Chapter 34
Avilyna
FRAGILE GLASS
Kai doesn’t even give me a chance to argue.
He ignores every word out of my mouth, gathers my things, and strides straight to the counter.
I try to protest, but he cuts me off without so much as a glance.
I pick up the popular model because, unfortunately, any other layout scrambles my brain.
And when I reach for my wallet, he just taps his card, then grabs the nape of my neck and steers me toward the exit as if he owns me. It should make my skin crawl.
It should piss me off.
And it does, but not in the way it’s supposed to. His control, the way he doesn’t ask, just acts... It sends shivers straight through me, low and dangerous. My cheeks burn from the shame of knowing I don’t hate his touch.
I hate that I don’t hate it.
Fucking hell.
“How do you even have money in this world?” I blurt, grasping for any distraction.
Anything safer than what just happened, Kai lets go of me and walks to the back of his bike.
Dropping the bags in the compartment, using the runes etched on it to make everything fit.
He then hands me the helmet and swings one leg over the seat.
“Always be prepared. And with Kvirr, you can do just about anything if you follow its rules.”
“You used a glamour?” I ask, arching a brow.
I never really saw the point in learning those kinds of spells.
I don’t have to hide what I am, not like some Elgarians, not like Ruby.
But I clearly underestimated its usefulness.
In Elgar, no one in their right mind accepts a payment without casting an anti-spell first. It’s basic caution, but here?
Honestly, if I’d known glamour could cover gas money and groceries, I’d have mastered it way earlier.
“Don’t get too excited,” Kai says as he starts the engine.
"Permanent enchantments don’t exist; only curses can last forever. And they always come with a hell of a price."
Well, that’s a nice way to kill the mood.
I climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist as we head toward my place. As soon as I received the new phone, I texted Vanessa, but honestly, I’m not even sure I have the right number, so I also downloaded some apps in case the text isn’t enough.
We zoom past cars, barely stopping at lights.
Kai drives as if he’s invincible, and maybe, as a lycan, he kind of is.
But I’m not, and yet, with him... I feel safe.
Even when he swerves through traffic at a speed that’s definitely illegal, I don’t tense up.
I just let it happen, let it all happen.
His arm occasionally reaches back to steady me when he takes a tight turn or veers too sharply.
At first, it catches me off guard, but eventually, I let go.
And I stop thinking, letting the wind pull the thoughts out of my mind.
Lost in the rush. In the wild, reckless high that only speed can offer.
And I love it.
Starving for anything that will make me feel alive in this ocean of darkness. I’m drowning, and Kai’s the only thing that seems to keep me afloat.
Walking into my home feels... Off. The warmth that usually lingers in the walls is gone, stripped clean.
What’s left behind is thick and heavy, as if the air itself is holding its breath, walking on eggshells.
The only light comes from the moon slicing through the window, casting long, crooked shadows that twist and shift, a mind of their own.
But the proof of what happened here is gone.
“There was a hole here,” I say, confused, as I walk toward the foundation, resting my palm on the cold wood.
“There was,” Kai answers quietly.
He fixed it.
I look at him, but he’s already moving away, heading up the stairs toward my room.
Of course, he’ll erase any ties to another world.
I follow him, walking into my bedroom, and I quickly retrieve my backpack.
Dumping everything out, I start throwing in clothes and whatever I might need.
Kai’s sitting on my bed as if he always belonged there, just two people hanging out in a room.
“What do you remember about your mother?” he asks, as if he’s asking about the weather. The question stops me cold. My hands go still, the shirt I was folding hanging limply between my fingers. I slowly set it down, unsettled, still not looking at him.
“I don’t have many clear memories,” I say, voice low. “It’s more like… dreams that faded over time. Blurry, half-gone, no matter how hard I try to hold onto it, it slips away.” Even I can hear the sadness in my voice.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kai asks, softer than I’ve ever heard him.
It throws me off a little, this quieter side of him, more open. The rough edges finally gave way to something softer, and somehow, it doesn’t feel out of place. It suits him, as if it were always there, just buried under the weight of everything else.
“I know she loved me,” my eyes fixed on the bag, then I slowly move.
“I can feel that much, even if the rest is hazy. I also have this feeling that I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise.
” Kai chuckles but doesn’t interrupt, so I keep going.
The words pull themselves out before I can second-guess them.
“She had long, black, curly hair. I know she was beautiful, inside and out. The kind of woman people respected, admired even. And she always somehow made time for us, her family.”
I pause, the next part catching in my throat.
“I know all those things… All the pieces. But no matter how hard I try, I just… can’t see the whole picture.” My voice cracks at the end, and I feel it all rising—grief, frustration, the helplessness of remembering just enough to ache for what’s missing.
I keep my eyes down, afraid of what I’ll see. I can handle a lot, but not pity, not from him. But his hand, warm and strong, lifts my chin with a tenderness that disarms me. Kai doesn’t force me; he just waits until I meet his gaze.
“Don’t hide,” he says softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Not from me. Never from me.” I exhale, sharp and bitter, letting him lead me to sit next to him, eye to eye.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I murmur. “You do it all the time.”
He pauses, analyzing my statement, then nods, his features naked from any shield.
“Fair enough. Letting people in... It’s not easy for me.”
“I thought, maybe I was more than people.”
