CHAPTER TWELVE
Thieran POV
On the second floor of the Alden estate, there's a balcony with four chairs and a view that stretches all the way to the edge of the ocean. On most days, it's just another scenic spot, but to me, it's sacred ground.
This is our spot.
Mine and Rami's.
It started years ago, maybe when we were still teens and everything was chaos and training and trying to pretend our hormones weren't screwing us over. Somehow, this place became our escape. