Lila's POV
"You shouldn't be here," Kian said, his voice hard and cutting through the quiet.
My hand was hanging above the door handle when I froze. I had just left my house in the hopes of seeing him. His tone chilled me, even though the morning sun was warm. There were mottled shadows on the ground between us as the golden light poured through the trees that circled the little area where our homes were located.
"I… I just wanted to thank you," I mumbled, shakily. "For keeping me alive. for allowing me to be here." Feeling uncomfortable and out of place in this strange spot, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I had a gut feeling that I was not wanted here.
His blue eyes pierced me as he turned to face me. They were cold and far away, like the tint of a winter sky. The scar that ran over his temple was partly hidden by his dark hair, which fell across his face. "I don't need your thanks. Simply avoid trouble.
I looked at something in his hand as I nodded. A new, deep cut that was bleeding. In sharp contrast to his brown skin, the red line stretched from his fingers to his wrist. I took a mindless step forward. "You're hurt."
As if he hadn't even noticed, he looked down at his hand. At his feet, blood trickled into the dirt. "It's nothing."
"Let me help," I blurted out. "I am skilled in wound care. I learned from my mother. Despite my nervousness, I tried to look confident as I pointed to his injury.
His jaw tensed as he paused. As he thought about my offer, the muscle in his cheek twitches. I briefly believed he would say no. But then he sighed and nodded. "Fine. Come with me."
I followed him to his cabin, my heart racing. The path was short, just a few steps from where we were, but it seemed like crossing an important border. His house was bigger than mine, positioned at the edge of the opening where the forest got deeper. The wooden door creaked as he pushed it open.
The inside was small but clean, with a tiny table and a bed in the corner. Sunlight streamed through a single window, lighting dust particles floating in the air. A rack stood against one wall, loaded with old volumes. He sat down on a wooden chair, stretching his hurt hand.
I grabbed a cloth and some plants from the shelf where I found soothing things. His arrangement was flawless; everything had its place. I found a bowl and poured water from a pitcher, then returned to where he waited.
"This might sting," I warned as I cleaned the cut. The water in the bowl turned pink as I worked.
He didn't move. His eyes were on me, watching every move I made. My hands began to shake as I felt his strong, heavy eyes. I tried to ignore how close we were and how I could smell his smoke and woods while I focused on the job at hand.
He said, "You're good at this," in a quieter tone. The sharp edge from before had become smooth.
Startled, I looked up. I was surprised to see how close our faces were. "Thank you. My mother… she was a healer." I gently wiped the wound to get rid of any leftover dirt. "She taught me everything she knew before she died."
His eyes remained fixed on mine, but he did not answer. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was in them. Something that he was trying to hide, a spark, a flicker of feeling. Unspoken questions filled the tense silence between us.
I carefully wrapped the cloth around his hand to finish the patch. I didn't back down, though. Warmth spread through me as my fingers stayed on his skin. He had hard scars on his hand, which were a result of living outside. I became aware of how close we were as his breath caught.
"Lila…" he mumbled in an angry voice. He had never called my name before.
His lips were on mine without notice, and I had no idea who had moved first. He seemed to have been holding back for too long because of the intense and passionate kiss. With my hands tangled in his hair, I returned the kiss. It was softer than I expected, sliding between my fingers.
He pulled me onto his lap, his hands holding my waist. I could feel his heart beating against my chest, matching the pace of mine. His lips traveled to my neck, and I gasped, arching into him. The touch of his tongue on my skin sent thrills down my spine.
"Kian…" I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn't reply. He paused in quiet question as his hands crept to the hem of my shirt. He pulled it over my head after I nodded, his eyes getting gloomy as he took in my presence. Then came his own clothes, which showed a marked and scarred chest.
He got up and brought me to the bed, lifting me along with him. As he put me down, the blankets felt cool against my hot skin. His hands were everywhere, touching, exploring, as if he couldn't get enough of me. I experienced the same feeling, studying the layout of his body by running my fingers over the curves of his muscles.
We quickly threw away the clothes we still had, clearing the obstacles in our way. Every touch was emphasized in the silent room as his skin felt electric against mine. Birds were calling to one another outside, but the sounds were unimportant and far away.
His lips left lines of fire on my skin as he kissed his way down my body. My back rose off the bed as he hit sensitive spots, and I gasped. As his mouth continued its journey, his hands braced my hips.
When he moved back up to kiss me again, I put my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world stood still. Then he was moving, joining us together, and I cried out at the feeling.
The world outside faded. It was just the two of us, breathing and moving together. It was pure, powerful, and unlike anything I had ever experienced. The beat we found was urgent, desperate, as if we were both seeking something we couldn't name.
As we moved, breathing in short spurts, his forehead brushed against mine. My nails dug into his skin as I gripped his shoulders. His chest vibrated with the sound of his groan. The stress between us increased, and I felt lightheaded from the rising feeling.
It was powerful when it was launched. I shook beneath his body as I called his name. Shortly after, his breathing was heavy and his face was buried in my neck.
We laid there with our bodies linked when it was over. His arm wrapped around me, his fingers drawing lines on my skin. I felt safe, for the first time in what felt like forever. Time passed and the room was covered with deep shadows from the afternoon sun.
Neither of us said anything. Words didn't seem necessary, or maybe too risky. I studied his face, relaxed in the wake, and wondered what he was thinking. His face didn't show anything.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, the light had changed. Kian stood by the window, dressed, and looked out. He heard me stir and turned.
"You should go back to your cabin," he stated, his voice bland. The same coldness I'd first experienced had taken the place of the warmth.
I nodded, gathered my clothes and dressed quickly. I turned to check behind me as I got to the door, but he had already turned away.
However, the moment was short-lived.
I felt weak when I woke up two days later. My gut churned and my head was spinning. My legs failed me as I tried to get out of bed, and I fell to the ground with a thud that sounded as if it were echoing throughout my tiny house.
My voice was weak as I called out. As I tried to crawl toward the door, black dots danced in my vision. My body was strange and resisted my orders.
Before everything went dark, the last sound I heard was Kian's voice calling my name.
I awoke amid worried faces in the pack's hospital. My nose was flooded with the antiseptic smell of medical plants. Too bright for my sensitive eyes, sunshine poured through the windows.
Over me hung the pack doctor, an old woman with brown hair streaked with gray. After giving me a serious look, she said, "Lila… you're pregnant."