The fire burned low, its embers glowing like molten gold against the darkened earth. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, dampened wood, and the lingering spice of chai. Above them, the sky stretched vast and endless, stars scattered like shattered glass across a sea of black.
Aaravi sat cross-legged across from Vihan, the warmth of the fire licking at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his gaze.
They had spent the entire day traveling, exhaustion weighing on their bones, but somehow, here, beneath the quiet hush of the night, neither of them seemed ready to sleep.
Not when the air between them crackled with something unspoken.
Vihan sat in silence, his golden eyes reflecting the firelight, his shoulders tense, as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.
Aaravi had seen him fight. Had seen him kill, bleed, break. But this—this was different.
He was fighting something now.
Fighting her.
Fighting them.
She traced the rim of her cup with one finger, letting the warmth seep into her skin, grounding herself. "You're thinking too much."
A flicker of something crossed Vihan's face—guilt, hesitation, longing. "And you're not thinking enough."
Aaravi tilted her head slightly. "Then maybe we balance each other."
Vihan let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Is that what this is?"
Aaravi's pulse quickened. "What do you think this is?"
Vihan exhaled slowly, as if weighing his words. His gaze dipped—to her lips, to her throat, then back up again. Slow. Measured.
And gods, she felt it.
The weight of his attention.
The heat of it.
The way it made her ache.
"I don't know," he admitted finally, voice rough. "But it terrifies me."
Aaravi swallowed hard. Terrifies him.
She should have pulled away. Should have given him space.
But she had spent her whole life giving.
For once, she wanted to take.
She leaned forward, just enough that her knee brushed against his. "Why?"
Vihan's jaw clenched. "Because I don't trust myself with this."
"With me?"
"With wanting you."
The confession sent a rush of heat through her, spreading from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers.
He wanted her.
And yet, he was still holding back.
"Then don't fight it," she whispered.
Vihan let out a low curse, his hands curling into fists against his knees. "You don't understand. I—"
Aaravi reached out, pressing her fingers lightly against his jaw, tilting his face toward hers. "Then tell me."
Vihan closed his eyes for a long moment, his breath uneven. "You make me forget," he admitted finally, voice barely above a whisper. "Forget the war. Forget the ghosts. Forget that I shouldn't—"
Aaravi's thumb brushed against his cheekbone, a feather-light touch. "Shouldn't what?"
Vihan's eyes snapped open.
And then he kissed her.
It was not hesitant.
It was not the kiss of a man uncertain of what he wanted.
It was fire—hot, consuming, desperate.
Aaravi inhaled sharply, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping tight as he pulled her against him. His fingers tangled into her hair, tilting her head, deepening the kiss until there was nothing between them but heat and the frantic beating of their hearts.
Gods, she had never been kissed like this.
Like she was something sacred and dangerous all at once.
Like she was his.
And she didn't want it to stop.
Didn't want the night to exist beyond this moment.
Vihan's hands slid down her back, fingers pressing into her waist, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap. The warmth of him, the strength of him—it set her alight in ways she had never known were possible.
Aaravi gasped as his lips left hers, trailing a slow, burning path along her jaw, down the curve of her throat. She tilted her head, giving him more room, her body trembling at the sheer intensity of it.
"Vihan," she whispered, her fingers digging into his arms.
He stilled.
A harsh breath. A shudder. A war raging inside him.
Then, just as suddenly as he had claimed her, he pulled away.
The loss of his warmth was a physical thing.
Aaravi blinked, her heart pounding, her lips still tingling from his kiss. "Why—"
"I—" Vihan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths, as if he were trying to rebuild the walls she had so easily torn down.
Aaravi swallowed the lump in her throat. "Vihan, don't do this."
He shook his head. "I shouldn't have—"
She reached for him, gripping his wrist. "You think too much," she whispered.
Vihan let out a bitter laugh. "And you don't think enough."
Aaravi's eyes burned. "Then let me think for both of us."
Vihan stared at her, something raw and wrecked in his expression. "Aaravi, I—"
She pressed her forehead against his, breathing him in. "Stay with me. Just for tonight."
His body tensed.
For a long, painful moment, he didn't move.
Then—finally—he exhaled, slow and shaking.
And he stayed.