Lyra’s back pressed against the cool crystal wall of Kaelith’s chamber as he loomed over her. The air between them felt alive, charged with something far more dangerous than simple lust. His molten gold eyes held her captive, and that strange, insistent pull in her chest flared again — warm, magnetic, and terrifyingly natural.“I won’t be your prisoner,” she said, voice steadier than she felt.Kaelith’s lips curved into a dark, pained smile. “You are not my prisoner, Lyra. You are my salvation.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw with surprising gentleness. “And perhaps… my undoing.”Before she could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the chamber.“My Lord,” a servant called urgently from beyond the doors. “Lady Isolde Veyra insists on an immediate private audience. She says it is most urgent.”Kaelith’s expression hardened. He stepped back from Lyra with visible reluctance. “Stay here,” he commanded softly. “This will not take long.”The moment he left, Lyra released a shaky b
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