Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
REIYANA
T he market had begun to settle as the afternoon waned, the once-bustling energy thinning to a quieter hum.
Reiya brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, stacking the last of the folded fabrics behind the stall.
Su Lian had already left to help Ru Rong prepare supper, leaving her to tidy up before heading back.
Kaelen’s words at the teahouse still lingered. His voice pressed against her thoughts, unwelcome yet insistent.
She’d always seen Alphas as the ones holding the chains, the ones with the power to take, to command, to silence. But he had looked at her as if he understood—truly understood—what it meant to be defined before he even had a say.
A prickle of unease threaded through her. She didn’t like the way that made her feel—like she’d been holding onto something too tightly, like her convictions weren’t as solid as she’d believed.
Had she been fighting so hard to be free that she’d never questioned if she also put others in cages?
Reiya sighed and rolled her shoulders. The market air clung to her, thick with the scent of spice, dust, and sweat. The afternoon sun had begun its slow descent, bathing the marketplace in a golden haze. She resisted the urge to scrub at her skin as she finished her work for the day.
She looked up when Xian Jun arrived. He took a quick scan of the stall and nodded. “You did well today.”
She smiled. The braided bracelets had continued to draw much interest, selling well. There was always someone lingering over them, running their fingers over the soft woven threads, admiring the intricate knots and the way the colours blended together.
Wiping her hands on her skirt, she told Xian Jun, “I’ll quickly stop by the bathhouse before heading back.”
His eyes flicked over her. “Alone?”
She pointed at the bathhouse’s tiled-domed roof they could see from where they stood. “It’s close by, and I’ll return before supper, I promise.”
He pressed his lips together, clearly weighing whether to press further.
Reiya stared back, a smile on her lips she hoped could reassure him. “I know the risks, Xian Jun. I won’t take unnecessary chances. You can stand and watch me until I reach the doors, if you’d like.”
With a short nod, he relented. “Be quick, then.”
She slipped the coins she earned today into her pouch and gathered the unfinished bracelets, setting them aside for tomorrow. As she sorted through the pile, she found the three identical bracelets.
She’d worked on them during quiet moments earlier.
Her fingers moved before she fully decided what to make, selecting strands from the pile—randomly at first, before settling on earthy ochre, deep forest greens, and bold cerulean blues.
She didn’t question why she reached for them, why those colours felt right, why she had no trouble assigning them their meaning.
Kaelen, bright and bold as the open sky.
Alarik, steady and grounding as the deep woods.
And herself, woven between them, as if she’d been there from the start.
The threads had twisted together in perfect harmony, each pull of the cord tightening something within her chest. She wasn’t sure why she made them—why the intention had planted itself so firmly, why it felt so necessary.
When she’d finished, she studied the three matching bands, running her fingers over the knots. A small thing. A quiet thing. But a bond, nonetheless.
A tether between them.
Reiya exhaled slowly, securing the bracelets in her pouch. With a final nod to Xian Jun, she set off.
The bathhouse was just ahead, flickering lantern light spilling onto the worn stone path. She focused on that instead—on the promise of warmth, of solitude, of scrubbing away more than just dust.
Washing wasn’t just a luxury tonight; it was a necessity. It meant cleansing herself, rinsing some of her Omega scent. The herbalist’s suppression remedy would help, but the oils and lotions would offer an added layer of protection.
And, if she was being honest, it gave her a reason to delay returning to the caravanserai. To delay facing Kaelen again, his earnest golden eyes and the questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
Beyond the bathhouse gates, the lively hum of the market faded into stillness. The courtyard lay quiet, its mosaic tiles glinting under the lantern light. Most patrons were likely still at the market or preparing supper—a lull that worked in her favour.
The attendant was missing. In his place, a large glass jar sat by the entrance, flames flickering against the coins inside.
A neatly written note instructed patrons to leave payment before entering.
She dropped a few coins in, the soft clink echoing faintly.
The simplicity of the system—this quiet trust between the bathhouse and people—brought a smile to her lips.
Reiya stepped into the empty corridor, pushing open the door to the Omega changing room—expecting silence.
She froze.
