CHAPTER 371: A PRISON MADE OF FIRELIGHT

[IRAYA]

That honesty caught me off guard more than anything else tonight.

Lyander could be flippant. He could tease. He could be infuriating. But this? This was dangerous. This was real.

"We’re going to regret this," I whispered, my voice almost shaking.

"Maybe," he said. "But I don’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what it would have felt like."

His fingers brushed my cheek. "Now I know."

I swallowed hard, trying to find something snarky to say, anything to break the tension. But all I could do was look at him.

His gaze searched mine like he was memorizing me. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm, strong and steady beneath the layers of soft fabric. Mine was wild. Unruly.

I should’ve moved. I should’ve pulled away the moment our lips collided. But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

My mind blanked, drowned by the heat of his kiss, and my body betrayed everything I ever told myself about resisting him.

The moment his mouth claimed mine, it was like the snow outside didn’t exist. There was no winter. No isolation. Only heat.

Only him.

Lyander kissed me like he was starving. As if he’d waited for this—not just for days, but for years. His mouth moved against mine with a purpose I couldn’t comprehend, and when I gasped in shock, he took the opportunity to deepen it.

I felt his hand on my waist, guiding me, and the next thing I knew—I was no longer standing. I was on his lap, straddling him, knees sinking into the plush cushion of the armchair, my hands clutching his shoulders as though I’d fall apart if I let go.

His other hand slid up my back, anchoring me. I could feel the tension in him—every restrained breath, every tightened muscle.

And still, he held me like something precious. As if, despite the kiss being desperate, he was terrified of breaking me.

When our lips finally parted, we were both breathless. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my chest heaved, and I didn’t know whether to run or pull him closer.

Lyander looked up at me, his face half-lit by the fireplace glow. "Say something," he murmured, voice gravelly.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My brain, usually so sharp and full of quips, was completely empty.

"Iraya," he said again, brushing my cheek with his thumb. "Do you want me to stop?"

I blinked, dazed. My voice cracked. "You already kissed me. Isn’t that a little late for that question?"

He smiled faintly. "I can still stop."

I wanted to say yes.

I wanted to say no.

Instead, I whispered the stupidest thing I could’ve possibly said. "I thought you were asleep."

His brow arched. "So that’s why you called me handsome and said I should stay asleep forever?"

Mortification hit me like a snowball to the face. "You heard that?!"

"I was trying very hard not to laugh."

"Ugh, I hate you."

"You say that," he murmured, his hands still on my hips, "but you’re still on my lap."

I scrambled to move, but he held me in place. Not roughly—just firmly enough to keep me still.

"Wait," he said. "Don’t run yet."

I didn’t run.

But I did look away, unable to meet his eyes. "This . . . doesn’t mean anything. It’s the fireplace, and the snow, and . . . insomnia."

"Of course," he said softly. "It’s just the ambiance." He smiled a little, and then his voice lowered. "But it meant something to me."

That undid me more than the kiss.

Because it wasn’t just a line. It wasn’t a tease.

It was the truth.

And I didn’t know what to do with that.

We sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the distant whisper of wind against the windows.

My hands had fallen to his chest, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heart under my palms.

"Iraya," he said quietly. "I didn’t bring you here to trap you. I brought you here because I knew if we were anywhere else, you’d never let your walls down. Not even a crack."

He was right. And that made me want to hate him more.

Instead, I leaned my forehead against his. "You’re impossible."

"I know."

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me gently against him. And for once, I didn’t resist as he claimed my lips again.

As his lips claimed mine, I felt my resolve crumble like the snowflakes outside. The warmth of his chest seeped into me, melting the cold-hardened shell around my heart.

His words still lingered in my mind - "it meant something to me" - and for some reason, they cut deeper than any knife.

"I didn’t bring you here to trap you," he whispered against my ear as his hands roamed over my curves.

The world outside receded into the background - leaving only us two lost souls adrift in this sea of passion and desire . . .

We rode out the storm together — waves of heat crashing over us like winter’s fury breaking on a frozen shore.

His arms were wrapped around me tightly, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing at all. My legs instinctively curled around his waist, holding on as the world spun and blurred behind us.

Every movement felt like fire meeting frost, melting the distance that once existed between us.

"This," he murmured into my ear, his voice rough and reverent, "this is what I’ve been waiting for . . ."

He carried me across the room, the crackling fire casting gold and shadow across our skin.

Outside, the wind howled like something untamed — but in here, we had created a different storm, one that neither of us wanted to end.

He laid me down gently, but his kiss was anything but soft. It was hungry, raw, and deep — like he’d been holding back for too long and could no longer resist.

Our mouths clashed, tongues tangled, and everywhere he touched, he left a trail of aching heat.