Aarav's POV
My body felt entirely undone. Her words echoed in my mind, replaying the intense pull of the dream. I needed her near—needed her touch. But just as I reached for her, she slipped away, barring the door in my face and snapping me violently back to reality.
It was a dream.
I gasped for air, sitting up in the dark, my skin burning and slick with sweat. What is wrong with me? How could my mind conjure such vivid, overwhelming images?
The restlessness wouldn't fade. My pulse hammered against my ribs, and every time I closed my eyes, her smirk flashed behind my eyelids. Desperate to cool the fever in my blood, I decided to seek out water, even if it meant risking the quiet of the night.
I didn't expect my feet to lead me straight to her door.
"Can I get some water?" I asked, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.
She stood before me in the dim light, drowsy, hair slightly untamed, wearing a simple linen dress. I shouldn't have come.
"Nothing! It's just... the warm weather," I stammered, awkwardly reaching for the pitcher as she retreated to the edge of her bed. Her sharp, sleep-heavy eyes clearly showed she didn't believe a word of it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I managed, regretting the question the second her gaze dropped to my flushed expression.
"You're lying, aren't you?" She rose, stepping closer. "Your cup is already full."
My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked down to see water spilling over the brim, soaking the floorboards.
"What did you dream of to look like this?" Her breath was warm against the space between us, her presence overwhelming my senses.
How could I possibly lie? I couldn't.
"You," I blurted out, before I could stop myself.
She offered a slow, knowing smirk. "I mean—" I scrambled to take it back, my face burning crimson.
Aadhya's POV
He looked like he'd seen a ghost, completely flushed and unable to hold my gaze.
"Did our conversation earlier really get to you like this?" I stepped closer, backing him against the stone wall as he fumbled with the cup in his hand.
"What? What do you mean?" he tried to deflect, his eyes darting away in panic.
"You were dreaming about me, weren't you? You as much as admitted it." I pressed the advantage, watching his chest heave with nervous breath. "What did you see? Were you calling out for me?"
His mortified expression was all the confirmation I needed.
"I suppose I denied you," I murmured, leaning in a fraction closer, watching the way his breath hitched. "I'm so sorry for dismissing you earlier. Would you like me to compensate for that now?"
"What?" he breathed, his eyes snapping back to mine, wide and startled.
"I said I'd like to make it up to you."
"What do you mean?" he asked, though the tension in his posture made it clear he understood every word.
"First, promise me you won't run away this time. Then, I'll tell you."
"Alright! I promise," he answered quickly, the urgency in his voice almost comical.
"Good." I guided him smoothly toward the edge of the bed, taking the cup from his trembling hand and setting it aside.
Fear and desire warred in his eyes, a volatile mix that made my own pulse race.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered suddenly, the words slipping out before he could catch them—completely reversing his usual guarded pride.
I paused, raising an eyebrow. "I thought 'beautiful' wasn't a word for men. Shouldn't you be striving to be noble and stern?"
He flushed deeply, looking down at his hands in quiet embarrassment. "I... I meant what I said."
"So you liked it?" I murmured, refusing to let him retreat behind his usual walls. "You loved it when I called you that day, didn't you?"
His head snapped up, awareness flashing in his eyes. "How do you know I liked it?"
"Because your face was blazing just like it is right now. You couldn't even look away."
The realization seemed to wash over him, breaking down the last of his defenses. The unknown, terrifying shift in his own emotions was written all over his face.
"You promised you'd tell me everything about that day," he urged quietly, stepping closer again. "I wish to know."
"If I tell you, you can't retreat," I warned, closing the distance between us until our steps synchronized.
"I won't," he swore, his voice dropping to a low, intense register. "I'm not scared."
"Scared?" I let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "So you're claiming you'd let me do whatever I want, even when you spent months insisting you despised me?"
"I don't loathe you!" he blurted out, the confession tearing from his throat in a breathless rush.
Silence settled between us, heavy and electric.
I reached out, my fingers grazing softly against his cheek. His skin was impossibly smooth, trembling slightly at my touch. "Your skin... how is it so soft?"
"Ma—maybe because I'm a prince," he stammered, his back hitting the mattress as I gently urged him down, leaning over him with a gaze that held him entirely captive.