Chapter 14: Hot Chocolate

She woke up shivering. The cold bit into her, slowly dragging her out of sleep. Her mind still drifted between two worlds. The Otherworld… she had left it, hadn’t she?

Reality hit her all at once.

She was naked, in a bathtub, being jostled around, water splashing onto the tiled floor. Charming wake-up call.

"Blanche! Blanche!"

"Yes! Yes! " she answered groggily.

Her head throbbed. Her whole body ached, protesting with every breath. Then she froze.

A man’s voice? Here? In Eva’s bathroom?

And the only man around… was him.

Oh no.

She groaned, resigned to her fate, and slowly opened her eyes. His face was just inches from hers. His hands, large and firm, framed her head. He was staring at her, worried, brows furrowed.

Damn… why did he have to be even more attractive up close?

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, vibrating.

She shivered again. And yet, the water was warm.

" I reheated the bath, he explained, gently letting go. You were freezing. Eva fell asleep, you weren’t responding. I… took the liberty of coming in."

Shame flooded her instantly. The foam had long since disappeared, and the clear water barely covered her waist now. Reflexively, she crossed her arms over her chest, cheeks burning. Too late—he had obviously seen everything.

Kiyan straightened immediately, looking away. He grabbed a pink bathrobe and held it out to her, his head turned aside.

Blanche tried to stand with dignity—tried being the key word. Her injured foot made her wince, and off-balance, she slipped back into the tub, splashing water everywhere again. The heat reopened the wound, sending a sharp pain shooting up her leg.

He rushed forward instantly. His clothes soaked as he caught her, pulling her against him. His warm torso against her bare skin, the wet fabric between them… She stiffened, unable to breathe, torn between embarrassment and a feeling she’d rather ignore.

Without a word, he lifted her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing, and set her gently on the soft bath mat. The contact of his arms sent another shiver through her. Kiyan wrapped her in the robe, carefully avoiding her gaze. But as he closed it, his hand accidentally brushed her backside.

A pause. A suspended heartbeat.

Then he tightened the fabric—just a little too quickly.

"Thank you, " she murmured, sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to compose herself.

" You’re welcome," he replied, his voice rougher than usual.

She lowered her head to hide her fluster, her wet hair falling over the fabric. He knelt in front of her, taking her foot in his hands.

"Hey! she protested, startled."

" Don’t move."

His tone had turned firm. He murmured a few magical words, and a soft light appeared. Supplies materialized out of nowhere, tending to her wound with almost tender precision. She let him, fascinated. His fingers were steady, skilled—but every touch sent a tremor through her.

She dared to look at him. His brown, slightly curly hair was damp. His white shirt clung to his caramel skin, almost transparent, revealing the quiet strength of his torso. His rolled-up sleeves showed strong, veined, tanned forearms.

A shiver ran through her.

And he didn’t even notice.

"Want some hot chocolate? " he finally asked, standing up.

She nodded, unable to speak. Not for the chocolate. For the silence. For the chance to breathe.

He held out his hand. She took it, trembling, and let him guide her out of the bathroom. The cool air of the hallway made her shiver again.

The dim light of the bedroom bathed Eva, asleep. Blanche smiled softly, then met Kiyan’s gaze. He wasn’t looking at his daughter.

He was looking at her.

Intensely.

Too close. Too much.

She turned her head, flustered, and moved away along the wall. He followed without a word, and when she stumbled on the last step, he caught her again. This time, he didn’t just steady her—he lifted her, one arm under her legs, the other around her waist.

She stifled a gasp. Her heart pounded wildly. Her arms around his neck, she caught his scent—wood, soap, masculine warmth. Irresistible.

At the counter, he set her gently on a stool. Then, without a word, he moved behind it. His gestures were precise, methodical—but the tension in his jaw betrayed something deeper.

He tied his brown curls into a high bun, then slowly unbuttoned his soaked shirt.

She forgot how to breathe.

His muscles shifted beneath his skin—controlled, powerful. He glanced up at her, a suspended moment, before conjuring a black T-shirt and pulling it on.

Blanche, cheeks burning, grabbed a brush to distract herself. She tried to detangle her long hair, groaning at every knot.

Damn orcs…

Kiyan smiled faintly, never taking his eyes off her. He prepared two mugs, adding cocoa exactly the way she liked it. Her throat tightened. How could he remember that?

She took a sip and sighed, the sweet warmth soothing her still-shaking body. That’s when he stepped behind her. Gently, he took the brush from her hands and continued where she left off.

His fingers slid through her hair—patient, delicate.

Blanche closed her eyes. His movements were so precise, so gentle, they sent shivers all the way to her stomach.

When he finished, he let the braid fall down her back, his fingertips brushing her neck.

"Are you going to tell me why I had to wake you? And… when did you get hurt?"

His voice, sharper now, caught her off guard.

Anger? Concern? Probably both.

She wanted to tell him everything. But the fear of involving Elsa stopped her. She bit her lip, searching for words. His gaze immediately dropped to her mouth.

The silence thickened.

The air felt charged.

"Well? " he pressed, his voice slightly hoarse.

She looked away, blushing, downed the rest of her chocolate in one go, and stood up. But before she reached the sink, his hand caught hers. Warm. Firm. Irresistible.

He turned her to face him. His other hand rested under her chin, lifting her face gently. Their breaths mingled. His thumb brushed her lips, wiping away a trace of milk with deliberate slowness.

"When you’re ready, " he murmured. "I’ll be here."

He let go immediately, as if he had just crossed an invisible line. The robe slipped slightly off her shoulder. She quickly pulled it closed, her heart in chaos.

"Good night, Blanche."

She turned, trembling.

"Good night… Mr. Ardachir."

Then she slipped away, making her way upstairs as best she could.

Once in the bathroom, she leaned against the door, heart racing. A nervous laugh escaped her, quickly replaced by silent sobs.

"Rest… " she whispered between hiccups.

Her body glowed with a green aura. The pain faded. Her wounds closed. Her skin returned to normal.

But her heart… remained shattered.

Why did she have to fall in love with the one man she could never have?

In her pajamas, she returned to Eva’s bed. Her best friend, still asleep, pulled her close, offering a comforting embrace.

Blanche closed her eyes, overwhelmed by exhaustion and sorrow.

And when she opened them again, she was already back in the Otherworld.

At least there… she could forget.