Chapter 28
It Hits Different
Raven
Kane shuts the door behind us quietly, the faint click echoing through the space. My breath is steady but my pulse is anything but.
He leads me deeper into the greenhouse, past curling vines and towering ferns, deeper into a space that feels untouched. Each step feels like slipping into something secret. The further we go, the wilder it becomes, the neat arrangements giving way to tangled greens and massive blooms.
Just ahead, half-hidden beneath the towering foliage, a small room comes into view. A room I wouldn’t have noticed on my own. Nestled in a dense cluster of plants, it blends seamlessly into the chaos around it.
I follow behind him, and I can't help but where my eyes land.
The way his shoulders shift beneath his shirt, and his easy confident stride is impossible not to admire.
His sleeves are rolled up, revealing those forearms that should be illegal, and I swear the absolute audacity of this man existing in my vicinity without a warning label should be a crime.
I try to keep my eyes where they should be. But they drift lower, tracing the lines of his back, and the way his shirt pulls across his broad frame.
Damn it.
Heat simmers deep in my core, and I can feel how wet I’m getting. I drag my gaze back to the path ahead, determined not to actually trip. One misstep and I’ll not only eat shit, but I'll probably die from embarrassment.
The second we step into the hidden room, I freeze. It’s breathtaking. An entire wall is covered in wild thistles. Their deep purple hues are stark against the tangle of rich green. Moonflowers bloom beside them with their silvery petals wide open, glowing faintly under the light.
Scattered across the ground, nestled along the roots and stones are tiny glass mushrooms that are glowing. They're everywhere. Soft blues, deep violets, and eerie greens. Like tiny little lanterns.
I can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes me.
“This…” My voice barely rises above a whisper. “This place is amazing.”
My fingers brush over a moonflower, almost hesitant, and a slow, knowing smile tugs at Kane’s lips.
I swear to the Gods, because there’s no way just one made him. He’s a walking wet dream wrapped in bad decisions. There has to be a flaw somewhere. Maybe if I can get him to take his shirt off, strictly for scientific purposes, of course, I’ll find something. No one should look this perfect.
He blinks, and the moment is gone.
“I brought you in here so you could pi—”
“How did you know this was here?”
He steps closer and suddenly I'm reminded we're alone.
“I’ve been here all day.” he says, lowering his voice. “Pick anything you want”
I blink, trying to process his words. “What? Why? What are we doing?”
A slow smile tugs at his lips as he closes the space between us. He's too close now. “Well, since it’s the solstice and a full moon, it’s tradition to leave a small gift for the faeries. In return, they’re said to leave one for you too,” he explains. “Rumor has it, their gifts are full of magic.”
He manages to keep a straight face while he watches me. “We used to do it as kids,” he continues, shrugging. “Figured it was just strange enough that you’d be into it.”
I cross my arms, tilting my head at him, unable to stop my grin.
“The only reason I'm not offended that you’re judging my weirdness is because, for once, you're actually right,” I say smoothly. “Only a tiny bit, though.”
I shoot him a pointed look before quickly turning away, because there’s no way I’m letting him see me smile like an idiot. He's right though, it does sound fun.
My eyes land on a beautiful, overgrown moonflower, its vines are wrapped tightly around a tall thistle. The white blooms curl around sharp, violet spikes.
Fitting.
“I want that one.”
He follows my gaze, raising a brow. “This?” He gestures toward the plant. I can tell he's amused.
“Yes,” I reply, trying to keep my face neutral. I can’t stop the smile from tugging at my lips. This is actually really exciting, and the bastard wasn’t wrong, I’m totally into this.
He shakes his head, stepping forward without hesitation. “Only you would choose this one.”
He cuts the stem with precise, controlled movements. The air between us shifts slightly as he wraps twine around the lower part where the vines haven’t tangled, before handing it to me.
When his fingers brush mine, and the second our skin meets, I’m on fire.
A sharp jolt sears through me, head to toe, curling low in my stomach like a slow burn. I jerk back, tightening my grip around the flowers like a lifeline. My eyes snap to his. Did he feel that too?
For a beat, neither of us moves.
His gaze locks onto mine, and a slow, lazy smirk tugs at his lips like he’s waiting for me to acknowledge it. To admit what just happened.
My pulse pounds, while my body betrays me in real time as the heat in his stare dares me to pretend I didn’t notice.
