Chapter 96 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 1

Chapter 96 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 1
As I walked deeper into the woods, my basket hung loosely in the crook of my arm, already filled with bundles of herbs. The night air was crisp and cool, brushing over my skin in soft waves that made me shiver a little, though not from the cold. There was something about being out here at night that always felt different—like the forest was alive in a way it wasn’t during the day. Every tree seemed taller, every shadow stretched longer, and every sound felt sharper in my ears.
The moon was full tonight, its pale glow spilling down like silver milk, coating the leaves and grass in a faint shimmer. I stopped for a moment, just to admire it. The way the light danced on the stream nearby, the way it painted the bark of the trees, even the way it seemed to make my own skin glow faintly—it all looked unreal, like I had stepped into a dream.
I bent down to pick a clump of feverfew, my fingers brushing across the tiny white petals before tugging them free. The familiar scent filled my nose, earthy and sharp. I slipped them carefully into my basket, arranging them alongside the other herbs I had gathered. This was supposed to be a quick trip, nothing more than restocking what I needed for the next week of potion-making.
But then, the air changed.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. The woods were never completely still—there was always the hum of crickets, the soft flutter of bats overhead, the croak of frogs by the stream. But suddenly, all of it stopped. The silence pressed down on me so hard it made my ears ring. Even the leaves had gone still, like the trees themselves were holding their breath.
A cold shiver raced down my spine. My aunt’s warnings came rushing back, her voice echoing in my head. Don’t go to the woods at night. Not alone. They’ll find you if you do.
My first instinct was to run. Drop the basket, forget the herbs, and sprint back toward the safety of our little cottage. But my legs didn’t move. My heart beat so hard it felt like it might break through my chest, but something rooted me to the ground. Some strange pull, curiosity mixed with fear, kept me there.
Slowly, I crouched down and slipped behind a thick bush, its leaves prickling against my arms as I pushed into it. My breath came fast and shallow, and I had to press a hand over my mouth to quiet the sound. The twigs snapped softly under me, and I froze, praying nothing out there had heard.
The stream lay just a short distance away, glowing like melted silver under the moon. I kept my eyes fixed on it, every nerve in my body tight with waiting.
And then I heard it.
A sound unlike anything I’d ever heard before.
The heavy whump of wings beating the air. Not like the flutter of a bird or the delicate rustle of an owl—it was deeper, louder, each flap echoing in my chest as if it was shaking the very air around me. My skin prickled, my body frozen in place as I listened to it grow louder and louder.
Then I saw him.
At first, it was only a dark shadow in the sky, wings spread wide, gliding down through the pale glow of the moon. He moved slowly, almost gracefully, like a shadow drifting down from the heavens. My breath caught in my throat and stayed there as his figure grew clearer with every passing second.
He landed at the edge of the stream, his boots making barely a sound on the grass. The ground almost seemed to bend to him, as though the earth itself recognized what he was. Broad shoulders, a tall, commanding figure, and wings so massive they seemed to swallow up the light before folding tight against his back.
One look was enough—I knew he wasn’t human.
His wings shimmered like obsidian glass, each feather sharp and perfect, outlined by silver from the moonlight. Even when they folded, they looked too big, too powerful to belong to something that looked like a man. His profile was sharp, his jaw strong, his pointed ears betraying his kind instantly.
The fae, my mind whispered, even as my aunt’s warnings rang in my ears. Beautiful. Dangerous. Once they lure you in, you can never escape.
And then, as if to prove her words right, the wings vanished. Just gone, like smoke dissolving into the air.
He turned, and my breath stopped.
His face was… beautiful. That word felt too small, too weak. His beauty was sharp, almost violent, like looking at sunlight until it burned your eyes. His long hair tumbled down over his shoulders, white as snow, glowing faintly as if the moonlight belonged to him. His eyes, golden and strange, glowed softly in the dark, like molten light staring out of him. I couldn’t look away even though I knew I should.
He was dressed in black leathers, each piece hugging him tightly, showing the hard lines of his body. Weapons were strapped all over him—blades gleaming faintly, daggers hidden in belts, every inch of him prepared for war. And then, slowly, deliberately, he began removing them.
One blade. Then another. His hands moved unhurried, like he was performing some kind of ritual. I stayed frozen, not daring to move, as he stripped himself of every weapon and laid them carefully on the grass.
When the last dagger hit the earth, his hands went to his shirt. My pulse skipped, then raced faster, panic and curiosity twisting together until I could barely breathe.
The leather peeled away from his skin, and my eyes widened as his chest came into view.
He was… breathtaking.
Broad shoulders led to a wide chest, muscles carved into hard planes and deep ridges that shifted every time he moved. His skin was smooth, a pale golden shade, almost glowing faintly under the light. Every line of him spoke of strength—his chest solid, his pecs firm and full, the curve of them rising with each breath he took. His stomach was flat and hard, sculpted with muscle, each line of his abs deep enough to catch shadows.
But it wasn’t just the muscle that caught my eyes.
It was the markings.