When Looks Could Kill.

Winter’s POV:

The door opens quietly.

It is such a small sound, almost nothing, yet my entire body reacts as if something loud has crashed into the room. My fingers tighten around Derrick’s arm before I even realize what I am doing, my pulse leaping violently.

For a brief second, my mind refuses to catch up.

Then I see him.

Keon.

I smell his beautiful oud scent.

He stands at the doorway, completely still, his presence filling the space in a way that makes the air feel suddenly heavier. His broad chest is bare, littered with several scars probably from wars and injures that never healed properly. His eyes move once, slowly, taking everything in with unsettling precision.

Me.

Derrick.

Me and Derrick.

How we sit together, and how close we are.

I realize how bad this must look from his angle.

It looks like Derrick is playing with my breasts.

The warmth that had settled between us only moments ago vanishes instantly, replaced by something sharp and uncomfortable. Awareness rushes through me in a wave so sudden that heat floods my face.

I pull away from Derrick at once.

Too quickly.

It makes me look guilty.

I may not be guilty of anything, but I certainly feel guilty, like I'm a kid who got caught stealing a cookie.

My movements are clumsy, fingers fumbling against the loosened fabric of my dress as I shift against the pillows. My heart pounds for reasons I cannot fully explain. Nothing inappropriate had happened. Nothing wrong. Yet the way Keon is looking at us makes it feel as though we have been caught doing something we should not have been doing.

No one speaks.

The silence stretches, tense and almost unnatural.

Keon’s gaze remains fixed, his expression unreadable for a fraction of a second before something harder settles into place.

“What is going on here?”

His voice is calm.

But not truly calm.

There is an edge beneath it, something tightly restrained that makes my stomach tighten. Derrick, however, does not appear the least bit unsettled. He does not move away from the bed. He does not even look surprised.

He simply exhales.

“Relax.”

Keon’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Relax?”

Derrick finally turns his head toward him, his posture lazy, almost bored. “Yes. You should try it.”

The shift is immediate.

The air between them tightens so quickly that I feel it physically, like pressure building inside the room. Keon steps forward, slow and deliberate, his gaze flicking briefly to the back of my dress before returning to Derrick.

That small glance makes my chest tense.

“She just woke up,” Keon says.

Each word is measured.

Carefully controlled.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Derrick straightens at last, though there is no guilt or hesitation in the movement. Only mild irritation.

“She is my mate.”

The words land heavily in the space between them.

“And I was checking for bruises.”

Keon’s jaw tightens.

“The doctor already healed her injuries.”

Derrick’s expression does not change. “Healed what he could see.”

Keon’s stare sharpens. “Which would include bruises, which the doctor already healed.”

“Not always.”

The reply is smooth, but something about it feels deliberate, as though Derrick is choosing his words with unusual care. Keon notices it too. I can see it in the way his gaze hardens, the way his shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly.

For a moment, neither of them speaks.

Then Keon asks quietly, “Why was I not informed that she woke up?”

The question shifts the atmosphere again.

Derrick’s eyes flicker with clear annoyance. “Because she woke up moments ago.”

“Moments ago,” Keon repeats.

“Yes.”

“And you did not think that was important to mention? Not worth even mindlinking me? Really Derrick? First you do it after the Vampire issue and you're at it again.”

Derrick lets out a breath, his patience visibly thinning.

“Will you listen to yourself?”

“I am listening very carefully.”

Something about the way Keon says it sends a strange unease crawling through my chest. This no longer feels like concern. It feels like accusation wrapped in politeness, tension disguised as conversation.

Derrick crosses his arms.

“You are overreacting.”

Keon’s gaze never wavers. “Am I?”

Neither of them looks away.

Neither of them yields.

I sit there, caught between them, my pulse rising with every passing second. The room feels smaller now, tighter, the weight of their unspoken conflict pressing down on me in ways I do not understand.

I push myself slightly upright.

“Keon, I…”

Both heads turn toward me instantly.

The intensity of their attention makes my words falter. I suddenly feel as though I have stepped into something far larger than I intended.

“I did not mean to cause any tension,” I say softly, my voice uncertain. “Derrick was only making sure I was alright.”

Keon’s gaze softens for the briefest moment as it rests on me, though the tension does not leave him.

“That is not the point.”

Derrick’s irritation flares. “Then what exactly is the point?”

Keon does not answer immediately.

Instead, his eyes move once more to Derrick, studying him with an intensity that feels unsettling. There is something different in his expression now, something thoughtful yet uneasy, as if a thought has lodged itself in his mind and refuses to leave.

Before the silence can grow heavier, voices suddenly erupt from the hallway.

Loud and sharp.

“You cannot enter!”

“Watch me.”

The sound slices through the tension like a blade.

All three of us turn toward the door.

Footsteps echo rapidly, the argument escalating with every passing second.

“I said you cannot go in there!”

“Move out of my way!”

My heart lurches violently.

That voice.

No.

It cannot be.

I feel the recognition before my mind fully forms it, my pulse racing as I stare at the entrance.

“Is that…” My voice barely emerges.

The shouting grows closer, anger vibrating through the corridor. Keon’s expression darkens with irritation.

Derrick’s posture stiffens slightly.

Then the door bursts open.

A guard steps inside, visibly strained, his composure shaken.

“My lords, forgive the interruption, but…”

He hesitates, glancing toward me.

And in that instant, I already know.

“Her sister is here.”

Everything inside me stops.

My breath.

My thoughts.

Even my heartbeat seems to freeze for one suspended second.

Ariana is here.