Chapter 96 The Affair
Ronan stood by the window of his receiving chamber, watching the way the gray light hit the stone courtyard. He felt a dull, familiar ache in his chest—not the bond, but the weight of a secret he should have killed years ago.
"Handle the rogue," Ronan told Matthew, his voice flat. "And find out how many more are in the woods. I’m going to see Pandora."
Matthew didn't argue. He just gave a short nod and left, the heavy thud of the door echoing Ronan’s frustration.
Left alone, Ronan closed his eyes. The current mess with Elara was a direct result of a night he had tried to forget. Some years ago, the "fever" hadn't been a gift; it had been a curse that felt like someone was pouring molten lead into his veins.
Flashback: Eight Years Ago
The pain did not strike like a wound, it settled into him slowly, creeping beneath his skin until it became impossible to ignore. Ronan had endured battle, poison, and magic that would have brought lesser men to their knees, yet this was different in a way he could not name, because it did not attack his body alone, it reached deeper, pressing against something far more vital.
By the time he reached the moon pool, his control was already thinning.
He stepped into the pool without hesitation, the cold water closing around his feet, then his legs, then his waist, until he sank deep enough for it to cradle his chest and shoulders.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe.
The cold dulled the sharpest edges of the pain, wrapping around him like a fragile barrier that kept the worst of it at bay, though it never truly left. His head tipped back, eyes closing as he tried to steady himself, but the relief was fleeting, because another wave rose beneath it, twisting through him with a force that tightened every muscle in his body. His hand braced against the stone edge of the pool, fingers pressing hard enough to anchor him, his jaw clenched as he forced the reaction down.
The sound of movement reached him through the quiet, soft footsteps echoing faintly against the cavern walls, unhurried and familiar enough to pull his attention despite the pain. When he opened his eyes, Pandora was already there.
Her hair was damp from her run, strands of red clinging to her flushed exposed skin, and the faint scent of the forest clung to her, cool night air mixed with something warmer that lingered beneath it. She stepped into the pool, the water rippling outward as she moved closer, her gaze steady, searching.
“Why are you here?” Ronan asked, his voice rougher than usual, edged with strain he had not bothered to hide.
She lowered herself into the water beside him without answering immediately, the surface shifting around her as she settled close enough for their bodies to brush beneath it. The contact was subtle, but intentional, her warmth cutting through the cold in a way that made him more aware of her than he wanted to be.
“I was worried,” she said softly, her eyes moving over his face as though trying to read something he had no intention of showing.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
There was no challenge in her tone, only quiet certainty, and it grated against the control he was already struggling to maintain. He exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting away from her for a moment as another pulse of pain moved through him, less sharp than before but heavier, deeper.
“You don’t need to be here,” he said, his voice lower now.
Pandora did not move away. Instead, she shifted closer, the water carrying her toward him until the space between them disappeared entirely and her thigh brushed his beneath the surface.
The contact lingered this time, unhidden, and when her hand lifted and came to rest against his chest, he felt the full weight of it.
Her touch was gentle, her fingers moving slowly over his skin as if she could smooth away the tension she found there, but the effect was anything but calming.
His muscles tightened instinctively beneath her palm, every nerve suddenly aware of the warmth of her hand, the contrast between her heat and the cool water surrounding them.
“If I could take it from you, I would,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost intimate, as her fingers traced the lines of strain across his chest. “I hate seeing you like this. You shut everyone out when it happens. You become someone else.”
“I can’t control it,” he said, the words coming out more clipped than he intended.
“I know,” she replied, though her hand did not leave him, her touch lingering as if she refused to let him retreat completely.
“Morrigan is still looking for the cause,” he added, grounding himself in something practical, something that did not involve the way her body had drawn closer to his without resistance.
Pandora tilted her head slightly, watching him in that quiet, thoughtful way she had when she was deciding something.
“Or I could tell my father,” she said. “He would send one of our witches. They might be able to ease it, at least until you know what it is.”
“No.”
The refusal came immediately, firm enough that it cut through whatever she had intended to say next.
“But Ronan—”
“I said no.”
The finality in his tone settled between them, but it did not push her away the way he expected it to. Instead, she exhaled softly, her gaze dropping for a moment before lifting again with something different behind it, something warmer, more deliberate.
She moved closer.
Not enough to startle him, but enough that the line of her body aligned with his, her chest brushing lightly against his arm beneath the water. The contact sent a sharper awareness through him this time, one that had nothing to do with the pain still coiled inside him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice quieter now, edged with something he did not bother to name.
Pandora’s cheeks flushed faintly, but she did not pull back.
“I’m trying to help you.”
Before he could stop her, she shifted fully, her hands sliding along his shoulders as she lifted herself and settled into his lap. The movement displaced the water around them, sending soft ripples across the surface as her body pressed against his completely, leaving no space for distance or denial.
Ronan’s entire frame went rigid, every muscle tightening at once as instinct warred with restraint.
“Get off,” he said, though the command lacked the sharpness it should have carried.
She shook her head, her breath catching slightly as she adjusted against him, her body fitting against his with a familiarity that made something inside him tighten.
“If you won’t let me bring help,” she said softly, leaning closer until her breath brushed his neck, warm and uneven, “then let me do this.”
Her lips touched his skin before he could respond. She lingered, pressing a little closer, her warmth surrounding him in a way that blurred the edge between comfort and something far more dangerous.
“Pandora,” he warned, but her name did not carry the force it should have.
“Isn’t this what we should do?” she whispered against his skin, her voice soft, coaxing, her body pressing closer with every word. “We take care of each other.”
Her mouth moved again, slower this time, more certain, and when her teeth grazed his neck in a soft, deliberate bite, the reaction it pulled from him was immediate, a low sound that he did not bother to hide.
“Don’t play with fire,” he said, his voice rougher now, his hand moving to her waist, fingers tightening instinctively.
Pandora’s lips curved faintly against his neck.
“I am fire.”
Something in him gave way.
His hand slid from her waist to her throat, his grip firm but controlled as he forced her to lift her head and meet his gaze. There was something darker in his eyes now, something sharpened by the pain and the tension she had pushed too far to ignore.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said quietly.
Her breath hitched, but she did not pull away.
“Then show me.”