As if reality crashed back into her, Leila gasped, stumbling backward, her fingers trembling.
What had she done? This was like the first time they kissed, she didn't even have the opportunity to resist, more like her body didn't want her to resist. And instead of being angry that he had kissed her without her permission, she was disappointed the kiss came to an end.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to regain her composure.
The kiss… It had been more intense, more consuming, than the first. Her shaky gaze met Shahkhur's, his golden eyes still dark with unrestrained desire.
What was that look supposed to mean?
Her hand slid instinctively to the mark on her neck, her fingers brushing against the sensitive area. The moment of connection had left her shaken to her core, and she realized with growing unease just how dangerous it was to get close to him.
"Seems like the mate bond is more problematic than I imagined," she whispered, her voice unsteady.
Shahkhur nodded, his expression taut with a mix of guilt and frustration. "Your brother is right," he said, his tone low but firm. "We shouldn't be doing this... not as an unmarried couple."
But as much as they tried to rationalize it, neither could deny the pull between them. It was deep, overwhelming, and far beyond ordinary attraction.
Perhaps there was a way to suppress the bond temporarily, Leila thought, though the idea felt like grasping at straws.
"I'm sorry…" Shahkhur muttered, his voice softer now. "Just like before, I lost control, I will try to restrain myself next time."
His gaze swept over her, lingering on her flushed cheeks and her bright green eyes clouded with uncertainty. Her damp white hair fell in soft curls down her back, catching the moonlight in a way that made her look almost otherworldly.
Even in the aftermath of the chaos, her beauty was breathtaking.
"Thank you," he added, averting his gaze as he took a step back. "For giving me your blood."
Without another word, he turned and began walking away.
Leila stood frozen, watching his retreating figure in disbelief. Was he just going to leave her here, alone, in the middle of the forest?
"Are you just going to leave like that?" she called out, running after him. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.
Shahkhur stiffened at her touch, his hand instantly pulling away as if her very presence burned him.
"Please, stay away from me," he snapped, his voice rough and laced with barely contained longing.
He was barely holding himself together, fighting against the overwhelming urge to take her right then and there, on the forest floor. The closer she was, the worse it became. Every step she took, every glance she gave, only intensified the torment inside him. He knew he could give in, that their desires would align whenever he was ready. But he couldn't bring himself to do it—not here, not like this. Not with the rough, unforgiving ground beneath them. She deserved more than that, more than a moment born out of desperation and wild need.
Leila, sensing the shift in his demeanor, asked gently, "Are you okay?" Her voice was soft, unsure if she was intruding on something she shouldn't. She watched as his silence stretched, wondering if the anger from earlier still lingered, but before she could think further, his hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist firmly.
His eyes, filled with a wild intensity, locked onto hers.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he hissed, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration. The words were out before he could stop them, a warning, a plea, all wrapped in one. For a moment, Leila froze. She had no answer, caught in the heat of his gaze and the strained tension that swirled between them.
As she looked closer, she noticed something else—something that hadn't been there before. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his breathing shallow and ragged. It wasn't just frustration anymore. He was struggling. His whole body seemed tense, as though each breath cost him more than it should. She could see it now, the lingering effects of the poison. Despite her blood helping, it hadn't fully released him from its grip.
She wanted to help, but he was pushing her away.
The distance he was creating was painful, both physically and emotionally. Even though he was avoiding her, she couldn't just let him walk away. She had to make things right, to apologize for the things she had said in her grief and anger. She had accused him of being like the shah, of being just another manipulative, cruel man, but he wasn't.
He had risked his life to save her and had fought the monsters of the forest to pull her from the jaws of death. If he were really like the shah, he would have abandoned her, and left her to her fate without a second thought. But instead, he had been there for her—sacrificing his own safety and well-being. She had been wrong, and her heart ached with the weight of it.
"Please…" His voice was strained now, like every word was being dragged out from deep within him. He was exhausted, and it was clear that speaking to her, being this close to her, was something he was barely managing. "It doesn't help that you're this close to me." His voice was raw, almost pained, as if every inch of her proximity was a slow burn.
He took another step back, trying to pull her wrist from his grasp, but she held firm. She wouldn't let go, not this time. She needed him to understand, needed him to see that she wasn't just some helpless woman who was clinging to him out of fear or weakness. She needed to apologize and make things right. She had to show him that she cared, that she was willing to fight against the urge to turn away.
