Chapter 15

Unspoken Words

The corridors felt colder that night, even though the summer breeze whispered through the open windows of the estate. Blythe pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, but it did little to quiet the chill deep inside her.

Xavier hadn't returned to the estate since the incident in the woods. He had melted into the trees like a ghost, and with every hour passed, Blythe's worry gnawed deeper into her bones.

Was he hiding because of her?

Because of what almost happened between them?

Her heart twisted painfully.

She paused by a tall, arched window overlooking the courtyard. Lanterns bobbed below like tiny golden stars, guards' laughter drifting up on the night air. Everything seemed normal. Untouched. Unaware.

But inside her, nothing was normal anymore.

Nothing would ever be normal again.

Soft footsteps echoed behind her.

Blythe didn't have to turn. She knew who it was before he even spoke.

"My Lady," Xavier said, his voice low, cautious.

Relief crashed through her, so strong she had to grip the windowsill for balance.

She turned slowly, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.

Xavier stood in the moonlight, his hair mussed, a fresh bandage wrapping his forearm. His clothes were rumpled, stained from the forest, and his eyes... Goddess, his eyes.

Dark. Haunted. Burning.

Blythe opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat.

Instead, she looked at the boy who had risked everything for her and prayed he could hear the thousand unspoken apologies pounding inside her chest.

"I... I'm sorry," she managed finally, voice breaking.

Xavier shook his head quickly. "No. Never apologize to me, My Lady."

She stepped toward him, then stopped, the invisible line between them pulsing like a living thing.

"Xavier," she whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

He stiffened. "Doing what, My Lady?"

"This," she breathed, motioning helplessly between them. "Throwing yourself into danger. Avoiding me. Acting like... like you don't feel it too."

The words tumbled out before she could stop them, reckless and raw.

Xavier's jaw flexed.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, in a voice rough with restraint, he murmured, "Because it's dangerous. Because you are Luna. And I... I am nothing."

Her chest cracked open.

"Don't say that," she whispered fiercely. "Don't you ever say that"?

She took another step toward him, so close now that she could see the trembling in his hands and the tension locking his shoulders.

"I see you," she said, her voice trembling. "I see your strength. Your loyalty. Your soul."

Xavier's throat bobbed.

"You don't understand," he said hoarsely. "If anyone finds out—"

"I know," she cut him off, her voice steady now. "But I don't care."

He stared at her like she was a storm come to destroy him. And maybe she was.

Maybe they were each other's ruin.

But right now, she didn't care.

Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and brushed her fingertips against the bandage on his arm.

He flinched but didn't pull away.

Instead, he leaned into her touch — barely, just a fraction — but it was enough.

Enough to set her soul ablaze.

"You're hurt," she whispered.

"I heal fast," he rasped.

Blythe smiled faintly through the ache in her chest.

"I don't," she said. "Not from this."

He blinked, confused.

"This," she said, gesturing to the distance, the silence, the wall he kept throwing up between them.

"I don't heal from being kept away from you."

Xavier sucked in a sharp breath.

"My Lady..." His voice broke. "If I give in... there's no going back."

Blythe searched his tormented gaze.

"Then don't go back," she whispered.

The space between them crackled, charged and alive.

Xavier took one hesitant step forward. Then another.

Until there was no space left.

No air.

No resistance.

His hand lifted — slowly, reverently — and cupped her cheek.

Blythe closed her eyes, a tear sliding free.

She leaned into his palm, savouring the feel of him, the heat, the trembling tenderness.

When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her like she was both his salvation and his damnation.

And then, finally, finally—

He kissed her.

It wasn't a collision, a desperate claim.

It was a slow surrender.

A soft, tentative brush of lips that spoke of wonder and fear and a hunger too big to name.

Blythe melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt, clinging as if she could anchor herself to this moment, to this boy who had become her entire world.

The kiss deepened, grew, and became something wild and consuming.

All the fear, the longing, and the forbidden dreams poured into that kiss until the world around them ceased to exist.

There was only Xavier's mouth on hers, Xavier's hands on her waist, Xavier's soul entwining with hers in ways words could never capture.

A loud crash shattered the moment.

They broke apart, breathless, wild-eyed.

Down the corridor, a servant had dropped a tray, silverware clattering across the stone floor.

Blythe's heart stopped.

The servant gawked at them from the shadows, mouth open in horror.

"Run," Blythe gasped, shoving Xavier toward the service stairs.

Without a word, he vanished into the darkness.

Blythe pressed herself against the cold stone wall, heart hammering so loudly she was sure the entire park could hear it.

She had never been more alive.

Or more terrified.

Because now... now there was no hiding it anymore.

Someone knew.

And in Fresh Meadows Park, secrets had a habit of bleeding.