<h4>Chapter 522: 522-The Kiss Of Love</h4>


    <strong>Leysa:</strong>


    With every step toward the basement door, something began to feel strange. The questions Troy started asking did not sit right with me.


    "So, do you have feelings for anyone?" he asked.


    I slowed down, turned to face him, and gave him a puzzled look before straightening my posture.


    "Why would you ask that? Do not tell me you have a crush on me," I teased.


    Of course, that was impossible. It could never be.


    I knew he liked my sister. He was her mate.


    As for me, I was just someone he had known in passing. Maybe a little more than that, but never someone he would look at that way.


    "Why is it so unbelievable?" he shot back.


    The question felt strange. My steps slowed, but I adjusted my posture, pretending I was not paying much attention to what barely qualified as flirting.


    "Anyway, what are we looking for?" I asked, nodding toward the basement.


    He pointed at the door and unlocked it. As it creaked open and he gestured for me to go ahead, I froze.


    A hard gulp slid down my throat. I had to force it, and I was sure he noticed because he stepped closer, studying my face.


    "What happened? Go on," he urged.


    "What are we looking for?" I repeated, turning fully toward him this time. I wanted him to understand that I would not blindly follow him downstairs without knowing why.


    I had once been trapped in a house full of unstable people. I was not about to put myself in danger again.


    He did not seem pleased. He moved even closer.


    "I did not think you would hesitate to follow me into the basement," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Do you not trust me?"


    I kept my eyes on the stairs before finally facing him.


    "I was trapped thest time I trusted someone," I told him quietly. "It is not about you, Troy. Sometimes things are about me."


    The emotions hit me without warning. I used to cry only in front of my parents because I knew they wouldfort me. In truth, I rarely felt like crying.


    But after they were gone, I had to force myself to stay strong. Then I was captured by those people and left scarred.


    "Then let’s say it is about you," he murmured, gesturing toward the basement again.


    I stared at the open doorway, then stepped back.


    "You know what? I do not even want to know anymore. You should consider my mental health too. I know you probably do not care, but I thought you might care a little. It is fine. No one has to care about me. I can take care of myself."


    The words spilled out of me. They had been sitting inside since the day I was locked in that room, waiting for Charles to devour me.


    "You need to let your emotions out more often," Troy remarked.


    I rolled my eyes. If he thought this sudden trip to the basement had anything to do with my well being, I did not believe it.


    "Alright," he said atst. "I will tell you what I wanted. I needed to speak to you privately. I wanted to ask you something."


    His tone shifted. There was a sharp edge to it that made the hair at the back of my neck rise.


    "And you needed me to go into the basement for that?" I asked.


    If he wanted me to trust him, he was not helping his case. The more he spoke, the more suspicious I became.


    "Yeah. It is something that has to be done alone, away from everyone," he replied.


    His tone unsettled me.


    "What is it? What do you want to know?" I asked, drawing in a slow, heavy breath to steady myself.


    I had already endured enough. I was not going to let anyone belittle me or push me over the edge again.


    He stepped closer and looked straight into my eyes.


    "Did you tell Clementine about our one night stand?" he asked.


    The question struck me hard. I had been waiting for him to bring it up.


    I swallowed and looked away.


    "No, I have not," I answered honestly.


    "I want the truth," he whispered.


    I stared at him in disbelief. He was truly afraid I would tell Clementine and ruin whatever chance he believed he still had with her.


    For a moment, I wondered why I had assumed he would back off once Clementine chose Ian. Maybe I had been thinking too far ahead.


    "Troy, I have not told her anything," I said firmly. "But if you keep pushing me, I might."


    He held my gaze for a second. Then everything changed.


    His hand shot forward and closed around my neck. He shoved me back against the wall, pressing in close.


    My eyes widened in shock. Tears burned at the corners.


    So this was what it hade to. No one ever chose me first.


    But watching Troy do this to me, whether for Clementine or for himself, shattered something inside me.


    He leaned closer, his breath brushing my skin.


    And then he kissed me.


    For the first few seconds, I could not move or respond to his kiss. It felt unreal, like something I had once imagined but never believed would actually happen.


    Then his hands slid down from my neck to my chest, and he squeezed me roughly.


    A shiver ran through me, not from desire but from the sudden shift in control.


    I reached up and ced my hand behind his head. Instead of pushing him away, I pulled him closer and deepened the kiss.


    Our lips moved in rhythm, our breaths tangling as the kiss deepened. His hands wandered over me, while my fingers threaded through his hair and held him close.


    Then a sharp cough cut through the moment.


    We both froze. Another pointed cough followed from the side.


    Slowly, we pulled away from each other. Our heads turned in the same direction.


    His mother stood there, watching us with a bright smile on her face. Her hands were pressed against her chest in delight.


    "You two are together!" she eximed, sounding genuinely pleased.


    Both of us immediately lowered our heads and stepped apart.


    It would be safe to say we were embarrassed to be caught by his mother.