Stella furrowed her brows as she felt her hand go numb. When she tried to move it, it caused her a small amount of pain, but in reality, she couldn't feel her arm or hand fully. It was as if they were two limbs independent of her body. Blinking her eyes open, she grabbed her numb arm with the other hand and freed it from where it had been trapped under her body. Her arm had gone numb from being underneath her, but that wasn't why her body felt frozen. She knew she'd fallen asleep in front of the fireplace; unless she had amnesia, she couldn't have forgotten that. The absurdity of finding herself in bed had only surprised her to a point, but that wasn't the real issue either. It was the arm around her waist and the warmth spreading across her back, despite the room being freezing. Swallowing hard, Stella tried to make sense of the situation. The arm wrapped around her was holding her so tightly that even if she wanted to move, she couldn't.
Someone had nestled up to her, wrapping their arms around her body, and in this bed, in this room, there was only one person with the right to do that. Stella instantly knew who it was, though that didn't mean she felt calm. For the first time in her life, she'd slept entwined with someone else, and she had to admit, she'd had a pretty restful sleep. Forcing herself to think, she swallowed hard. She'd married this man without exchanging a single word, danced with him until late last night, only for him to disappear shortly afterward. And now, he was holding her in his arms as if his life depended on it. His face was nestled into the back of her neck, and from his shallow breaths, it was clear he was still in a deep sleep. When Stella tried to inch forward in the bed, the arm holding her tightened instantly to keep her from leaving. She couldn't help but widen her eyes at the pressure she felt on her hip, and she quickly covered her mouth with her free hand, managing to stifle a gasp of surprise.
She was delicate and naive, but she wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what was pressing against her and what the hardness meant. Even with a blanket covering them, she knew the king was shirtless underneath. The low back of her nightgown was enough for her to figure that out. While cursing her own foolishness, she knew that, in truth, she couldn't have chosen anything else to wear instead of the nightgown she'd desperately picked. Everything else was far too revealing. Whoever had organized the wardrobe, Stella had realized that the only things that truly belonged to her were her daily clothes. Nightwear was a separate issue—even her underwear wasn't hers. They were all new, but that wasn't the problem. Stella couldn't remember how many times she had worn a thong in her life. Actually, that wasn't true—she could remember: never. She had never considered wearing such things before. Especially not with her uncle's eyes constantly on her, even if she had wanted to. Thinking about her uncle made her shudder, and although Brandon was still lost in sleep, thinking she was cold, he pulled her even closer, pressing his hips against her and nestling in tightly.
Cold sweat threatened to break out on her forehead as Stella struggled to figure out what to do, how to get out of this situation. It was inevitable, of course; how long could she keep running? She was married now, and her husband was the most feared, powerful, and handsome king in the universe. No matter how much she was scared, it would happen eventually—if the five kingdoms hadn't intervened, it might have already happened by now. Her eyes darted around the room in fear as she made one last attempt to slip out of Brandon's arms, and this time, she succeeded. As Brandon rolled onto his back, it was clear from his face that he had drifted into a restless sleep. Biting her lip, Stella carefully dangled her feet over the edge of the massive bed and slowly climbed out. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and she felt a strange mix of excitement. Brandon's hold on her hadn't actually bothered her; on the contrary, she'd enjoyed it so much that it made her feel good, and her cheeks flushed with the shame of it.
Her bare feet made little noise on the stone floor as she quickly entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and approached the sink to wash her face. She could hear the sound of her own heartbeat. For a brief moment, she had dared to look at her reflection, but that was enough to remind her of how much she was affected by Brandon. As she sat down on the stone floor, pulling her legs close to herself, she waited for her breathing to calm.
"Idiot, how far do you think you can run?" she murmured to herself, quickly pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen across her face. Her hands trembled as she covered her face, though it was her shame that caused the shaking. Stella didn't know what the sensation between her legs was, but it made her feel dirty—she was wet. "I can't believe it," she whispered. Her shame spread from her throat to the nape of her neck, turning her skin red, and her sharply bitten lip began to bleed, almost as if in warning for her to stop. Forcing herself to stand, she braced her hands on either side of the sink, trying to catch her breath. "Idiot," she whispered, shaking her head as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, confronted by her own anger. "You're worthless to your family, nothing but a sexual object in your uncle's eyes. What makes you think he sees you any differently that you're so affected by him?" Her whispers echoed in her own ears like shouts. Trembling, she tried to steady herself, but she was already in the freezing bathroom of a freezing room. She didn't need air, but she was so flushed. Both her anger and shame had tangled together—her hands were icy, but inside, she was burning.
