Xylon didn't move at first.
Her lips had barely left his cheek when his eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in something far more unreadable. Calculating. Quiet. Dangerous.
The kind of silence that felt louder than any shout.
Eva's breath trembled in her throat, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her entire body burning with the shame of what she had just done.
Xylon's gaze lingered on her face, studying her like he was trying to decipher what had just happened—what she was trying to say.
But he was too hard to read, too sharp. She felt like she was drowning under the pressure of his stillness.
Then, slowly, too slowly, he leaned in again, his voice low and smooth near her ear. "What was that, Eva?"
She flinched, her breath catching again. Her mind screamed for her to look away, to hide her face, to pretend like it never happened.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
