CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 67
ARIA

The night was too quiet. 

Not peaceful quiet, but the kind that made every little sound stand out, like the rustle of leaves outside the window or the faraway hum of traffic. 

I lay there on the bed, half-awake, my body heavy with exhaustion, but my mind wouldn’t stop moving.

The last few days had been… too much. 

Too many feelings I didn’t know where to put, too many questions with no answers. It all sat inside me like a restless ache that wouldn’t let me breathe properly, wouldn’t let me rest.

Dinner drifted back into my thoughts, hazy and disjointed. I hadn’t eaten much—barely touched the food at all. 

My fork had moved, almost out of habit, but nothing tasted like anything. 

The wine had been… different.

I’d let myself drink, more than I usually would. One glass, then another, the sharp burn giving way to a lazy warmth that curled in my veins. 

By the second glass, I felt lighter, softer, like the weight I carried had slipped just a little off my shoulders.

But now, lying here, the room tilting in the faintest, slowest way, I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe I’d gone too far. 

That maybe it had left me too open, too loose—like the edges of reality had blurred, and I wasn’t sure what was dream and what was real anymore.

Something pulled me out of that half-sleep, where you’re still floating but your body knows something isn’t right. 

At first, I thought it was in my head, some leftover echo of the day, but then I heard it again—a faint sound, soft but deliberate, like the air shifting around someone who wasn’t supposed to be there.

My chest tightened.

I held my breath, listening

I told myself it had to be nothing. The wine, the exhaustion—my mind playing tricks. But then there it was again: the almost inaudible scrape of movement, closer this time.

Cold fear slid through me. I sat up slowly, my body clumsy with sleep and alcohol, eyes straining in the dark, searching for the source of the sound. 

For a split second, I was sure—absolutely sure—that someone was in the room with me.

In the dim spill of light from the window, I saw it. 

Movement. 

A shadow sliding across the room—quiet, deliberate. 

My stomach dropped, and every part of me went cold and hot simultaneously.

My eyes blinked hard, trying to focus, but everything felt soft at the edges, like I was still half-dreaming. 

The wine. 

That stupid wine. 

Maybe it was playing tricks on me, or maybe I was just so tired my brain was inventing things to fill the dark.

But then I saw them.

Two glints in the shadows, steady and unblinking. Golden. 

Vertical pupils catching the moonlight like they’d been waiting there all along.

My breath stuttered in my chest. I rubbed my eyes hard, as if that would fix it, as if when I opened them again, the room would be empty and ordinary. 

But no—those eyes were still there.

Watching me.

A nervous laugh almost slipped out of me, dry and shaky. 

This has to be the wine. 

Just the wine. 

But even as I told myself that, my heart wasn’t listening. It was pounding too fast, too wild, like it already knew something my mind was refusing to accept.

I squinted, trying to make sense of it, my foggy mind scrambling to tell me it was just my imagination. 

And suddenly—there was no room left for doubt. 

The faint moonlight caught on the edges of his wings, folded neatly behind him, making him look both impossible and heartbreakingly real. 

My breath hitched.

And those eyes… 

God, those eyes. Golden, sharp, alive—so full of something I couldn’t even put into words. 

They pierced straight through me, the way they always had, leaving me breathless.

My lips parted before I could stop them, and the name slipped out again—barely a whisper, yet so heavy with everything I felt.

“Lean…”

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might break free from my ribs. 

I froze as he took another step closer, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on mine. My whole body tensed, every nerve alive.

Then—his voice.

Low, husky, familiar in a way that went straight through me.

“Aria,” he murmured.

The sound of my name on his lips was enough to undo me. 

My stomach flipped, my breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, I forgot how to move, how to think. 

It had been so long since I’d heard him say it—too long—and the ache of that absence slammed into me all at once.

My chest tightened, like something inside me had been locked away and suddenly forced open. 

My throat burned, hot and raw, and I realised in that single breath just how much I had missed him.

The tears came before I could stop them, slipping free, warm and helpless. 

I pressed a hand over my mouth, as if I could hold myself together, but it was useless. Just his voice—just my name—was enough to unravel me.

My hands lifted, shaky and uncertain, and he leaned down just enough—close, steady—so I could reach him. 

My palms cupped his face, trembling against the rough stubble of his jaw, the unmistakable heat of his skin searing into me.

For one terrified heartbeat, I thought he might vanish like a dream. 

But the warmth of his skin was real, the roughness of his stubble scratching lightly against my palms. 

My tears slipped free, and instead of speaking, he caught my wrists, his thumbs sweeping gently over the wetness on my cheeks. 