"Of course, my king." She had just started to calm down when the murmurs from the room reached her ears. The shrill sound radiating from her throbbing temples filled her ears, but the fact that the noise was diminishing indicated she was calming down. Swallowing, she approached the door and tried to listen to the sounds coming from inside. She had no idea what time it was, but daylight hadn't come from outside yet, so it must still be night. She had heard that the nights in Nyxoria were long, but could they really be this long? Stella had woken up once, eaten something, then Brandon had come and carried her to bed, joining her in her second sleep. Why had he carried me to bed? Had he wanted to do something and then fallen asleep? The thought of Brandon forcing himself on someone was already disturbing enough, but the fact that the person she was referring to was herself made it even more frustrating. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she saw that her captivating appearance was still intact. Though she didn't see herself as particularly mesmerizing, it was an indisputable fact—she looked stunning, in every way. Realizing she couldn't hear anything, she reluctantly gathered her courage. She was a bit disappointed that she couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Carefully turning the door handle, she had to slowly exhale the breath she had been holding as she stepped into the dim room. As Brandon stood in front of the massive windows he had opened, gazing outside, Stella felt herself shiver on his behalf. Wasn't he cold? Though she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself, the cold air flooding in from outside was so intense that the fact Brandon didn't shiver or flinch even once showed her how each person truly adapted to the climate of their planet, embracing it. When she took a shaky breath, though it was a very quiet breath, Stella felt frozen in place when Brandon turned to her. Her bare feet were freezing on the cold stone floor, and apart from the warmth spreading from the nape of her neck, there wasn't the slightest hint of body heat anywhere.
"Good morning." Was it morning already? There was no need to glance around; she had underestimated the twilight, but it was a twilight that was quite close to darkness. As Stella nodded silently in response, Brandon gestured toward the burning fireplace, trying to speak without pressing her too much. He knew he had made the right decision not to remove the blanket from her—if he had encountered this sight last night, he had no doubt he would have had a heart attack on the spot. Stella had only just noticed the fireplace, and without delay, she headed toward the pillows she had dragged there last night, intending to sit down, while Brandon raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his surprise at receiving such an impulsive reaction from Stella for the first time. He made no attempt to conceal the smile on his lips that came with the realization that he liked it. Before approaching her, he closed the windows, the source of the cold air flooding into the room. He needed to be more careful now; as a Solarian, Stella was used to warmer climates. Being the sun's planet meant it was a very hot climate. As he walked toward Stella, he cast a brief glance around the room. The temperature wasn't the only thing he needed to be mindful of. When he looked at Stella, an unfamiliar tenderness tightened in his chest. As the wardrobe was being organized, Brandon had carefully scrutinized the clothes that were put away, resulting in a wardrobe full of overly bright and warm colors.
Brandon's wardrobe, on the other hand, was black—no need for further description—it was pitch black. As Stella tried to warm herself, Brandon muttered a small curse at his own selfishness. Opening the window had become a habit for him; the cold air played a significant role in waking him up. Yet now, watching Stella's small hands tremble as she held them to the fire both irritated and warmed him inside. "I didn't expect to leave you alone last night. I hope you'll forgive me." Stella felt her breath catch in her throat as she stole a glance at Brandon. She nodded, her curls moving gently around her like the calm waves of the sea. As Brandon reached out toward those curls, he slowly sat down beside Stella, careful not to startle her. "Why did you sleep here?"
She wasn't sure if she had swallowed her voice, but Brandon speaking to her was certainly not something she had expected. She had anticipated a cold shoulder, a sour expression, a rude demeanor. As much as she didn't want to think about it, she had even considered the possibility that Brandon would force himself on her. Just as her uncle had said, he thought Brandon would discard her like a rag once he was done with her. But Brandon, surprising both her and himself, was now twirling her soft, delicate curls around his finger, watching her every move as if he wanted to engrave them into his memory.
"I... I was hungry..." She swallowed, feeling her throat go dry. It must have taken her too long to continue, for Brandon felt his anger surge to his brain. Had they left her hungry? Even after all the orders he had given to keep an eye on her?
"Were you left hungry?" Stella, noticing the change in his tone, looked at Brandon in surprise for a brief moment, then quickly shook her head from side to side, pointing to the table beside her. On the same table now sat a different plate of food. Though her gaze drifted toward the steaming drink in her cup, she knew she had to speak first. "No. I don't know who, but when I woke up, someone had left some food. Then I fell asleep here." Brandon, feeling his anger subside without quite understanding how, continued to watch Stella closely. It wasn't typical for him to get angry so quickly—he had never been easily angered, even on the battlefield—but there was something about Stella, something he couldn't figure out, yet knew he shouldn't rush to resolve. Knowing she hadn't gone hungry in his absence instantly eased his mind, and he understood that her falling asleep in front of the fireplace was likely a result of trying to warm herself, which further calmed him.
