The rain was still falling when the car I was in entered the driveway of the grand house—the house I had only ever seen through photos proudly displayed by my older sister. "Warm," she said. "Luxurious but simple," she said.
"The place where my life finally became stable," Evelyn had told me once over the phone.
I never fully believed her. A house this big could never truly mean "simple." Especially when the owner was Alaric Devano—a name that sounded heavy long before I saw the man himself.
I stepped out of the car, clutching my coat tightly. The cold air touched my skin, and the outdoor lights lit up the dark sky like a theater about to raise its curtains.
"Anna!"
That voice belonged to Evelyn. My sister ran toward me, embracing me as if I had just returned from a war.
"Oh my God, you look exhausted. Was it a long trip?"
"Quite," I replied, forcing a smile.
I had come for a simple reason: to stay temporarily until my apartment was ready. That was it. No other plans. No intentions.
But as we walked inside the house… everything I thought would be ordinary suddenly shifted. Because he was there.
Alaric Devano.
He stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, his posture straight, and his gaze… cold. Too cold for a husband welcoming his sister-in-law.
I stopped unintentionally.
Evelyn smiled brightly. "Alaric, this is Anna. You've met, right? At our wedding. This is the second time you've met in person."
Alaric didn't respond immediately. His eyes slowly dropped from my face, scanning my wet coat, then rose again. His movement was deliberate… like someone assessing something they shouldn't be judging.
I felt my breath catch.
Finally, he said, "Welcome."
His voice was low—too low. Too calm. Somehow it made me want to step back.
"Thank you," I said, trying to sound normal.
Evelyn linked her arm with mine. "Come on, Anna. I'll show you to your room.
"Before turning, I caught it—that look. A look he shouldn't be giving me. Not a brother-in-law's glance. Not a polite man's. Not a safe one.
A dangerous look. Heavy. As if he was studying my every breath. I swallowed hard and followed Evelyn upstairs.
~~~
The room prepared for me was beautiful—too beautiful for something "temporary." The lavender scent filled the space, turning my hunger into drowsiness. After showering and changing, I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my half-damp hair.
I thought everything would be over. I would sleep, rest, and start my new life without drama. Until suddenly, there was a knock on my door.
Tap. Tap.
I froze. It wasn't unusual, but for some reason, the knocking felt… precise. Neither hurried nor hesitant. Exact. I opened it. And there he was.
Alaric.
Still in his dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled as if he'd just taken off his work jacket. He looked… inhuman. Too perfect. Too intense.
"Evelyn is asleep," he said, his voice low but not harsh. "I wanted to make sure you're comfortable."
"Oh." My voice barely audible. "I am. Thank you."
He nodded but didn't leave. I felt my heart hammering. Just the two of us. That close. In a dark hallway lit only by a faint light.
Alaric tilted his head slightly, staring at me longer than was polite.
"You look like Evelyn," he said suddenly.
I answered stiffly. "Do I?"
"But…"
His eyes dropped to my damp hair, then to the thin neckline of my pajamas. "…softer."
I forgot how to breathe. He shouldn't say that. He shouldn't look at me like that.
I took a step back. "I—I'm going to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow."
Finally, he moved aside, giving way.
But before I closed the door, he whispered almost inaudibly, "Good night, Anna."
His voice sent a strange sensation across my skin.
I quickly shut the door, leaning against it, trying to steady my breath.
I came here only to stay temporarily. Not to get caught in something I couldn't even name.
But one thing was clear. That man… shouldn't be looking at me like that. And I shouldn't care. Yet my eyes closed with the echo of Alaric's gaze lingering—dark, sharp, waiting for me to fall.
~~~
I woke earlier than expected. The sun hadn't fully risen when I went down to the kitchen, my hair tousled and my body still heavy from yesterday's long trip.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I opened the fridge, searching for something to eat. Empty. Evelyn must not have shopped yet.
I sighed, reaching for a glass. As I turned the tap to fill it with water, soft footsteps sounded behind me. Slow. Pausing a few meters away.
I froze—not out of fear, but because my body recognized who it was before I turned around. I faced him.
Alaric stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing a thin black T-shirt and lounge pants… It was the first time I'd seen him without a formal shirt.
And it was… not a good idea.
The shirt clung naturally, revealing broad shoulders, a solid chest, and arms that reminded me of power that needed no display but was undeniably there.
"Morning," he said, his voice hoarse—like someone just waking up.
I lowered my gaze slightly. "Morning."
He walked past me toward the coffee machine. Just passing. Only a few steps.
But somehow, the air between us crackled—with tension tightening the space simply by his presence.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"I just woke up early," I replied, trying to sound casual.
