Chapter 42: Want A Kiss
Zamian’s pupils narrowed as he noticed Mira’s subtle attempt to ignore his presence. Her body language was closed off, distant, and for someone like Zamian—used to being in control of every situation—it didn’t go unnoticed. His eyes darkened with concern. Mira, who usually met his gaze head-on, now seemed to be shrinking away, lost in her thoughts.
Before he could respond or even ask what was wrong, she turned and began to walk away, her steps hesitant but determined. The cool air brushed against her skin, a chilling contrast to the heat she felt radiating from her thoughts. Without a second’s hesitation, Zamian reached out, his large hand wrapping gently but firmly around her arm. The sensation of her cold skin made him frown slightly.
"Mira, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but unmistakably laced with worry. He bent down to her level, his usually impassive face etched with concern. His voice, though calm, held a depth of emotion that Mira hadn’t heard before. She paused, but her eyes remained distant, as though she were seeing something far beyond their current moment, something only she could comprehend.
"Mira..." he called again, this time a bit softer, coaxing her back to reality.
"I can hear you..." she murmured after a beat, her voice flat and almost lifeless. Before Mira could say more, her breath caught in her throat as Zamian, without warning, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. It wasn’t the rough, dominant gesture she would have expected from him, but a tender, almost hesitant embrace.
Zamian—cold, distant, and expressionless Zamian—was hugging her.
Her mind raced. His arms, strong and steady, encircled her, enveloping her completely in his warmth. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, the subtle tension in his muscles as if even he wasn’t sure what he was doing or why. His large frame seemed to swallow her small one, and for a brief moment, everything felt suspended, like they were the only two people in the world.
"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a softness in his tone that Mira had never heard before. "Don’t take out your anger on yourself. Pour it on me instead."
Mira’s heart skipped a beat. Zamian had never spoken to her like this, with such vulnerability. His words were like an unexpected gust of wind, sweeping away her defenses. She couldn’t comprehend it—why was he acting this way? Why now? She remained frozen in his arms, her mind racing to catch up with what was happening. Was this really Zamian, or was she dreaming?