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The corridors of the Gremory estate had fallen into stillness. The only sounds were the distant ticking of a clock and the sigh of the wind through the gardens. Rias led Kaelthar toward her chambers, her steps slow, her fingers brushing against the wall as if tracing the rhythm of her racing heart.
When she pushed open the door, a wash of moonlight spilled across the polished floor and the heavy red curtains. The air smelled faintly of roses and candle wax. Somewhere beyond the balcony, a nightbird called once and went silent.
Rias hesitated, then turned. "You don't have to stay," she said quietly, though her eyes betrayed the hope in her voice.
Kaelthar stepped inside after her, closing the door with a soft click. "If I leave now," he said, "I'll only come back."
For a moment, neither spoke. The light caught in her hair, turning each strand into liquid fire. Kaelthar reached out, letting his fingertips trail along one crimson lock until they brushed her cheek. The warmth of his hand made her shiver.
"You make it hard to breathe," she whispered.
His answer came low and steady. "Then breathe with me."
He drew her closer until the distance between them disappeared. Her hands found his shoulders; his found the small of her back. The tension that had been building since dinner finally broke, melting into the quiet hum of magic that always lingered around her. Their lips met—slowly at first, a question more than a demand. Then the question turned to certainty.
The kiss deepened, tasting of heat and defiance and the promise of something that neither could name. When they broke apart, Rias leaned her forehead against his, her breath uneven.
"I don't know what this is," she murmured, "but I don't want it to stop."
"It doesn't have to," he replied.
She laughed softly, a sound half-caught between joy and disbelief. "You make everything sound so simple."
"It is," he said. "When you stop thinking about tomorrow."
He brushed his thumb along her jaw, tracing the line of her pulse. Rias felt her heart stumble. She tilted her head, meeting his eyes—gold and steady and impossibly kind. The walls she had learned to keep up around everyone else simply weren't there with him.
The candles flickered as a draft slipped through the balcony doors. Kaelthar moved to close them, but Rias caught his wrist. "Leave it," she said. "I want the moon to see."
He smiled at that—a quiet, almost reverent smile—and gathered her into his arms again. The world shrank to the sound of their breathing, the faint crackle of wicks, the scent of roses and rain. Every small touch felt amplified: her fingers tightening against his back, the warmth of his breath against her temple, the way her name sounded when he whispered it.
"Rias," he said softly. "You don't have to be strong tonight."
Her reply was barely a breath. "Then hold me."
He did.
The moon climbed higher, its light spilling across them in silver and crimson. The wind rustled through the curtains, carrying away the last traces of the day. When the candles finally guttered out, only the glow of magic remained—a gentle shimmer that wrapped around them like a vow.
Outside, the estate slept on, unaware of the quiet storm that had found its peace behind the closed door.
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