The stew was rich and hearty, chunks of venison swimming in a thick, savory broth of root vegetables.
It was the kind of meal that warmed you from the inside out, grounding and heavy.
Kael ate with deliberate slowness, savoring every spoonful. Across the rough-hewn table, Bram was tearing into a loaf of bread, recounting the story of the Bone-Bear with his mouth half-full.
"...so I tell the Guild Master, 'If you want the pelt, you come skin it yourself!' right? Hah!" Bram slammed his empty mug down, wiping foam from his beard.
"City folk don't know the first thing about real work. No offense, Kael."
Kael smiled politely, resting his chin on his hand. "None taken, Bram. In fact, you're right."
"We have... different ways of doing things in the capital. We rely on the strength of others. Like this meal."
He turned his gaze slowly to Elara. She was sitting quietly, picking at her food.
She had changed out of her apron, but the simple linen dress she wore did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts as she breathed.
Since the incident in the washroom, she had been avoiding his eyes.
"It is exquisite, Elara," Kael said, his voice dropping to that low, vibrating timber that seemed to bypass her ears and hum directly in her chest.
"I haven't tasted anything this passionate in years."
Elara's spoon clattered against her bowl. "It's... it's just stew. Old recipe."
"It's not the recipe," Kael corrected gently. "It's the hands that made it."
He reached out across the table. It was a bold move. His hand covered hers where it rested near her bowl.
Elara froze. Her eyes darted to Bram, panic flaring in her chest. But Bram was busy pouring himself another ale from the pitcher, humming a hunting tune.
He didn't even blink.
Why isn't he stopping this? Elara thought frantically. A stranger is holding my hand.
Kael felt her tremble beneath his palm. He didn't pull away. Instead, he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, once, twice.
[Passive Effect: Cognitive Nudge Active]
[ Focus: Normalization. ]
[Suggestion: This is just a polite gesture. To pull away would be an insult to a guest.]
"In the capital," Kael lied smoothly, his eyes locking onto hers,
"touch is how we convey sincerity. Words can be empty, Elara. But warmth? Warmth is truth. To refuse a guest's gratitude is considered... quite cold."
Elara's breath hitched. She wanted to pull her hand back. She knew, deep down, that holding hands with a man who wasn't her husband was wrong.
But Kael's words wrapped around her logic like a snake. He's a guest. He's from the city. I don't want to be rude.
"I... I see," she whispered, her resistance weakening. "I didn't know."
"Allow me," Kael said.
He lifted her hand from the table. He didn't just hold it; he brought it to his lips.
Bram looked up then. "Eh? What's that?"
Elara's heart stopped. Here it comes. He's going to be angry.
Kael didn't flinch. He kept Elara's hand hovered just inches from his mouth, looking calmly at the hunter.
"I was just explaining the customs of my family, Bram. When a lady saves a life, as Elara's cooking surely saved mine, we pay homage to her grace. It's a mark of highest respect."
He turned his gaze back to Elara, activating the System.
[Skill Activated: Sensory Amplification (Medium Output)]
He pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a brand.
To Elara, the contact felt like a hot iron, but one that brought pleasure instead of pain. A jolt of pure, unadulterated sensation shot up her arm, straight to her spine.
Her toes curled inside her boots. The dampness between her legs, which had started in the washroom, returned with a vengeance.
"Oh!" she gasped, the sound far too breathless for a dinner table.
Bram chuckled, shaking his head. "Fancy city manners. You realize we're just simple folk, right? You don't need to bow and scrape."
"I insist," Kael murmured against her skin. He didn't let go. He turned her hand over, exposing the sensitive skin of her wrist, and pressed a second, slower kiss there, right over her pulse.
Elara's vision blurred. She felt like she was floating. The Sensory Amplification made the stubble on his chin feel like a thousand tiny, electric needles dancing on her skin.
She gripped the edge of the table with her free hand, her knuckles turning white.
He's kissing me. Right in front of Bram. And Bram is... laughing?
The disconnect between reality and Kael's influence was fracturing her common sense.
"You're very kind, Kael," Bram said, oblivious to the fact that his wife was practically melting into her chair.
"Elara, look at that. Even a city lord thinks you're a queen."
"I..." Elara swallowed hard, her voice trembling. She looked at Kael. He was watching her from beneath his lashes, his eyes dark with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.
"Thank you... Kael."
"The pleasure," Kael whispered, finally releasing her hand, "is entirely mine."
As he pulled back, he let his fingertips drag slowly across her palm, a final, lingering caress that made her shudder.
…..........…..
The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Elara. She cleared the table with shaky hands, dropping a fork twice.
Every time she moved near Kael, she felt a magnetic pull, a terrifying curiosity to feel that electric touch again.
"It's getting late," Bram announced, stretching his massive arms and yawning.
"We've got the spare cot in the attic, but the roof leaks. Kael, you take the rug by the fire. It's warm, and the furs are thick."
"That sounds perfect," Kael said. "I don't want to impose further."
"Nonsense. Elara, get him the extra blankets."
Elara fetched the furs from the chest, moving stiffly. She walked over to the hearth where Kael was already sitting, loosening his boots.
She held the blankets out, keeping her distance. "Here."
Kael took them, but his hand "accidentally" brushed hers.
Zip.
The spark was smaller this time, but it made her jump.
"Careful," Kael whispered, his voice pitching low so Bram, who was heading down the hall, wouldn't hear.
"You're trembling, Elara. Are you cold?"
"No," she hissed, looking toward the hallway to make sure Bram was gone.
"Kael, what you did at the table... that wasn't..."
"Wasn't what?" Kael looked up at her, his face a mask of innocent confusion.
"Was it not enough? In the city, sometimes we use the lips... elsewhere. To show deeper gratitude."
Elara's face went crimson. "No! I mean... you shouldn't... we aren't in the city."
"Adaptation is difficult," Kael sighed, looking dejected. He clutched his shoulder again, wincing.
"I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm in a lot of pain, Elara. My mind is a bit foggy. The System... the magic inside me, it reacts to kindness. I can't always control how it expresses itself."
He looked at her with wide, pleading eyes. "You aren't angry with me, are you? I couldn't bear it if my savior hated me."
Guilt washed over her, extinguishing her anger instantly. He's hurt. He's confused. He's trying to be polite.
"I don't hate you," she softened, sighing. "Just... sleep, Kael. We can talk in the morning."
"Elara?"
She paused, turning back.
"My shoulder... it's throbbing. I don't think I can sleep." He bit his lip.
"If... if I wake up in the night in pain... could I call for you? I don't want to wake Bram. He needs his rest for the hunt."
Logic. Pure, manipulated logic. Bram did need his sleep. And it was the woman's job to tend to the sick.
"If it's bad," she whispered, "just knock on the wall lightly. I'll come."
"Thank you," Kael smiled. "You truly are an angel."
Elara turned and fled to the safety of her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Kael lay back on the furs, the firelight dancing in his eyes. He pulled up his status screen.
[Corruption Progress: Elara]
[Current Level: 12% (Confusion / Latent Arousal)]
[New Trait Identified: [Dormant Masochism] – Target responds positively to dominance disguised as politeness.]
He listened to the sounds of the house settling. He heard the heavy creak of the bedsprings as Bram lay down, and the softer rustle of Elara joining him.
Kael waited. He would give them an hour. Let Elara lie there in the dark, thinking about his lips on her skin, feeling the ghost of that electric touch, knowing he was just outside her door.
Tonight, the "Massage" would begin. And this time, he wouldn't stop at her hands.