"If you're going to follow me," he continued, his tone hardening slightly, "please walk at a distance."
"If you're angry about what I said—" Leila began, she was determined to settle their differences once and for all but he cut her off sharply.
"It's not even about that," Shahkhur snapped, his tone filled with frustration, and he stopped in his track, turning towards her, he seemed even more agitated than before. "Do you know what I want to do to you right now?" The words hung in the air between them, thick with tension. Leila hesitated, unable to respond as the intensity in his voice rattled her.
Knowing that she was struggling to understand his true intentions, Shahkhur decided to be more direct. He pulled her closer, his grip firm yet controlled, his hand cupping her face with an intensity that left her breathless. Before she could react, he slipped his thumb between her lips, pressing down on her wet hot tongue and she gasped, her face reddening with both surprise and embarrassment.
She wanted to push him off, but his other hand tangled in her hair, not painfully, but with enough force to hold her in place. She couldn't move, couldn't look away, as the intensity of his gaze bore down on her and his finger in between her lips.
"I want to touch you," he confessed, his voice dark, laced with desire. The words, raw and unrestrained, made her pulse race. "I want to hold you, fill you, claim every inch and corner of you, until you don't remember your own name." His words, thick with longing, sent a shiver down her spine, and that look of seriousness remained.
Leila's mind screamed for her to step back, to create some distance between them, but her body refused to obey. Shahkhur's grip on her was unyielding, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
"I want to make love to you," he continued, his voice lower now, every word steeped in intensity, "until it's difficult to tell day from night, until all you can think about is me until there is no strength left in your body." His breath was hot against her skin, his proximity overwhelming, and her body responded involuntarily, every nerve on fire.
Leila felt her heart race in her chest, the pulse of desire flooding through her even as her mind screamed to resist. But as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from hers, she froze, every ounce of her willpower slipping away. She could feel his emotions, his need, and it was undeniable—powerful, almost unbearable.
"While it's getting difficult to control myself," Shahkhur's voice dropped, the words heavy with warning, "for your own sake, stay away from me."
The finality of his words hit her like a wave, and as he released her, it felt as though the strength had been drained from her body. She stumbled, her legs giving way beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground, unable to steady herself.
Leila's heart raced as she processed Shahkhur's words. His sudden declaration caught her off guard, and she felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her. They had been traveling in tense silence for what felt like hours, with him giving her strict instructions to stay quiet and follow behind. His presence was overpowering, and every word he spoke seemed to carry the weight of unspoken authority.
When she finally spoke, her voice was tentative, as if testing the waters. "I want to rescue my brother," she said softly, her gaze cast down at the rough terrain beneath her feet. "I can't lose him too, and Shahkhur…" She hesitated, unsure of how to continue.
But before she could finish her sentence, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"The next time you address me by that name, I will snap your neck," he growled, his voice low and threatening.
Leila froze, her heart pounding in her chest. His words were harsh, and the raw intensity in his tone made her stomach turn.
"My name is Shahryar," he continued, his voice colder now, "Even though it's disrespectful to address me by my first name, I will be excusing you this time."
Leila's eyes widened in shock at the sudden shift in his demeanor. Shahkhur? No, Shahryar. The man before her was not who she had thought him to be. The arrogance in his voice stung, but she couldn't help but be intrigued by the mystery surrounding him.
"But everyone calls you that," she argued, trying to make sense of it.
"Because they don't know my real identity," he snapped back. "You shouldn't call me that either. Shahkhur is the name of a demon, and I am not one." His words hung heavy in the air, and she could hear the frustration behind them.
He stopped abruptly, causing her to nearly stumble into him. Before she could react, he grabbed her arm, his grip firm and unwavering.
"I am coming with you," he declared, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that left her speechless.
Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected revelation. "What?" she muttered, not sure if she had heard him correctly.
"The shah will not leave you," he explained, his tone serious. "Walking back to the village is suicide, but that is not the case if you're accompanied by a demon."
Leila's breath caught in her throat. She didn't know how to respond to his words, and the gravity of the situation hit her all at once. Her mind raced, trying to process everything that had just been thrown at her. A demon? Was that truly what he was, or was it just another part of the enigma that was Shahryar?
Before she could formulate a coherent thought, he added, "Ride on my back." His voice was more matter-of-fact now as if he had already decided for her. "It's been so long since I've been to the palace, but trust me, there's no one who knows the palace like I do."