The softness of the gesture unravelled me more than any words could have.

A sound escaped me—half laugh, half sob—and then his mouth was on mine. 

No hesitation. 

No explanation. 

Just him. 

His kiss was deep, claiming, desperate, his tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that sent my whole body shuddering.

My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, terrified to let him go. 

My body answered his without thought, hips arching toward him, craving his weight, his touch, all of him. 

He said nothing, only pressed harder, his hands firm at my waist, his mouth moving over mine like it had been waiting for years.

Every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his hands spoke louder than words ever could—I’m here. I want you. 

Don’t let go.

And I didn’t. 

I couldn’t. 

He tore his mouth from mine only far enough to breathe, his forehead pressed against mine, his breaths harsh and uneven. 

The sound of it—raw, unsteady—made my pulse skitter wildly. 

His eyes caught mine in the dim light, darker now, heavy with a need that shook me to my core. 

He didn’t beg with words this time. 

He didn’t have to. 

It was written all over him—in the trembling restraint of his body, the desperate clutch of his hands at my waist, the way his chest heaved against mine.

I answered with a broken little nod, my throat too tight for speech, my whole body leaning into him, urging him closer, closer. 

A helpless sound slipped out of me, and in the next instant his mouth claimed mine again—hot, insistent, leaving me no space to think, only feel.

His hands roamed as if he’d been starving for this moment, mapping me with reverence and urgency all at once. 

Fingers traced over my hips, my ribs, my back, teasing, exploring, making my skin shiver under his touch. 

When his hand finally slid lower, finding the edge of my nightgown, I felt my breath hitch. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the thin fabric upward, baring me inch by inch.

The cool air prickled against my heated skin, and I gasped softly as the gown slipped over my head and fell away. 

His gaze never wavered, drinking me in with an intensity that left me trembling. 

For a heartbeat he simply looked, his chest rising and falling hard, as though the sight of me undid him as much as his closeness undid me.

Then he bent his head, lips finding my breast, and I arched with a startled cry as his mouth closed around me. 

The wet heat of his tongue circled, flicked, teased, pulling sensations from me so sharp they coiled low in my belly. My hands clutched at his hair, holding him there, shameless in my need. 

Each suck, each swirl of his tongue sent shocks of pleasure through me, every nerve alight, every part of me aching for more.

My head tipped back, a desperate moan slipping free as my body arched into him, chasing the heat of his mouth. 

He lingered, worshipping me with maddening patience, his lips closing over my other breast, tongue teasing until my skin burned and my pulse throbbed between my legs. 

His hands never stilled—mapping me, memorising me, as though each curve of my body belonged to him alone.

When his mouth finally began its descent, I shivered, anticipation sparking with every kiss that trailed lower and lower. 

His lips brushed over my stomach, his tongue dipping into the hollow of my navel, making me gasp and twist beneath him. 

He moved with deliberate slowness, tracing fire over my skin, his breath hot and uneven as he reached the tops of my thighs.

My heart hammered as his palms parted me, baring me shamelessly to the weight of his stare. I trembled under it, heat rushing through me at the hunger in his eyes.

“Lian,” I gasped, my voice breaking, my body shaking with need. 

“Please… I need you.”

For a long, breathless moment, he only looked at me, eyes dark, unblinking, consuming. 

Then, the faintest smile curved his lips—slow, sensual, almost cruel in its restraint.

“Patience,” his expression seemed to say, though his mouth gave me no more than a low murmur. 

“I want to taste all of you.”

And then he bent, his tongue dragging a long, deliberate stroke up the sensitive skin of my thigh, so close it made my hips jerk. He teased me mercilessly, stroking, circling, never quite giving what I ached for. 

My legs quivered, my body squirming under his hold, desperate for more—more contact, more pressure, more of him.

He positions himself at my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against me, teasing, probing, promising. 

"Aria," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion. 

"You are everything to me. My world, my life, my love. I will always be here for you, always."

And with a single, powerful thrust, he enters me, filling me completely, stretching me, completing me in a way that I never knew was possible. 

We move together, our bodies in perfect sync, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating as one. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of us, lost in each other, lost in the intensity of our shared pleasure.

His hips snap forward, his body moving with a fierce, almost feral intensity, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. 

I can feel the tension building inside me, a coil of desire that threatens to snap at any moment.

"Lean," I cry out, my body convulsing as the orgasm hits me, a tidal wave of sensation crashing over me, leaving me breathless and spent. 

"Oh my god, Lean!"

He continues to move, his hips thrusting up into me, his cock hitting that perfect spot, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure, every last gasp of ecstasy.