As Brandon moved a little closer to her, Stella once again held her breath. His masculine scent filled her nose, and her rapidly beating heart seemed to challenge the confines of her chest. The strange thing was that she wasn't afraid, not even when she felt Brandon's arm wrap around her, or when she noticed his face nestled among her hair, even at the nape of her neck. Swallowing, she lifted her gaze to meet Brandon's careful eyes, and Brandon slowly, and very deliberately, took hold of Stella's chin. The care he showed toward the delicate skin between his two fingers astonished him once again, and he resisted the urge to shake himself free of it. There was no need to unravel in front of her. It was clear—Stella had captivated him—but there was also the undeniable fact that he didn't know her, that he knew so little about her that it was impossible to feel anything definitive. Yet inside, he felt as if he were in an entirely different world—Stella, with seemingly no effort, took his breath away.
Though he gently turned her face toward him with his grip, her gaze remained fixed on his every expression, following every movement except his eyes, revealing her shyness. As Brandon's thumb slowly caressed Stella's chin, she was sure her tongue had been tied. The only reason she wasn't entirely certain was that she was too cold to feel anything. Neither the blazing fire nor the warmth from Brandon's touch had managed to thaw her freezing limbs. "Are you okay?"
At first, she looked at him with confusion, but then, as if her ears had whispered the words back to her, she found herself nodding. Brandon nodded along with her, whether he believed her or not. He had no idea how to approach this, but strangely enough, it didn't bother him. In every way, in every situation, Stella was his first. That fact alone pleased him. As the fingers holding her chin slowly released their grip, Brandon moved his hand to her cheek, and with a deep breath of satisfaction, he felt the soft, smooth skin against his palm. How could someone possess such beauty, such purity? Brandon didn't believe there was a single man who, upon seeing Stella, wouldn't be drawn to her. Realizing he shouldn't dwell on this thought any longer, he felt the instant rush of tension in his veins. What's wrong with me? Was I actually jealous of my thoughts now? Of imaginary people? Stella had a perfect body, an exquisite, smooth complexion, and a face so beautiful that the sun and moon seemed to worship it. Why had they hidden you?
"Stella." When Stella finally gave in and raised her gaze to his eyes, Brandon had to hold his breath. Those amber eyes left a mark on his heart. "Why haven't I seen you before?" A shiver ran through her body, Brandon attributed it to her still being cold, reached for one of the folded blankets on the floor, and gently draped it over her shoulders. Grabbing the warm mulled wine from the table, he handed a glass to Stella, not wanting to question the hour as a newly married couple. As the alcohol slid down her parched throat, Stella, despite tasting alcohol for the first time, didn't scrunch her face. Whether it was the shock of the question Brandon had asked or the warming effect of the hot liquid, she couldn't say. But Brandon noticed the slight wince she didn't, and momentarily forgetting the question he had asked, began watching her again, unable to suppress his smile. He had no doubt that the more he looked at Stella, the more addicted to her he would become.
As the room filled with silence, the only sounds were the raindrops tapping against the window and the crackling of the fireplace. Stella hadn't thought she would struggle to adjust to Nyxoria since she didn't expect to stay there long. However, during the short time she would be there, she had no idea how she would adapt to these weather conditions. When she realized she hadn't answered Brandon, she gathered her courage and raised her gaze to meet his face. The intense look she encountered made her grip the golden goblet tighter, trying not to shiver once again.
"I—," she cleared her throat, trying to buy herself some time before answering, while Brandon sipped from his goblet, watching her. When his finger gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Stella managed to close her mouth and control her surprise. "I just wasn't enough eye-catching as my cousins. I wasn't hiding." Brandon's brows furrowed, though Stella, unaware, took another sip of her drink, feeling slightly calmer. She wasn't sure if it was the effect of the alcohol or Brandon's calm demeanor towards her, but it was something she refused to think about at the moment. At least, for now.
"Not eye-catching enough?"
Stella hesitated, thinking she might have said something wrong, and paused with the goblet still at her lips. Brandon continued to watch her intently from under his furrowed brows. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" The goblet tightened in her fingers as Stella felt something twist inside her. She realized she had begun to speak foolishly; she should have just said she didn't know or perhaps thrown the question back at him, like 'Well, I saw you,' but Brandon had clouded her mind. Stella now wondered how much her legs were trembling. She was grateful she wasn't standing.
