, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her.
"Talk?" she repeated, her gaze dropping to his lips and then back to his eyes. She shook her head slowly, a new, bold light igniting in her stormy grey eyes. "I think... we're a little past talking, don't you?"
A slow, genuine smile spread across Eis's face as he watched her retreat, her flustered words hanging in the air between them. The shift from heart-wrenching vulnerability to this practical, almost domestic concern was so uniquely Mira.
"You didn't say you forgave me or anything," he called after her, his voice laced with a new, easy teasing, "so I thought you were still hurting."
She paused by the small pantry, not looking back, but he saw the way her shoulders relaxed. "No. I'm okay now," she said, her voice softer. "I should make some meat for you.
You've been eating vegetable soup for two days. You need some meat." She busied herself with gathering herbs and a pan, the motions familiar and grounding.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, her voice barely above a murmur, "You've certainly grown taller and more... masculine. I felt like a little girl while I was on your chest."
A delicate flush immediately bloomed high on her cheekbones, and she ducked her head, focusing intently on the pan as if it were the most fascinating object in the world.
She bit the corner of her full lower lip, a nervous habit he hadn't seen in years, betraying the flustered composure she was trying so hard to maintain.
The admission sent a fresh wave of warmth through him. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, content just to watch her.
[Well, how do you feel after performing the Devil's Deed?]
The sudden, smug intrusion of the System in his mind was jarring, but for once, it didn't irritate him.
Wow, dude. You're still here, Eis thought back, a smirk playing on his lips.
[Well, didn't want to disturb your 'good work'. But since you have a moment...]
A translucent blue screen materialized in front of his vision, superimposed over the image of Mira lighting the cooking fire.
[* SYSTEM NOTIFICATION *]
[HARVEST COMPLETE]
[Prey: Greywood Wolves (x6)]
[- Wolf Meat: 48 Units (High-Quality)]
[- Intact Wolf Pelts: 6]
[- Sharp Canines: 24]
Of course. Here is that section of the scene with the dialogue integrated:
Eis grinned inwardly at the System's notification. Well thanks, man. I thought all that good meat went to waste. Not so useless after all. The sheer volume of resources was a game-changer. What are you doing here anyway?
[I was sent by the God Filma to relay the message on why you are here.]
And why are you still here? Eis prodded, his attention split between the blue screen and the tantalising smell of cooking meat.
[Well, a System without a host is used to run errands or just sit in a treasury collecting dust and being bored. So I just decided to stay.]
A plan, sharp and clear, formed in Eis's mind. Well, good. Coz for the relief of your boredom, you will have to pay a price. Work for me.
[Fair enough. You can't be more annoying than the gods.]
Just then, Mira's voice cut through his internal conversation. "Eis, your meat is ready." She placed the steaming plate on the small wooden table and then, instead of returning to her chair, she sat beside him on the edge of the bed, her posture still slightly hesitant.
He looked at her, then at the food, and a mischievous idea sparked. "Okay," he said, his voice dropping to a soft, playful tone.
"But you have to feed me. My arms don't feel so good."
Before she could protest or question the sudden weakness in the arms that had just effortlessly slaughtered six wolves, he reached out, hooked an arm around her waist, and lifted her with ease.
In one smooth motion, he settled her onto his lap, her back against his chest. She let out a small, startled gasp, her body tensing for a moment before slowly melting against him.