"Hmm."
Just a murmur, but enough to make me aware that he was listening—to my tone, my movements, my presence.
He pressed a button on the coffee machine, letting the bitter aroma fill the room. But his eyes… weren't on the machine.
They were on me. I could feel it without looking. Finally, I dared to lift my face. And sure enough—Alaric was watching me. His gaze steady but intense. Calm yet binding.
"Your hair's still messy," he said softly.
I reflexively smoothed it, my cheeks burning. He didn't smile, but his voice held something—something that made me want to step back yet stay put.
"Y-yeah… haven't had time to comb it," I answered nervously.
He stepped half a pace closer—close enough that the scent of coffee and his soap reached my nose.
"You don't have to be nervous, Anna." His tone was gentle… but dangerous. Not the kind of gentle that comforts, but the kind that melts resistance.
"I'm not nervous," I said quickly.
Alaric stared at me long, as if checking if I was lying to myself.
"Alright," he said finally. "If you say so."
I turned away, pretending to busy myself arranging glasses. But my body knew he was still watching. Judging. Remembering.
When I reached for bread on the top shelf, my fingertips barely touched the rack. I stood on tiptoes, trying to reach. Almost—then a large hand snatched the bread from above my head.
I froze. His hand was so close. So… close.
"Good intention," he said softly behind me, "but you're too short for the top shelf."
I nearly gasped—not at his words, but the proximity. I turned slowly, and our faces were just inches apart.
I saw every detail: his dark iris, long eyelashes, the intensity he made no effort to hide.
He handed me the bread. But when I reached out, he didn't immediately release it. Our fingers touched briefly. Just a moment. But enough to make me take a sharp breath.
Alaric lifted his chin slightly. "Careful."
I took the bread quickly, stepping back half a step, trying to compose myself as if nothing had happened.
But my body betrayed me, my throat dry, heart pounding, skin tingling though only our fingertips had touched.
Go away. Go away. Go away… I silently begged.
But the man did not leave.
He circled the kitchen island and sat on a tall bar stool, watching me from there.
"Is Eve still asleep?" I asked.
"Looks like it."
I nodded slowly. Then, without warning, Alaric said, "So it's just the two of us awake."
I froze. The way he said it… the way he said the two of us… as if it was a problem. As if it was a secret. As if it was something that shouldn't happen—but did anyway.
I swallowed hard.
"Um… I'm going out for a walk," I said, feigning casualness.
"Alone?" His voice dropped lower.
"Yes…"
He stared at me for a long moment. "I'll come."
"No need. I—"
"I'll come," he repeated. This time, there was no room for refusal.
And somehow… a part of me didn't want to say no.
~~~
As we walked outside, the morning air was bitter cold, but Alaric's proximity made it feel warm—or rather, burning.
We walked without much talking. The narrow path behind the house led away from the main building, flanked by tall trees that made the atmosphere feel otherworldly.
Birds. Wind. Our footsteps.
After a few minutes, he asked, "What's really behind your choice to stay here temporarily?"
His tone wasn't accusing. Not gentle either. More like… curious.
I sighed. "My new apartment isn't ready yet. That's all."
He looked ahead. "Or maybe you just want to get away from something?"
I stopped walking. "It's not like that," I said, more defensive than I realized.
Alaric turned slowly. His gaze wasn't that of a man asking trivial questions. It was like he was opening a door into my mind.
"Anna," he said softly, "you're not good at lying."
I went silent.
"Has someone hurt you?" he asked even softer.
My heart sank. "No," I answered quickly.
He didn't believe me. I could see it. And somehow that made me feel… exposed. Unsafe. And… comforted? I didn't even know.
Then he stepped closer—just enough to make me tilt my head up. "You can tell me the truth," he said gently, his gaze piercing. "I'm not your enemy."
No. He wasn't my enemy. But he wasn't a safe man, either.
I stepped back half a pace. "A-Alaric… I don't want to talk about—"
He stopped right in front of me. "Anna." His voice changed. Lower. Heavier.
"If there's something you're running from… I want to know."
As he said it, the wind seemed to stop. The air tensed. The space felt smaller, closer, forbidden.
And I knew. I knew I should back away. But his eyes… the way he looked… the way he called my name… froze me.
"Alaric…" I whispered.
The tension hung there. Fragile. Dangerous. Beautiful.
Until Evelyn's voice called from afar. "Anna? Alaric? Where are you?"
I immediately stepped back. Alaric only looked at me one second longer before turning away. And that look… was enough to stay with me all day. Enough to scare me. Enough to make me long for it.