The surface rippled as Aryan stepped into the lake, the water lapping at his calves, his thighs, his waist.
Rai's breath caught.
Her naked body flinched at the weight of his gaze — not in fear, not in shame, but in something rawer. Something older. As if every cell of her skin remembered being watched by this man long before her mind ever dared to want it.
She turned her face away.
Gently, she pushed through the water, swimming a slow arc away from him. Not to escape. Just… to breathe.
She let herself drift onto her back, eyes closing, hair fanning out like a dark halo on the surface. Her chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths. The lake held her. The world was quiet.
The moon, now low in the sky, cast a soft amber sheen across the water. Somewhere in the forest, a night bird called — one lonely, fluted note. Wind moved through the trees like a whisper. Nothing else.
He didn't speak. Neither did she.
But she felt him.
Somewhere nearby. Still. Watching. The water shifted differently when he moved — subtle, barely-there ripples that brushed against her legs like a question.
Her eyes stayed closed.
Her wolf stirred under her skin — not wild, not restless. Just present.
She could almost sense the exact spot where he floated now — not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel.
Her fingers curled lazily through the water, her lips parting slightly.
The silence between them stretched long and wide, like the surface of the lake itself — undisturbed, but thrumming.
And though no words passed, she knew:
If she opened her eyes right now…
If she looked toward him…
Something would shift.
Something deep. Something real.
But for now, she let the water hold her.
And let the tension… breathe.