When Brandon reached out and gently took her goblet, lowering it, Stella noticed the wine that had dripped from the corner of her mouth. She moved to cover her mouth with her hand, but Brandon caught her hand too, not allowing this appetizing sight to be hidden from him. As he leaned in closer, Stella felt a shockwave shake her to the core, and Brandon, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, pressed his lips to the side of hers, wiping away the stray drop of wine. He set the goblets down and brought his free hand to Stella's nape while she held her breath, frozen in place, overwhelmed by the proximity and the mix of emotions she couldn't quite grasp. As Brandon's lips traced the path of the wine, neither knew which of them was burning hotter. Was it Stella's skin that was so warm, or was it Brandon's lips on their journey?
As Stella let out a shaky breath, Brandon caressed her wrist before releasing it; hurting her, even accidentally, would have troubled him greatly. His lips hovered just above her chest, and Stella found herself unable to control the deep breaths that made her chest rise and fall, silently reprimanding herself for it. Of course, that is, if she lived to see another moment. Brandon, lips still pressed to Stella's skin, paused and swallowed hard—he had fallen. It was a hard, heavy fall. Never before had he felt so out of control, so difficult to restrain. Even during his adolescence, he had always stopped his sexual encounters just shy of completion, unable to bear a second longer. And of course, this had never occurred in his own room—just the thought of falling asleep with someone else's scent clinging to his space was nauseating. Until he met Stella, Brandon had standards. Now there was only Stella, and his standards were shifting to align with her.
Even though his lips felt as if they were on fire, Brandon didn't want to pull away from Stella's skin. The way her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths distracted him, but when he finally forced himself to look up and meet the gaze of the frightened wife who had surrendered herself to him, he reluctantly drew back. The mere thought of Stella being afraid of him was terrifying. When Stella's eyes met Brandon's again, he slowly released the fingers grasping her nape, lowering his hand to caress her cheek. "Did your uncle hurt you, Stella?"
As the changes came one after another, Brandon kept his seriousness intact for his own sake, gazing at Stella's radiant, life-giving eyes with tenderness. The question that already troubled and gnawed at him had to be asked; he needed to know how to act and whom to confront as soon as possible—or what he should do.
"W-what?" As Brandon involuntarily furrowed his brows, Stella noticed that he was slowly becoming angry, but she had no idea how to handle this situation! How had he noticed? Was it that obvious from the outside? The hand on her cheek turned her face back toward him, making her breathe out a shaky breath that served as Brandon's answer. What good would it do to deny it now? When Brandon mentioned her uncle, he had seen the change and clear discomfort in Stella. What other explanation could there be? It must have been why they had kept her hidden, out of sight. Stella would have raised too many questions, and her uncle probably didn't want any of it to be heard—the bastard, of course, he wouldn't care. How could he have done it? Hurting such a delicate creature... Brandon's eyes betrayed his anger, which Stella must have misunderstood, as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for a blow. Brandon, baffled by his own reaction, withdrew his hand from her cheek, and for a moment, he hesitated, unsure what to do with his hands.
Stella still hadn't opened her eyes, her hands clenched into fists. Even though there was no sound or movement, she couldn't muster the courage to open them. When Brandon's hand grasped Stella's slender waist, she flinched but chose to ignore it as he pulled her roughly against him, pressing his face close to her bare skin. "I won't hurt you, Stella." His nose traced along her jawline as he inhaled her scent, and for a brief moment, he felt the crushing weight of having frightened her, even if only accidentally. "I can't say the same for those who've hurt you; know that." For a moment, Stella expected a conflict between what she heard and what she felt. It would have been easier that way because right now, Stella felt like she had fallen into a pit she would never escape. When the door knocked and servants entered, Brandon pulled away from her, but Stella remained where she was, feeling as if she couldn't move. The sounds and presence around her had become invisible, her pounding heart and the mix of emotions she felt were enough to occupy her entirely. She didn't know what Brandon's intention was, but he had awakened a feeling within her that she had never known and was likely unaware of before. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she realized her greatest fortune was that Brandon had risen to his feet to give orders. Stella, however, clutched her wildly beating heart and swallowed hard; it was too early for everything, perhaps, but as she realized that she was beginning to trust Brandon, she also realized she had sealed her own fate. Even though her short journey to Nyxoria might be her last, she knew that the greatest disappointment she could face wouldn't be death, but the moment she would fall from the eyes of the first person who had ever valued her.