Chapter 62 062

Chapter 62 062
Rayna
For a few seconds after I leaned into him, I genuinely didn’t believe it was happening. It felt like a fever dream, one in which I was hallucinating so bad that even I knew that when I eventually woke up, it would hurt when I realized none of it was real.

But it was real. I was leaning on Zero, and he hadn't said anything about it. He hadn't pushed me off him either too. Yet. That tiny voice at the back of my mind filled my head, but I pushed it aside immediately.

My body stayed tense, braced for rejection that never came. I waited for his shoulder to stiffen harder, for his arm to move, for something, anything, to remind me that I’d crossed a line I wasn’t allowed to touch.

But nothing changed. Zero stayed exactly where he was.

The realization crept in slowly, cautious and disbelieving. I was pressed against him, my temple resting against his shoulder, and he hadn’t pushed me away. The room remained quiet, heavy with that familiar silence, but this time, it wasn’t empty.

It was full. Full of everything I was still trying to wrap my head around.

We sat like that for a long time. Long enough for my breathing to even out, long enough for my muscles to loosen one by one, and surrender to the strange calm settling into my bones. Call me crazy or whatever, but at one point, I could swear that I heard Zero let out a sigh that almost sounded content.

At first, it felt almost sacred.

His shoulder was warm beneath my cheek, not the sharp, distant cold I’d always imagined him to be made of. The warmth surprised me, startled me, really, and once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop noticing it. It seeped into me, grounding and steady, like he was anchoring me without meaning to.

I leaned in a little more, and he still didn’t react.

His body was solid but not rigid, controlled but undeniably present. I could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the silence, measured and restrained, like everything else about him. There was something almost cruel about how comfortable he was like this, how easily he existed in a closeness that had my heart pounding like a trapped thing.

“I could stay here forever,” a voice whispered inside me, and so badly, I wanted it to be true.

The thought startled me with its sincerity.

I shifted just slightly, my cheek adjusting against the fabric of his shirt, and a soft sigh slipped out before I could stop it. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, didn’t tighten further.

The heat between us built quietly, not rushed, not frantic, but it was just there, simmering beneath skin and silence. It made my thoughts feel slow and hazy, like I’d stepped into a space where time didn’t behave the way it should. I wasn't one to exaggerate, but I was sure if I stayed like this for more than necessary, I would fall asleep.

Eventually, the quiet grew too loud.

“So,” I murmured, my voice low and lazy against his shoulder, “how is it possible that you look like you’re carved out of stone, but you’re actually… this?”

I shifted again, deliberately this time, pressing closer.

“Warm,” I added softly, like a child who was snuggling with her favorite toy. “Comfortable.”

Still no response.

“You know, it’s very misleading.” I smiled faintly. “Someone might think you’re all sharp edges and bad intentions.”

I tilted my head just enough to glance up at him from where I rested, though his gaze stayed forward. “Meanwhile, here you are, letting me use you as a pillow.”

Nothing. I got nothing, but I didn't let it get to me.

“I should be offended, you know.” I snorted quietly. “This ruins your whole terrifying mystique.”

“Actually.” I let the silence stretch again, then hummed thoughtfully. “I bet if our nights were always like this, I’d stop talking so much.”

That earned me nothing, but I kept going anyway.

“I mean, imagine it,” I said, eyes unfocused as images bloomed in my mind. “You’d actually talk. I’d complain. We’d argue about pointless things. I’d steal your side of the bed even though you’d pretend not to care.”

“You’d still be quiet, but not like this.” My lips curved.More… selective. That would be nice, don't you think?”

I shifted again, testing, and felt the faintest tension ripple through him, so subtle it might’ve been imagined. My heart skipped.

“See?” I whispered. “I can picture it.”

I stayed there, talking softly into the space between us, half-aware that I was speaking into the void, half-aware that something about this felt dangerously real. The warmth, the closeness, the way he hadn’t pushed me away, it all tangled together until I forgot where the game ended and something else began.

Just when I thought nothing could ruin this perfect moment, another voice pierced through the room

“Enough.” The Mistress’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “The night has come to an end.”

The words echoed, cold and final, shattering the fragile cocoon we’d built in silence. My breath caught, disappointment flaring sharp and immediate.

I straightened slowly, pulling away from Zero with reluctance that surprised me. The moment I left his side, the absence hit harder than it should have, the chill rushing in where his warmth had been.

I stood and smoothed my dress, my pulse still racing.

“Well,” I muttered, glancing back at him, “guess that’s my cue.”

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked at me. But somehow, the space between us felt charged now, like something unfinished lingered in the air.

“Goodnight, Zero,” I said softly.

As I turned toward the door, one thought burned hot and insistent in my chest, the Mistress hadn’t just ended the night, she’d cut something short, and I just couldn't shake off the feeling that there was a reason she'd done that.

Did she not want me and Zero bonding at all?

If she didn't, then I just might have gotten myself into more trouble than I originally thought was possible.