Saphira wakes with a jolt, the sudden banging from the kitchen shattering the silence she had grown ustomed to. Her pulse quickens for a brief moment before settling as she takes in the scene before her.
Niks stands in the kitchen, his back turned to her. For the first time, she notices-he isn’tpletely concealed. He’s wearing only a t-shirt, exposing the sharp angles of his shoulders and the lean strength in his stance.
But it isn’t his build that captures her attention-it’s his hair.
The brightest shade of white she has ever seen. Almost unnatural in its purity, yet strikingly beautiful. She hadn’t imagined anyone could have such a color naturally, and yet here he was, standing before her, proving otherwise.
Her thoughts begin to turn. What is he? After everything Jed had told her, she knows this must mean something.
But what?
Saphira sits up slowly, wrapping the nket tightly around her, instinctively seeking some small sense of security. She waits, watching, unsure what Niks will do next.
A part of her wants to move-wants to escape to the bathroom, put some distance between them-but another part of her remains frozen, unwilling to draw attention to herself.
She observes him shifting objects around the kitchen, though she can’t quite make out what he’s doing. Then, without warning, he stiffens, his entire body tensing in a way that makes her instinctively avert her gaze.
“Who’s Connor?”
The question cuts through the silence, catching her off guard.
Her mind scrambles-had she spoken his name out loud? She searches her memory, but she’s certain she hadn’t. How could he possibly know?
“My brother,” she answers, confusioncing her voice.
Niks lets out a low grunt in response, offering nothing further. He merely continues whatever task had upied him before.
The room suddenly feels heavier, thick with awkwardness. Saphira hesitates before slowly rising to her feet, ensuring the nket remains securely wrapped
around her.
She doesn’t know what just happened-but she knows better than to press for answers.
“Excuse me,” Saphira mutters under her breath, barely loud enough to be heard, before swiftly grabbing her bag and making a break for the bathroom.
She shuts the door behind her, locking it with a quick twist before finally exhaling.
That was awkward.
The whole encounter had left her on edge, and now, away from his presence, she can at least breathe.
Turning toward the mirror, she catches sight of her reflection and winces. Her hair is a mess, strands sticking out in every direction, further proof of the restless sleep she had gotten.
Not that she had expected to wake up looking wless, but still-she looks exhausted.
Running a hand through her hair, she sighs. It’s nothing a little effort can’t fix.
Saphira turns on the shower, letting the steady stream of water wash away the lingering tension from the morning. She moves quickly, scrubbing her hair
and body before stepping out, the cool air biting against her damp skin.
Without a hairdryer, she sticks to her usual routine, parting her wet strands and weaving them into two neat its. It’s the best way to manage it–any attempt to leave it down would just result in an unruly, frizzy mess.
Satisfied, she finishes up and pushes open the bathroom door.
A quiet breath escapes her as she steps into the main room. Part of her hopes Niks has disappeared back into his bedroom, leaving her to the silence. But the other half-whether out of curiosity or something else-wonders what might happen if he hasn’t.
She hesitates for only a second before pressing forward, ready to find out.
As soon as Saphira steps out of the bathroom, the steady sound of Niks moving things around in the kitchen reaches her ears. The rhythmic banging persists, a stark contrast to the silence she had grown ustomed to.
She moves quickly, cing her bag back in its usual spot by the wall near the bathroom before making her way into the living area.
Her gaze shifts toward the kitchen-and freezes.
Niks stands there, unmoving, positioned beside the small table. But it isn’t his stance that unsettles her-it’s his eyes.
He’s looking directly at her.
For a moment, neither of them moves, the air between them hanging heavy with something unspoken.
For the first time, Saphira sees his face, and it steals her breath.
She had imagined him to be sharp, intimidating-someone whose features matched the coldness in his voice. But nothing could have prepared her for this.
Despite his striking white hair, his eyebrows are a deep brown, a stark contrast that somehow makes his features even more intense. The shadow of stubble along his jaw suggests his beard would match, only adding to the effortless ruggedness about him. His brows, naturally shaped and perfectly neat, spark an odd touch of jealousy-how could something so simple look so refined without effort?
But it’s his nose that surprises her most.
Most men she has known bear the marks of past fights-crooked noses, the silent reminders of rough encounters and heated shes. Yet his is different. Straight, perfectly bnced,plementing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the precise structure of his jaw. Every detail of his face seems designed with an unnatural level of perfection, something meticulously sculpted rather than inherited by chance.
And then-his lips.
Heart-shaped, perfectly formed, the kind of mouth that seems capable of cruelty yet remains mesmerizing all the same. There’s something about them, something that holds a quiet promise-of danger, of power, of secrets she has yet to uncover.
But none of itpares to his eyes.
Her breath stutters as she meets them-the brightest, most luminous shade of gold she has ever seen. They almost glow, burning against the pale contrast of his hair, making him seem ethereal, untouchable, like something beyond the reach of ordinary existence.
Looking at him now, she wonders-is he even mortal?
Because if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she was standing before a god..