“Have you heard of this solstice ritual?” He asks as if he didn’t just eye fuck me like that.
I clear my throat, “No, can’t say that I have.” My voice comes out steady, but the heat creeping up my cheeks is impossible to hide.
He chuckles softly, the sound way too satisfying for my liking. “Well, there’s not much to tell,” he says smoothly. “Just that if you leave the Fae a gift, they’ll leave one for you in return. The gift is tied to whatever intention you had when choosing it.”
I glance down at the delicate bundle, thinking about what he just said. “And if I didn’t have an intention?” I ask, desperately needing a distraction from the heat simmering between us.
His gaze darkens. “Oh, you definitely had an intention, Princess.”
I force a laugh, rolling my eyes to break the tension. “You’re obnoxious, you know that?”
“Hm,” he hums, unimpressed, stepping closer as he holds out his hand. “Ready?”
For a second, I hesitate. Why does it feel like this is a line I’m about to cross?
I place my hand in his, bracing myself. His fingers close around mine, and the warmth is instant. It's the same heat pulsing up my arm like a whispered warning.
I silently beg him not to notice, but his thumb brushes over the back of my hand and a spark ignites under my skin. His gaze lifts to mine, catching every reaction I’m trying so hard to bury.
We step into the gardens, and there he goes again, moving his thumb. Tracing slow, idle circles over my skin. It's a tiny, meaningless touch, and yet, everything inside me tightens and I can feel my nipples harden. Who even gets turned on by hand contact?
I pull my hand out of his, a little too fast.
It’s just two people, under the stars, wandering through the gardens on a silly mission to leave gifts for the faeries. Nothing remotely romantic about…
Shit.
I feel like I can hardly breathe as he turns toward a secluded spot, half-hidden beneath the low-hanging branches of an old oak.
His eyes dart from my face to the bundle of flowers in my hand, daring me to make the first move. The quiet stretches between us, every second dragging just long enough to make my pulse skip.
“Alright, just pick a tree to put your offering under.”
I hesitate, feeling oddly self-conscious under his watchful gaze, but I finally step forward and kneel to place the flowers at the base of one of the trees.
His patience feels like a trap I’m too willing to step into. Gods. Since when did setting down a flower feel like a test?
“That’s it?” I ask, glancing up at him.
He shrugs, but his eyes flare with heat. I narrow my eyes, turning back to the flowers.
I reach to adjust them, only to prick my finger on one of the thorns. A sharp sting shoots through my finger, and I mutter a curse under my breath, pressing my fingertip to my mouth to stop the tiny bead of blood.
I arrange the flowers with more purpose this time. I let out a quiet exhale, then just in case, I send a thought into the stillness. I chose this because it just felt right. I don’t expect anything in return for something you gave me first. Thank you.
The words linger, stretching into the night. For a brief second, I swear the air around us shifts.
A heartbeat later, Kane is beside me, quietly offering his arm.
I hesitate again, because everything about this feels like it means something more, but I slip my hand into his anyway. His arm is warm, solid, and unfairly steady as we start to move through the gardens.
Ugh, his arms are to die for.
The second I think I have the upper hand, he moves. Suddenly, the distance between us is gone and his fingers brush against mine. The contact is so light I almost don’t feel it. We approach a beautifully detailed fountain, and he pauses, looking at me.
I look at him, then at the fountain, captivated.
The heat between my thighs is nearly forgotten.
Under the full moon, the water glows softly, illuminating the intricate design.
Vines and swirls are etched down the pillar, curling delicately around three tiers, each one cascading water into the next before it reaches the small pool at the base.
Coins sparkle faintly beneath the surface, and tiny hints of silver and copper catch the light.
It's all the wishes, hopes, and secrets that have been left behind.
I let out a soft breath, turning back to him with a smile.
He's still looking at me. “So, how was your first ball?”
“It’s been… magical. Though, I have to admit, I’m shocked you’re actually here. This doesn’t exactly scream your scene.”
I move toward the fountain, settling on the ledge. I let my fingers skim through the cool water, swirling idle patterns over the surface. He doesn't move. He stays standing across from me, silent at first, watching. Then, finally, he tilts his head slightly.
“And what, exactly, would you say is my scene?” he challenges.
My pulse kicks up a notch. Shit.