The night was heavy with the smell of ashes.
A broken moonlight seeped through the shattered roof, illuminating the ruined hall in fragments of silver and smoke. The battle had ended hours ago, but its echoes lingered—whispers in the cracks, shadows in the silence.
Arjun sat on the cold stone floor, his body still trembling from exhaustion. His wrist throbbed, the faint glow of the mark pulsing like an uninvited heartbeat. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, though the silence outside told him there was no enemy left.
Yet, danger had not left.
It stood across from him.
The stranger.
His body leaned casually against the broken pillar, but his golden eyes never left Arjun. They glowed faintly, like embers refusing to die, watching him, studying him, burning through him. His torn clothes clung to his skin, streaked with soot and blood, but none of it dimmed the unearthly magnetism he carried.
Arjun looked away quickly, pressing a hand against his racing chest. Why does it feel like the real battle hasn't even started yet?
"You're too stubborn," the stranger said finally, his voice smooth and low. It was not the command of a warrior now, but something softer, more dangerous. "Even when you're broken, you pretend you're not."
"I'm fine," Arjun muttered, though the word shook in his throat.
The stranger pushed off the pillar and walked toward him, each step slow, deliberate, like a predator approaching prey. Arjun's breath quickened, and yet he didn't move. Couldn't.
"Fine?" The man knelt in front of him, so close their knees brushed. His hand lifted, fingers grazing Arjun's jaw. The heat of his touch was enough to melt through every wall Arjun had built. "Your body is trembling, your mark is burning… and your lips—" his thumb traced lightly across them, making Arjun flinch— "they're begging to be kissed."
Arjun's heart slammed so violently against his ribs it hurt. He shoved the hand away, his voice breaking:
"Stop saying things like that!"
But the man only leaned closer, until his breath mingled with Arjun's. His smile was dangerous, yes—but his eyes… his eyes held something raw. "Then stop wanting me to."
The words stabbed straight through Arjun's denial. His lips parted, breath shuddering. Every fiber of his body screamed yes while his mind still whispered no.
"You're my enemy," Arjun whispered, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.
The stranger's hand returned, firmer now, cupping Arjun's jaw and tilting it upward. "I told you once… call me your enemy, your damnation, your fire. But don't pretend I am nothing to you."
The world outside the ruined hall ceased to exist. There was only the heat of his hand, the burn of his eyes, the fire that raced under Arjun's skin.
And then it happened.
The stranger leaned in, closing the fragile inch of distance. His lips pressed against Arjun's—soft at first, teasing, tasting. The heat exploded instantly, the mark on his wrist flaring like a wildfire. Arjun gasped against his mouth, but instead of pulling back, his hands shot forward, gripping the man's shoulders, dragging him closer.
The kiss deepened, slow turning hungry. The stranger's lips claimed his with an intensity that left no room for air, no room for thought. His tongue brushed against Arjun's, and a shiver tore down his spine.
The world tilted. The ruins, the ashes, the pain—it all vanished in the fire of that kiss.
When the man finally pulled back, Arjun was gasping, trembling, his forehead pressed against the stranger's.
"You see?" the man whispered, voice hoarse, vulnerable. "You can lie with your words… but your body never lies to me."
Arjun squeezed his eyes shut, shame and longing tearing through him at once. "I… I don't want this…"
The stranger chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across Arjun's cheek, tender despite the heat in his touch. "Then why do you look at me like I'm the only thing keeping you alive?"
Arjun froze. His breath caught, because it was true.
Silence fell again. Heavy. Dangerous. Beautiful.
The stranger stood slowly, then extended a hand. His golden eyes softened, just slightly, as though some secret pain flickered there. "Stand with me, Arjun. Even if you hate me… don't turn away."
Arjun stared at the offered hand, his chest aching, his lips still burning. He wanted to refuse, to walk away, to erase the kiss still lingering on his skin.
But his hand rose. Against his will, against his pride, it rose—and slid into the stranger's.
The fire surged again, binding them, sealing what words could never admit.
And Arjun knew, with terrifying certainty: this was only the first burn....
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