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“So these are the chambers of the feared—” she glanced up at him, wryness slipping into her voice “—and rightly so—Vykan Lord Kyrax.”

His head tilted, the faintest amusement threading through the bond.

“I had expected something more… fancy,” she added.

“I am a simple being,” he said.

Wry, in return.

It startled a quiet breath of laughter from her.

She turned fully to him, still catching her breath. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t protect you better.”

His posture went rigid. “You were nearly taken.”

“But you came,” she replied. “You did what had to be done.”

He inclined his head slowly. She tried to read him—tried to guess at his expression behind the mask—but the only clues she had were the burning red of his eyes and the heat simmering through their strange connection.

And then she felt it.

A rush of him—his desire, his restraint, twisting together like opposing currents. Not a thought, not a word, but the pulse of his need and the brutal control holding it in place.

How long has he lived like this?

How long has he been holding everything back?

It all made sense—the precision, the lethal elegance of his movements, the way he’d torn through Isshyr’s soldiers with terrifying calm.

“That was you,” she whispered. “The violence. The control. That’s you.”

His breathing deepened behind the mask.

“You don’t have to hold back anymore,” she said quietly.

“No,” he answered, voice low and final. “I do. Not yet.”

The certainty in his tone hit her like a shock.

On my account… he has been suffering.

Unbelievable.

Her hands rose before she fully realized what she was doing. She reached for his gauntlets—massive, black, seamless extensions of him—and tugged lightly.

He didn’t resist.

He removed them one by one, each piece disengaging with precise clicks. She reached higher, fingertips brushing the edge of his breastplate. He removed that too, then the shoulder plates, then the layered segments protecting his arms and ribs.

Piece by piece, the armor came away.

Piece by piece, she saw him.

Warm.

Breathing.

Alive.