Chapter 97 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 2

Chapter 97 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 2
Golden markings ran across his chest in glowing patterns, curling into shapes I didn’t understand. They glowed faintly under the moon, spiraling and weaving across his torso, wrapping down his sides, some crawling over his arms. They weren’t random—they looked like symbols, like some old language pressed into his very skin. They gave him a holy, terrifying aura, as though he wasn’t just fae, but something higher, something meant to be worshiped or feared.
He bent slightly to pull off his boots, and the muscles of his back flexed, smooth and powerful, each line shifting beneath his skin. His shoulders rolled like boulders under silk.
Then his fingers reached for the buckle at his waist.
My breath hitched so hard it hurt. My hands shook where I clutched the bush in front of me. My mind screamed at me to look away, to turn and run, but my body didn’t listen.
The belt came loose, and then his pants slid down, slow and deliberate. My eyes went wide, panic and shock colliding so fast my heart almost stopped. His thighs were thick, solid muscle, his legs long and strong, built like a warrior who had spent centuries in battle. Every inch of him seemed carved to perfection—his calves hard, his hips narrow, his entire body a map of strength and beauty that no human man could ever compare to.
And then…
My breath caught completely. My lungs refused to work, and for a moment I thought the air itself had been stolen from me. My face burned so hot it felt like I was sitting too close to a fire. Heat crawled down my neck, spreading across my chest and pooling in my stomach until I felt dizzy. My whole body trembled, my knees pressing harder into the damp ground as though the earth itself was the only thing holding me up.
I thought I might faint. Truly faint. My heart beat so fast and so hard that I pressed a hand to my chest, afraid the sound would give me away.
I almost had a heart attack.
Because what I was seeing was something no human girl like me should have ever seen.
His cock.
It was long, thick, and heavy, and though I had never seen one before, I knew instinctively he was larger than normal, larger than anything that could belong to a mortal man. It shocked me, it terrified me, and yet… I could not look away.
My eyes widened until they stung, my lashes trembling as I blinked, torn between closing them or keeping them open. I squeezed them shut for a second, panic clawing through me, my heart hammering as if to say don’t look, don’t look. But the moment I opened them again, my gaze was pulled back, helpless, as though his body had tied me with invisible threads.
I couldn’t stop staring.
He moved with slow steps toward the stream, the grass bending beneath his feet, the water rippling before him as though eager to greet him. His golden markings caught the moonlight with every movement, glowing faintly like fire pressed beneath his skin. When he waded into the water, the ripples fanned out, shimmering silver under the moon’s reflection. The stream seemed to embrace him, its glow brighter around him than anywhere else.
The water lapped against his thighs, then his waist, wrapping around his powerful frame. For a moment, he stilled, closing his eyes, letting the current run over his body as if it belonged to him. Then he lowered himself completely, vanishing beneath the surface with barely a splash.
My heart stopped.
And then he rose again.
Water cascaded down his body in bright, glistening trails, sliding over his wide chest and down the ridges of his stomach. Droplets clung to his muscles, running along the deep lines carved into him, dripping slowly down his thighs before disappearing into the stream. His long white hair was plastered to his shoulders and back, but even wet it glowed faintly, strands of silver catching the moonlight.
Every part of him looked unreal, too beautiful, too perfect.
His chest was broad, powerful, with muscles that flexed as he moved, smooth skin stretched tight over strength that spoke of battles and centuries of life. His stomach was hard and flat, ridged with deep cuts of muscle, each line more defined by the water that ran across him. His arms were thick, his shoulders wide, veins tracing down his forearms, proof of the power he carried so easily. His thighs, half-hidden beneath the water, were strong and firm, built to hold weight and move with speed.
And then there were the markings.
The golden lines glowed brighter now, almost alive, as if the water awakened them. They curled across his chest and down his arms, patterns too perfect and too ancient to be anything but magic. The markings pulsed faintly, glowing against the wet skin, each one drawing my eyes to it like a moth drawn to fire.
He lifted his hands, large and steady, scooping water from the stream. He poured it slowly over his head, and I watched as the droplets streamed down his face, glided along his sharp jawline, and disappeared down his neck. He did it again and again, water sliding over his body, highlighting every curve and every hard line of muscle. His movements were unhurried, almost sensual, like he was savoring the water, savoring the night, savoring himself.
My mouth went dry. So dry it hurt to swallow.
I could feel the heat in my face, in my chest, in my whole body. My heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard I tried to calm it. I pressed my hand tighter over my mouth, afraid some sound would escape me, some gasp or whimper that would give away where I was hiding.
But I couldn’t look away.
He was terrifying and breathtaking all at once. A creature of legend standing right there in front of me. I could barely believe my eyes. He was as real as the ground beneath me, but at the same time, he felt like something pulled straight out of the kind of dream you didn’t want to wake from.
And I—
I couldn’t stop staring. No matter how much I told myself I should.
The world around me seemed to go quiet. The crickets, the rustling leaves, even the sound of the wind died down until all I could hear was the heavy beat of my own heart inside my chest. It was so loud I was sure it would give me away. My throat felt tight, my lips dry, but still I didn’t move. I just watched.
He stood in the stream, water rolling down his skin, drops catching the moonlight and making his body glow in places like he was made of silver. Slowly, he dragged his large hand down his face, his fingers brushing over his sharp cheekbones, then down along his strong jaw. My eyes followed as the water trailed lower, sliding over his throat, dripping onto his chest. His chest was broad and solid, muscles shifting every time he moved.
His hand kept traveling lower, past his chest, over the hard ridges of his stomach. I swallowed hard, my body tensing when his fingers finally reached the place between his legs.
He wrapped his hand around his cock.