Bella stirred from restless sleep, warmth brushing over her skin in slow, rhythmic passes. The sensation was gentle—almost soothing—and for a moment her fogged mind couldn’t place it. She blinked, vision adjusting to the low amber light that filled the chamber.

  Movement.

  Her gaze fixed on the broad rise and fall of a powerful chest, dark sigils etched across it glowing faintly like embers banked in shadow. Her eyes traveled upward—collarbone, throat, jaw—

  And then realization struck.

  Ath’tal was naked.

  Entirely.

  A small, startled squeak escaped her as she slammed her eyes shut, face igniting with heat. “Oh, goddes—!”

  A deep chuckle rolled above her, rich and low, vibrating like distant thunder. The sound sent an unexpected shiver through her.

  “You’re awake,” Ath’tal said mildly, amusement threading his voice. “I was beginning to wonder how long you’d sleep.”

  Bella buried her face into the pillow as though it might swallow her whole. “Why are you—why are you like this?”

  Another chuckle, darker this time. “Humans,” he said. “So modest.” She could hear the smirk. “Among yokai, our bodies are not a source of embarrassment. They simply are.”

  Her fingers clenched in the sheets. Even with her eyes closed, the image burned behind her lids—solid muscle, effortless power, sigils spiraling down his arms like an ancient language written into flesh.

  “I—” Her voice wobbled.

  “You are in my private bathing chambers,” Ath’tal continued, entirely unbothered. “I moved you here to clean your wounds. You have been in my bedchambers since you were brought back.”

  Bella froze.

  “Your… bedchambers?”

  “Yes.” His tone suggested the answer was obvious. “Where else would I keep someone under my protection?”

  Her thoughts tangled immediately. “You didn’t think to tell me?”

  “You were unconscious,” he replied calmly. “And injured. You required care. I was not about to delegate that.”

  Her heart raced. She couldn’t deny the gentleness of his tending—but the intimacy of it all left her reeling.

  She cracked one eye open.

  Regretted it instantly.

  He had shifted, his form outlined by the soft glow of lanternlight. The sigils along his skin pulsed faintly, alive, humming in the air between them. She squeezed her eyes shut again and groaned.

  “You could have warned me!”

  His laughter softened, almost fond. “You’ve faced horrors without flinching, Bella. Yet the sight of my body has you hiding like a startled pup.”

  “It’s not the same!” she snapped, voice muffled by the pillow.

  The bed dipped slightly as he moved closer.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Bella tensed.

  “You are not yokai,” Ath’tal said, his tone gentler now. “I forget how fragile humans can be about such things.”

  She peeked again—carefully this time—and found his face closer, eyes intent, searching.

  “You,” he murmured, almost to himself, “are not fragile.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “And yet,” he added, the faintest amusement returning, “you blush very easily.”

  Any retort she had vanished under the weight of his gaze.

  After a moment, he straightened. “Rest,” he said, voice slipping into command. “Your wounds are healing. But they will need time.”

  She nodded, mute, watching as he crossed the chamber. His bare form moved with effortless grace, unguarded and unapologetically yokai, before fading into shadow.

  Only then did Bella release the breath she’d been holding.

  She lay staring at the ceiling, cheeks still burning.

  She was in his chambers. His bathing chambers. And he had cared for her with a devotion that left no room for doubt.

  And the sight of him—powerful, unashamed, utterly himself—was now etched into her memory.

  An image she knew she would not forget anytime soon.

  ----

  Warmth was the first thing Bella noticed when she woke.

  Then the absence.

  Her hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing only cool sheets. Ath’tal was gone. The hearth held nothing but dying embers, their faint crackle swallowed by the vast stillness of the chamber. Bella sat up slowly, the bandages along her back pulling just enough to remind her she was not whole.

  The bed was enormous—dark, ancient wood wrapped in heavy furs and silk. Everything smelled like him: earth and steel and something feral beneath it. Without him there, the space felt exposed. Vulnerable.

  She slid her legs over the side, searching for her boots.

  Too quiet.

  The doors slammed open.

  The guards outside barely reacted before Halvek shoved past them, robes snapping around his legs like wings. His golden eyes burned with fury, his restraint long since spent.

  Bella straightened. “What—”

  “You,” he hissed, stalking toward her. “Still here. Still in his bed like a parasite feeding on his pity.”

  She held her ground. “Lord Ath’tal knows I’m here.”

  “He thinks he does,” Halvek snarled. “You’ve blinded him. Softened him. And weakness in a lord costs us everything.”

  “I didn’t ask for anything,” Bella shot back, fists clenching.

  “But you’ve taken it all,” he snapped. “His time. His judgment. His restraint.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the tremor in his jaw, the madness simmering behind his eyes. “You don’t belong here, human. You’re a danger. And if you don’t leave—”

  His hand rose.

  Claws unfurled, edged with yokai magic.

  The air shattered.

  A low, inhuman growl rolled through the doorway.

  Halvek froze.

  So did Bella.

  Ath’tal stood there, fury coiled tight beneath his skin. Shadows curled at his feet. His eyes burned molten, no longer guarded—only held. The sigils across his chest and arms flared, blazing now, and beneath them something moved.

  The Beast stirred.

  Halvek turned—

  Too late.

  Ath’tal was already on him.

  One clawed hand closed around Halvek’s throat and slammed him into the stone wall with bone-cracking force.

  “You raise your hand to her,” Ath’tal whispered, voice trembling with destruction, “in my chambers?”

  Halvek clawed uselessly at his grip. “She’s corrupting you—weakening your blood—”

  Ath’tal snarled, fangs lengthening. The room thickened, pressure crushing in as the Beast surged closer to the surface.

  Bella stepped forward, heart pounding.

  The light in his eyes flared brighter.

  He was going to kill him.

  “Ath’tal.”

  He didn’t move—but his breath stuttered.

  “Ath’tal,” she said again, steady despite the fear. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, his head turned.

  For a heartbeat, she saw it clearly—not just rage, but something older. Grief. Hunger. A fury forged by centuries of loss.

  “This isn’t who you are,” she said softly.

  The sigils flickered.

  Then dimmed.

  Ath’tal’s grip loosened. Halvek collapsed to the floor, choking, scrambling back.

  Ath’tal didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed on Bella, anchoring himself there.

  “He will not touch you again,” he said, voice still rough with restraint.

  Halvek staggered upright, clutching his throat, eyes burning with fear and hatred. “You’re unfit to rule,” he spat—then fled.

  The doors slammed shut.

  Silence rushed in.

  Bella exhaled shakily. Ath’tal stood rigid, fists clenched, fighting something still prowling beneath his skin.

  She crossed to him and placed her hand against his chest. The sigils were hot beneath her palm, his body trembling.

  “You were going to kill him,” she whispered.

  “I would have,” he said without denial. “He threatened what is mine.”

  “I’m not yours,” she said, meeting his gaze.

  His hand covered hers—gentle, possessive, controlled. “Not yet.”

  The words sent a chill—and a spark—through her blood.

  Neither spoke after that.

  The fire murmured. Shouts echoed faintly in distant halls. But in that moment, there was only the two of them—

  The Beast.

  The girl.

  And the line he had nearly crossed.