CHAPTER 69: ONE. ONLY. BED.

The inn’s hallway was narrow and creaked beneath their footsteps. The innkeeper, lantern in hand, opened the door to a room at the back, wishing them goodnight before leaving.

The door closed with a soft click, muffling the noise of the village outside.

The room wasn’t large. Plain wooden walls, a small fireplace crackling in the corner, and a worn rug spread across the floor. But what immediately caught Ester’s attention was the center of the room: a wide single bed covered in thick furs.

For a moment, her chest tightened. A part of her—no matter how small, no matter how foolish—still believed there would be two beds. It would be enough for them to sleep peacefully, each on their own side, without any problems. But no... there was the cruel confirmation. One. Only. Bed.

She stood in the doorway, as if the floor had turned to brittle ice beneath her feet.

Damon entered first, leaving his spear leaning against the wall and his cloak draped over a chair. He looked at ease, as if the situation were nothing unusual.

"Hm." He threw himself on the edge of the bed, pressing his palm against the mattress. "Look... it’s really soft. Better than sleeping in the snow, isn’t it?"

His smile was lazy, almost mischievous.

Ester didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the bed, as if it were a battlefield she didn’t want to step onto. Her entire body was rigid, and the blush she hated so much threatened to resurface.

Damon noticed. And that only made her smile widen.

"What is it?" he asked, tilting his head mockingly. "Are you going to stay there all night?"

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone calm.

"That’s... not appropriate."

"Appropriate?" Damon laughed, a short laugh. "Since when do you worry about that kind of thing?"

She clenched her fingers against her cloak, as if she could cling to some formality that would save her.

"It’s not about me..." she began, but her voice faltered.

He then stood slowly, approaching. The smile wouldn’t fade. Damon walked toward her, and for a moment, Ester considered backing away, but her legs wouldn’t move.

When he stopped in front of her, his eyes stared at her as if reading every thought she tried to hide.

"You’re frozen," he said softly. "But not because of the cold."

Ester felt her heart race.

"Stop talking nonsense," she snapped, but the flush on her skin belied every word.

Damon didn’t answer immediately. He simply took her hand. The gesture was simple, but firm, too warm. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What do you think you’re—"

He didn’t finish. With a swift movement, he yanked her forward, throwing her off balance. Ester’s body fell against his, and before she could react, Damon pulled her onto the bed.

[Touch of Asmodeus used!]

She fell to her side, her cloak spreading across the furs of the bed, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Damon!" Her voice came out louder than intended, almost a shout, but it sounded more embarrassed than angry.

He just laughed, leaning back against the pillow, still holding her hand.

"Relax," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I won’t bite. At least... not if you don’t ask."

Ester froze even further, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly, not roughly, but with an irritating certainty that disarmed her.

"You’re insufferable," she said, but her voice wavered.

"And yet you’re here," Damon replied with a wry smile.

The silence that followed was heavy. The fireplace crackled in the background, filling the air with warmth, but to Ester the world felt too narrow, as if the entire room had shrunk around them.

She turned her face to the side, trying to compose herself, but her body remained tense, every fiber aware of his proximity.

Damon watched her silently now, less mocking, more attentive.

"You know..." he began, his voice lower, almost serious. "You live as if you were made of ice. But... when someone touches you, you break."

The words struck Ester like blades. She swallowed, not daring to look him in the eye.

"You’re wrong," she murmured weakly.

"Am I really?" Damon leaned in slightly, bringing his face closer, his warm breath a stark contrast to the chill that always emanated from her. "Then prove it to me."

She turned suddenly, staring at him with her brilliant blue eyes. But instead of answering, she was speechless.

His gaze wasn’t just mocking. There was something firm, commanding, almost... dangerous.

Ester didn’t know whether to hate it or... fear it.

Maybe both.

Her hand was still clasped in his, and the warmth of that simple touch seemed to melt something she didn’t want to admit was inside her.

"You... don’t know what you’re doing," she whispered, almost pleading.

Damon smiled again, but this time it wasn’t mocking. It was a calm, confident smile.

"I know exactly what I’m doing," he replied. "I’m showing you that you don’t need to hide behind so much ice."

Her heart raced even faster. A part of her wanted to break free, to get up, to leave. But another part... remained still, trapped not by his strength, but by the confusion building in her mind.

Ester closed her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself. When she opened them again, the blush had already spread across her face.

Damon finally released her hand, as if testing her.

"You can lie down on the floor if you want," he said, with a touch of irony. "But I’m going to enjoy this soft bed."

He lay on his side, facing the fireplace, as if the conversation were over.

Ester, however, remained sitting on the edge of the bed, motionless, her gaze lost.

Her body still trembled slightly—not from the cold, but from the memory of the touch, the closeness, the previous embrace that insisted on tormenting her.

She took a deep breath, seeking comfort.

"It’s just a bed," she thought, trying to convince herself. "Just a bed."

"I’ve used Asmodeus’s Touch on her more than six times... how long will it take... Well, let’s wait... I don’t need to do anything, she’ll give up."