Silk & Sabotage

Part 3: The Quiet Between Us

They didn't mean to fall for each other.

It wasn't part of the mission. Not his, not hers.

But something had been burning slow between them for weeks — hidden beneath long silences, beneath clever jabs, beneath unspoken questions neither dared answer.

Now the storm had come.

The night was dark with rain, the palace windows fogged with breath and wind. Mia stood in the observatory tower wrapped in a deep burgundy robe that clung to her body with careless elegance. Her hair was still damp from the shower. The air held a heavy stillness, broken only by the hum of thunder far in the distance.

She hadn't expected him to come.

But then again, Kael Venric always came when she wasn't ready for him.

The door creaked open. His presence filled the room like a ripple. He said nothing at first, just walked forward slowly, rainwater still clinging to his shirt.

"You look like a ghost," she said, half-laughing. "Or a sin."

He stopped a few feet from her. "Which would you rather touch?"

"Neither."

She turned away, but her breath hitched — because she already knew the answer.

He closed the gap. No more than inches separated them now.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered.

"I know."

And yet, neither of them moved.

She turned slowly, eyes meeting his. Her fingers brushed his wrist — a subtle touch, but it sparked like fire.

"Say something," she murmured.

Kael's voice was low, rough with restraint. "You undo me, Mia."

The air tightened.

She didn't give him time to breathe. Her hand came up, fingers sliding into the damp strands of his hair. Her lips brushed his. Just barely. A ghost of a kiss — until he crushed the space between them.

Their mouths collided, first soft, then hungrier. He kissed her like he'd been waiting — like every glance, every silence, every stolen second had been leading here.

His hands slid up her spine. She gasped into his mouth when his lips moved to her neck, then lower — to the curve of her nape, where he pressed a kiss so slow, so achingly reverent, it made her knees nearly give out.

"Again," she whispered, almost begging.

And he obeyed — nape, shoulder, nape again, each kiss deepening, teeth grazing gently before he softened it with lips and breath.

She pulled him down to her, their bodies flush now. The robe slipped slightly from her shoulder. His hand found the exposed skin, warm and shaking.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked against her collarbone.

"If you stop," she said, "I'll burn alive."

So he didn't.

Their mouths found each other again, this time slower. More dangerous. Her fingers gripped the back of his neck, dragging him in with a kind of desperation she hadn't shown in years. He tasted like rain and sin and something she couldn't name.

They broke apart for breath. Just barely.

"Mia—"

She silenced him with another kiss, this one deep, drawn-out, full of unsaid things. It wasn't about lust — not entirely. It was about how carefully he touched her, how tenderly he held her like she was something breakable, despite everything he'd seen her do.

She kissed him again, this time softer.

And when he kissed her in return, it was on her nape, slow and intentional, then down her spine, like a vow.

Neither of them said the word love.

But neither of them had to.

They spent the night together, fully clothed, pressed close on the velvet chaise near the rain-slicked glass. His coat became her blanket. Her breathing became his anchor.

She curled into him, her head resting on his chest. He pressed one last kiss to her hair.

"Stay," she whispered.

He didn't answer.

But he didn't leave.

Not yet.