Alarik stood near the far bench, his torso bare, shirt draped over the seat’s edge.
Candlelight cast golden slants across his skin, carving sharp reliefs along his shoulders and back.
Faded scars traced their way across his body—whispers of battles long past, etched into the sinew of someone built for endurance .
He reached for something on the bench, his movements slow, unhurried, unaware of her presence.
For a man who carried himself with such quiet intensity, he seemed unburdened here—at ease in a way she’d never seen before.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. She had come to the bathhouse to avoid Kaelen, only to stumble upon his brother instead.
Still, a strange warmth curled through her chest, pooling low in her stomach.
She should look away, step back—but instead, she watched, rooted to the spot.
He tilted his head to one side, then the other, a low groan slipping from his lips as the muscles in his neck stretched.
Each subtle motion revealed the coiled strength beneath his skin, his body moving with the precision of something finely tuned.
Her throat was tight, her pulse an unsteady drumbeat.
She wanted to linger. This was a rare thing—a forbidden thing.
But when his fingers brushed the waistband of his pants, she knew she must make her presence known.
“Not to state the obvious,” she said, relieved at the teasing edge she managed to summon, “but you do know this is the women’s bath. The Omega section, no less.”
Alarik froze mid-motion. His entire body tensed, shoulders locking as he turned.
His golden eyes snapped to hers, widening for the briefest moment, flickering. His composure—usually so unshakable—was slower to return. And then, to her astonishment, a faint blush crept up his cheekbones.
Seeing him flustered sent a jolt of breathless amusement through her.
“Forgive me,” he managed, his voice rough. “I didn’t mean . . . that is, I didn’t know . . .” He pressed his lips together, jaw tightened. “There was no attendant to show me the way.”
Reiya arched a brow and folded her arms. “There were signs in both Isseric and Numerian. Difficult to miss.”
He wet his lower lip, tilting his head. “I must’ve been distracted.”
“Careless,” she corrected.
A long pause filled the space between them until the corners of his mouth twitched, as though he couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Immensely.” She let the smile break free. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flustered before. It’s . . . refreshing.”
He huffed, shaking his head. “I won’t deny it’s rare for anyone to catch me in this state of undress.” A self-deprecating smirk curled on his lips. “So I suppose you have the upper hand this time.”
Something about the easy humour in his voice—his willingness to let her win this round—unsettled her in a way she couldn’t name.
Her gaze flicked downward, drawn to the ink on his left forearm—half a sunburst, its rays unfurling outward yet never meeting, as if caught in an eternal rise.
Her brow furrowed. It looked uncannily like Kaelen’s Sunborn sigil, but without its iridescence, without the telltale glow beneath the skin. And it was unfinished.
What did it mean?
Alarik pulled his shirt over his shoulders but made no move to fasten the laces. Instead, he gathered his belongings and strode toward her, each step shrinking the space between them, sharpening her senses like a blade honed to a fine edge.
His scent reached her first—earth and spice, sun-warmed sand.
It had always been grounding, steady. But now, in the stillness of the bathhouse, it curled around her, slipping past her defences, settling deep in her bones.
Her skin prickled with awareness, pulse stuttering as the warmth of his presence brushed against her own.
She had to tilt her head up to meet his stare—bright eyes, shadowed yet piercing, searching her face as if trying to unravel something unseen.
His lashes were long, sooty, almost too long for a man, yet they didn’t take away from his masculinity in the slightest. If anything, it only sharpened the contrast between the restrained control in his expression and the raw power coiled beneath the surface.
The air thickened, charged with an unspoken tension, a pull she hadn’t expected—hadn’t prepared for. The quiet trickle of water from the baths barely registered over the sharp cadence of her breathing, shallower than it should’ve been.
“I should go,” Alarik murmured .
He should , but neither of them moved.
Reiya swallowed hard, but the thick knot in her throat refused to ease.
He was too close, too solid, too masculine, too much in every possible way.
It wasn’t just his presence. It was the way he looked at her, the way he seemed to see her—not as something delicate or breakable, but as someone whole and real.
And gods help her, that unsettled her more than she cared to admit.