Love The Way He Lied

Kyel had never considered himself a coward.

He'd faced wild beasts in the forest, sharp steel on the battlefield,. But tonight… tonight he fled.

He fled the woman he loved, wrapped her like a gift in a bedsheet—tight enough that she wouldn't be able to move—and locked the bedroom door behind him like it held back a demon. Which, frankly, it did.

Stumbling down the stairs barefoot and breathless, his legs wobbled beneath him as though they'd forgotten how to carry him. He gripped the railing for support, muttering curses beneath his breath.

The battle was over—but he wasn't sure who had won.

His body was hot, his pulse wild. His shirt was wrinkled. Every step away from that room felt like retreating from war, and yet the war still raged inside him.

Collapsing on the couch like a man who'd just outrun death, Kyel threw himself down and buried his face in a pillow.

"Damn it," he groaned, muffled. "Damn it, Eva…"

But even the thick pillow couldn't block her out.

"Kyel…" her voice called faintly from upstairs, dreamy, wanting, drenched in desire.

"Kyel…"

His body jolted.

It was like her voice reached down through the floorboards and gripped him by the throat.

"Nope." 

He grabbed the other pillow and slammed it over his head, as if two pillows would help him fight her spell.

 "Shut up… shut up, shut up, shut up…"

But his mind betrayed him. The moment he closed his eyes, she was there.

Her flushed face. 

Her parted lips, whispering his name. 

The soft weight of her breasts against his chest. 

The taste of her kiss. 

The heat of her skin. 

Her desperate moan—"Touch me, Kyel…"

And just like that, his body sprang to attention again, throbbing against the tight fabric of his trousers.

He groaned, yanking the pillow off his head and flinging it across the room. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Dragging himself off the couch, Kyel stomped toward the bathroom like a man preparing for battle again—but this time, against himself.

"I need to calm down," he muttered. "I need cold water. Ice. Ice and chains."

The bathwater was freezing.

He sat there for what felt like forever, shivering in silence. The candles had all burned out. The room was dim and misty, and still—still—he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Her scent still lingered on his skin.

Her bite mark still burned on his neck.

His hand reached up, brushing the swollen flesh just beneath his collarbone. A faint smile curved on his lips.

"I didn't know she could bite that hard," he whispered, almost proudly. "That was… something."

And then the cheek. He rubbed the red welt she had gifted him.

It wasn't just passion last night. It was violence. Beautiful, maddening violence.

He let out a long sigh. "Gods help me, she's going to kill me one day…"

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, the sky outside was turning from ink to grey.

Finally… silence.

He tiptoed up the stairs, cracked open the door, and peeked inside.

Eva lay curled on the bed, asleep—finally. Her breaths came soft and steady, like the ocean after a storm. The sheet was still tangled around her legs, her hair a wild halo across the pillow. Her lips were parted slightly. Peaceful, innocent… as if she hadn't nearly driven him insane a few hours ago.

He stepped in quietly, gently unwrapping the rest of the sheet from around her.

He lifted her head and placed it gently on the pillow, brushing her hair aside and pulling the blanket over her.

"You sleep tight, princess," he whispered, eyes softening.

 "I guess I won't be able to."

Then, without another word, he exited the room and returned to the couch.

By morning, the sky was golden.

Kyel stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair damp, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He moved carefully, silently, preparing a soup that was supposed to cure hangovers—or in this case, post-aphrodisiac chaos. A secret recipe from the palace apothecary. Not that Eva needed to know that part.

He heard movement upstairs, soft footsteps, a faint groan.

She was awake.

He didn't even have to look to know she'd be confused.

Eva's voice drifted from the stairs. "Kyel…"

"In the kitchen, princess," he called over his shoulder. "You're awake."

She appeared a moment later, one hand holding her head, she leaned against the doorway.

"I think… my head's going to explode," she said.

"And I'm starving."

Kyel gave her a smile. "Conveniently, I made soup."

She frowned. "Hangover soup?"

He nodded.

"But I didn't drink anything last night," she said, confused.

Kyel paused. "You did. Got drunk. Then passed out on the table."

She blinked. "I… don't remember any of that."

"Probably for the best," he muttered under his breath.

She stepped closer, then gasped. "Wait—your cheek. Did I hit you again in my sleep?"

"I'm so sorry, honey!" she cried, reaching for his face.

On instinct, Kyel pulled back—just slightly—but it was enough.

She blinked. "Did you just… flinch?"

Kyel looked guilty. "No. I mean—yes. A little. Not because of you. Well… kind of. But not like that."

"I'm not going to bite you," she said, offended.

He scratched the back of his neck, mumbling, "Well, that's… debatable."

"What?"

"Nothing." He leaned into her hand this time.

She brushed her fingers over his cheek. "Does it hurt?"

He winced. "A little. You've gotten stronger."

"Guess I've been training too hard," she said with a crooked grin. "My slaps are starting to leave marks."

He gave her a mock glare. "You're lucky you're cute."

Kyel handed her the soup. She sat at the small table, taking the first spoonful.

Her eyes lit up. "Mmm. This is actually good."

"I do have my talents," Kyel said with a wink.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, warm sunlight pouring through the window.

Then Kyel pushed his chair back.

"Princess… I have to go."

"To work?"

He nodded.

She smiled softly. "Okay. Take care."

Kyel lingered at the door for a moment.

"You too."

Then he was gone, the door shutting gently behind him.

Eva stared at the empty doorway, rubbing her eyes.

She still didn't remember what happened the night before.

But for some reason, her lips tingled… 

Her body ached in odd places.