Kai holds my gaze steady.“You are… You’re more than that.” The air thickens, slows. His words hang between us like a promise or a confession. Then, softer, he whispers, “You’re something else.”
My lungs stop moving. It’s not just what he says, it’s how he says it, as if I matter. His words settle deep, sinking, tugging at something I didn’t know was exposed.
After a beat, he speaks again quietly.
“Ask me anything.” There’s no mask in his voice, no challenge. Just... him. So I reach for the question that’s been lingering at the edges since the moment I first saw through the cracks in his armour.
“Why do you hide that you’re an artist?” He stills, not what he expected. Kai’s jaw tightens. I can almost see the defences rising, but the gates don’t close, not completely.
“Because when you have a father like mine,” he says slowly, “you learn to bury anything that brings you joy. Otherwise, he finds a way to twist it. Until it stops being yours. Until it breaks you.” There it is, raw and unfiltered; it lingers between us as fragile glass.
“You can trust me with your joy. I won’t break it.”
Kai doesn’t respond right away. His expression barely shifts, just a flicker, the faintest hitch in his breath. But something in him stills, no retreat, and that’s enough.
Then his voice drops low, rough, intimate. “Oh, Princess,” Kai leans closer, “you could destroy me if you wanted to.” The words steal my breath.
And Kvirr, he’s good.
A surprised laugh slips out before I can stop it.
Kai tilts his head. “What’s funny?”
“I dunno, this whole thing,” I say, my finger circling the air.
He gives me a curious—skeptical look. “The fact that you think I’d fall for this sweet talk,” I quickly add, for a moment, something shifts in his expression, hurt?
It’s barely there, just as quickly gone.
Then he goes still, before going back into motion.
Kai grabs my backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? Let’s go.”
I hesitate. Not visibly, but inside, where the doubts live. It would be easier if he stayed in the box I’d put him in; annoying, arrogant, a distraction.
But now?
Now we’re in this in-between space neither of us can name.
We’re not enemies anymore, but calling us friends feels too generous.
He’s either drawn to the challenge, or I am a pastime, maybe both.
Either way, I can’t trust him, not completely anyway.
Because in a place like this, where choices are scarce, even half-trust can be dangerous. But still... I follow.
“Can you teach me how to ride a bike?”
If I ever need to run, really run. I’ll need more than instinct and a quick way out, and that engine fits the role perfectly.
The only light around us comes from the soft glow of the street lamps, casting long shadows across the pavement, the trees circling us.
Kai leans against his motorcycle, arms crossed, looking like he’s deciding whether to lecture me or laugh.
I’m pacing nearby, probably a little too dramatically, but it’s better than panicking.
“Were you even listening to my instructions?” Kai asks, amusement tugging at his voice as if he already knows the answer.
I shoot him a sharp look. “Yes.”
He shrugs. “I mean, I can go over them again if you want.”
“Could you not?” I stop and face him. “It’s a motorcycle, not a spaceship.”
Kai chuckles, shaking his head. “Could’ve fooled me with all that pacing. You do know the point is to ride it, right?”
I roll my eyes and exhale through my nose. “It’s just that your bike’s… intimidating.”
Kai lifts an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s a machine, Vi. Not a monster, it won’t bite.”
“No, but I could crash and die,” I mutter under my breath, trying not to let him see how much that nickname still gets to me.
Kai’s expression softens as he steps closer. “You’ve got to feel it,” he says, quieter now. “Like with Kvirr. You don’t force it, you sync with it.” I pause; he’s not wrong, and it’s annoying.
My shoulders drop a little. “Okay…”
The next hour blurs into a series of gear shifts, false starts, near-stalls, and one near-disaster that almost caused me to crash into a tree. After that, I was five seconds away from deciding that I could just walk to safety if it came down to it.
But Kai is relentless and only says, “Try again.”
Of course, he couldn’t own something beginner-friendly, but we keep at it.
Somewhere between the frustration and the thrill of figuring it out, I catch myself laughing and celebrating the small victories, like finally accelerating without panicking.
Eventually, I ease the bike back in front of the house and cut the engine.
Pulling off the helmet, hair a mess, heart still racing, I glance over at him.
“Well, it was close, but” I say, a smile tugging at my lips, “I didn’t crash.”
Kai grins, waiting for me at the bottom of the porch, that rare left dimple making an appearance.
“No crashes? That’s a win in my book.”
We linger longer than we need to, caught in the quiet of the night.
He lights a joint, and we pass it between us as the bike’s engine ticks while cooling down.
The breeze stirs the fallen leaves, whispering their goodbyes to the trees.
We sit on the porch steps, side by side, in silence, and somehow, it’s perfect.
“I think I know who you are.” He pauses, studying my reaction before continuing.
“I’m ninety percent sure your parents were the King and Queen of Kallahan.
” Kai’s words land—deafening, a silent bomb.
All-consuming, wrapping itself around me as pressure underwater, pulling me beneath the surface of old echoes.
That familiar flicker of déjà vu crystallizes into something solid, the truth.
Kallahan is my home.
“I think you’re Avilyna Morween. Daughter of Camyla Eilgolor and Loras Morween.” He exhales a cloud of smoke, his voice low. “And if that’s true… I understand why Rey hid you.” But the shock of his words is quickly replaced by something else.
A chill that prickles at the back of my neck.
The unmistakable feeling that we’re being watched.