CHAPTER 14 — The Forbidden Argument

POV: Soraya

The fortress feels too narrow for how fast my thoughts race. Every hallway echoes with whispers—Azhara’s insults, the bounty rumor, the market humiliation. But none of it claws at me as fiercely as Raevan’s silence. Ever since the bounty was announced, he has walked Ashra like a storm wrapped in human shape. Guards snap to attention when he passes, elders bow stiffly, even Azhara watches him with new caution. But he avoids me. And that avoidance fills my veins with something sharp and restless.

I find him in the upper courtyard at dusk. Warriors spar in the sand circle; torches burn low; the desert wind hums against the carved pillars. Raevan stands alone against the railing, looking over the fortress like he’s memorizing every flaw. His collar catches the last of the sun. The sight of him makes my chest tighten in a way I’m not ready to name.

I walk straight toward him before my courage can flee. “Raevan.”

He turns, eyes unreadable. “You should be resting.”

“I’m tired of resting,” I say. “We need to talk.”

His jaw ticks. “About what?”

“You defended me again today,” I say. “In front of Azhara. In front of everyone. Why?”

His gaze sharpens. “Because they were wrong.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He exhales slowly, as if reining something in. “Soraya—”

“No,” I cut in. “Why defend me if you belong to her?”

His shoulders stiffen. For a heartbeat, the world seems to stop breathing.

“You think I ‘belong’ to Azhara?” he asks, voice dangerously soft.

“Everyone in this empire keeps telling me that,” I snap. “Every court whisper, every glare, every ceremony. She told me herself. And you didn’t deny it. You stood beside her like—”

His voice cracks through mine. “Like what?”

“Like she’s your future,” I say. My chest twists painfully. “And I’m just the problem you dragged in from a desert.”

A muscle jumps in his cheek. “Is that what you think of yourself?”

“You haven’t exactly shown me otherwise,” I say. “You protect me, then avoid me. Care for me, then freeze me out. You act furious when others insult me, but you won’t look me in the eye long enough to explain why.”

His eyes burn. “You want explanations?”

“Yes!”

He steps closer. “Fine. I avoid you because every time I’m near you, every instinct in me—wolf and king—wants to tear down every rule that keeps you out of my arms.”

My breath catches.

He moves even closer. “I defend you because the thought of anyone calling you cursed makes something in me break.” His voice drops. “I protected you in the dungeon because you were shaking and hurt and still trying to save me.”

My heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“And Azhara?” I whisper.

He flinches. “Azhara is politics. Duty. An alliance forged years before we were even old enough to shift.”

“That’s not what it looked like,” I say, trembling. “You held her hand in front of the whole fortress.”

His voice cracks. “You have no idea what I wanted to do instead.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m already breaking too many rules for you,” he says harshly. “Because every elder watches us. Because I can’t afford for them to see me wanting the one person I shouldn’t.”

“Then stop wanting me,” I whisper.

“Tell me how,” he growls.

Silence cracks open between us. Torches hiss in the wind. My pulse is a drum in my throat.

“You make everything harder,” he says softly. “I’m trying to keep you alive. Not drag you into a war between duty and instinct.”

“Maybe I’m tired of being protected,” I say. “Maybe I want to matter for once—not as a burden, but as someone you see.”

His breath falters.

Then chaos breaks.

He grabs my wrist—not painfully, but with a desperate, restrained force—and pulls me into the shadows beneath the archway. His forehead touches mine, breaths tangled, heat rising between us.

“Soraya…” he warns.

“Don’t warn me,” I whisper.

Something inside him snaps.

His lips crash into mine.

The world dissolves. Heat floods through me, fierce and consuming. His hands cup my jaw, slide to my waist, anchoring me to him in a way that feels both forbidden and inevitable. My wolf rises, answering him with a certainty my mind can’t catch up to.

I gasp when he presses me against the wall, his breath ragged against my throat. “This is wrong,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t—”

“Then stop,” I breathe.

He doesn’t.

The tension shatters into raw need. His mouth traces the line of my neck; my fingers twist into his hair; everything burns. Every argument melts into the space between us. Every fear turns to fire. He lifts me slightly, body pinning mine with barely restrained hunger.

***

Morning slams into me like punishment.

I wake alone, gown rumpled, heart racing. The memory of his hands—his lips—burns across my skin. Shame and longing twist hard inside me. I gather my clothes with shaking fingers.

When I step into the hall, Raevan is there.

He looks as wrecked as I feel.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then I do the only thing I can: I walk past him without a word, spine stiff, breath uneven.

“Soraya,” he says softly.

I don’t stop. Because if I do, I’ll break all over again.