Page 12 of Haunted Crowns
Stephan smiled, easy, effortless. A lie.
“Lose something, princess?”
Eris stared at him, dazed, her breath still unsteady. He was soaking wet. She looked up. An umbrella shielded her, held steady in his hand. Her stomach tightened. She looked down at her bare feet, touched the coat wrapped around her—his, not hers. And then it struck. Her breath hitched, nausea curling in her stomach.
No.
She turned toward the gathering hall, instinct screaming at her to look. But Stephan shifted before she could—a smooth pivot, blocking her view. His smirk remained, but something frantic flickered in his eyes: a distraction, a shield.
“Awful weather for a walk, don’t you think?” His voice was too light, too forced.
Something inside her pulled taut. Her lips parted.
“I don’t remember being with you…” She swallowed hard. “Why are we here?”
The smirk faded. His warm hand found her shoulder, steady.
“Eris,” he paused, careful, like stepping over thin ice, “just trust me. Let’s go inside.”
Her gaze searched his, and then she saw it—not just concern, but control. The way his grip had tightened slightly, the way his stance was too careful, like a shield, like he didn’t want her to turn around.
Her body moved before her mind caught up. She turned. He didn’t stop her this time. He only closed his eyes, bracing. Then her breath vanished. A sea of laughing faces crowded behind the windows, recording.
Oh, gods.
Eris staggered back. Her hands flew to her face as the air collapsed around her, her skin burning. Her voice cracked.
“Why?” She drew in a shaky breath. “Why does it always have to be like this?”
Why couldn’t she just be normal?
Stephan’s fingers flexed. She was breaking, right in front of him, and something inside him snapped. He wrapped his arm around her.
“Let’s go.”
There was no hesitation. He stepped forward, a shield between her and the world, as he had always been, as he would always be.
Without another word, he pulled her inside. The door creaked as it swung open, and he led her through the dim corridors to a secluded chamber. The heavy wooden door groaned shut behind them. Stephan’s grip remained firm but careful as he guided her to the fireplace.
Flames crackled, casting flickering gold against the damp stone walls. Heat pulsed against their rain-soaked skin, thick with the scent of fire and wet earth.
Eris barely moved. Her arms locked around herself, her breath uneven, barely holding together.
Without a word, Stephan gripped the hem of his shirt and dragged it over his head. The soaked fabric hit the floor with a wet slap. He hung it by the fire, water tracking the carved lines of his back.
Eris’s breath caught. She looked away—too late. Firelight kissed sculpted muscle, rain-slick skin, the hard lines of a body forged for war. Her mouth went dry. She hugged the coat tighter,pretending the warmth in her chest came from the fire. It didn’t. It curled low, dark. Insistent.
Gods. He’s gorgeous…and so fucking half-naked.
Her gaze slipped back, unbidden and slow, tracing the shift of his shoulders, the gleam of water trailing his chest like a sin. His voice cut through the silence, low and rough.
“Your coat.”
She stiffened. Stephan didn’t miss the hesitation.
“It’s drenched, Eris. You’ll freeze.”
Still, she didn’t move. He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair.
