Aveline pressed her lips tightly together. "Talk?" she repeated. "About what?"

Theron watched her carefully, still leaning over her on the bed.

"Will you tell me why you’re angry?" he asked quietly.

Aveline immediately looked away.

"Stop pretending," she muttered, her lips trembling despite how hard she tried to hide it.

She still could not understand how he acted as though he knew nothing. He had gotten upset seeing her in another man’s robe, yet he could spend the night with a woman smelling of jasmine and then stand here asking why she was upset.

The unfairness of it burned inside her chest.

"Will you look at me?"

Theron reached out and gently caught her cheeks, trying to turn her face back toward him, but Aveline stubbornly shut her eyes instead.

A soft sigh escaped him, warm breath brushing across her face.

"Aveline..."

His lips touched her cheek lightly.

Aveline refused to open her eyes. She turned her face away at once.

"Aveline, look at me."

His voice remained maddeningly gentle as his lips brushed along her jaw this time. Still, she refused to react.

"...Aveline."

His tone deepened, lower and rougher now, and the warmth of his mouth ghosted against the sensitive skin of her neck.

Aveline swallowed hard.

That voice... That warmth...

A dangerous heat spread through her body far too quickly, curling beneath her skin and making her heart stumble against her ribs.

Theron lifted his gaze to her face and saw it immediately. The way her breathing had changed. The way she sat there, caught somewhere between resistance and surrender.

And for one reckless moment, he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever.

Just her... Just this closeness and nothing more.

"Talk to me," he murmured darkly, "or I’ll start kissing you in places no one’s kissed you before."

With a quick tug, he pulled her skirt slightly upward, his hand settling against her thigh.

Aveline’s eyes flew open instantly.

Kiss her there?

"You stink of jasmine!" she burst out, shoving hard against his chest. "Get away from me!"

Theron stayed still beneath her hands.

And suddenly, Aveline realized how fast his heart was beating. She paused. Her palm remained pressed against his chest while his heartbeat pounded steadily beneath it.

Theron looked at her for a long moment before slowly removing his hand from her thigh and bringing it back to her cheek instead.

Jasmine.

She kept mentioning jasmine. Which meant... that was what this entire storm was about.

Theron frowned faintly in thought. Then, slowly, realization dawned. Rosalyn--the only person who had touched him that morning was Rosalyn.

He lifted the edge of his robe slightly and caught the scent himself.

There it was... A faint trace of jasmine where Rosalyn had grabbed him earlier. Barely noticeable. Almost impossible to detect unless someone was absurdly sensitive to it.

Theron stared at Aveline in disbelief.

Is she a hound?

And more importantly...

If she had smelled jasmine on him, then what kind of conclusions had her imagination reached?

The thought alone made him want to laugh and sigh at the same time.

Instead, he only exhaled slowly, looking at the furious girl in front of him with helpless fondness.

Theron sat up slowly.

Then, without a word, he shrugged off his robe.

Aveline instinctively wanted to turn away. She truly did. But the moment she saw him stripping it off, something deep inside her young maiden’s heart stubbornly refused to look elsewhere.

She liked beautiful things.

And unfortunately, Theron was unfairly beautiful.

"You can keep the robe," he said flatly before tossing it straight onto her face.

Aveline let out an offended sound and immediately started clawing at it like an angry cat trying to escape a blanket trap. For some reason, the fabric tangled around her hands and refused to come off properly.

But slowly, as she struggled against it, she noticed something.

The jasmine scent was not everywhere.

In fact, it was barely there at all.

The robe mostly smelled like him.

Like Theron.

That clean, cool scent she had unknowingly memorized long ago.

Her movements slowed.

Finally, she pushed the robe down enough to free her face, only to realize Theron was sitting there half-naked, watching her without the slightest embarrassment.

Aveline’s eyes betrayed her instantly.

They lingered shamelessly over the broad muscles of his shoulders, the defined lines of his chest, the pale skin stretched over hard muscle beneath the morning light.

He was pale. Very pale.

And suddenly she found herself remembering the stories people used to whisper about him.

The Night Fox.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Pale skin beneath moonlight.

People frightened children with those stories. They said misfortune followed the Night Fox wherever it wandered. Crops failed. Homes turned silent. Hearts became heavy.

Once, when she had been younger, those stories had frightened her too. She had asked her mother about them.

But her mother had only smiled softly and told her the real story.

The Night Fox chooses those already hurting. It stays beside lonely children so they do not have to fear the dark alone. And when those children eventually grow strong enough to change their fate, frightened people blame the fox instead of admitting the truth.

So if you ever see a small shadow watching kindly beneath the moon, do not run. It may simply be making sure you are not afraid.

That was why she had stood beside Theron that day instead of listening to others.

Why even after her parents died, she had never fully blamed him.

And when he had returned to her again... when he cared for her so gently... she had truly believed he was her Night Fox.

But what if she had been wrong? 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Realizing she had stared far too long, Aveline quickly turned her face away.

Theron watched the faint redness spreading across her cheeks before speaking again.

"Those men with the fire... they were bounty hunters."

As he spoke, he reached over and draped his robe over her shoulders properly. Even when she tried to push it away out of stubbornness, he firmly pulled it back around her.

Eventually, Aveline gave up resisting and listened quietly instead.

"My betrothed comes from a powerful family," Theron said carefully.

Aveline pouted immediately.

"I’m the daughter of a viscount too," she muttered.

The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to bury herself alive. Why had she said that like she was trying to compare herself to that woman? There was no competition to begin with. Theron did not want to marry her.

And besides...

She had been a viscount’s daughter once. Now... she was an orphan with nowhere to go and nothing to her name.

Theron let out a quiet breath. He understood perfectly why she had said it. After all, she had openly asked him to marry her before.

"Those men," he continued softly, "she sent them after you."

His jaw tightened slightly. Leaving Aveline with others while the kingdom’s political situation remained this unstable had clearly been a mistake. She needed to understand the danger surrounding her now.

Aveline turned toward him fully.

"Why?" she asked.

But deep down, she already suspected the answer.

A woman only tried to eliminate another woman near her betrothed for two reasons—fear or possessiveness.

"Haven’t you told her how much you love her?" Aveline asked quietly.

Because both fear and possessiveness could be solved with honesty.

Theron looked at her for a long moment before lowering his eyes slightly.

This woman truly had no idea, did she?

"Did it ever occur to you," he asked quietly, "that I might not have another choice, Aveline? That it was not up to me who I marry?"

Aveline’s eyes widened.

She immediately sat upright, staring at him with sudden concentration.

Actually...

That made much more sense.

"So..." she said slowly, piecing things together in her head with complete seriousness, "you’re from an influential family too?"

Theron nodded.

Aveline leaned closer. "How influential?" she asked.

Theron’s hands clenched the sheets as the truth stuck in his throat.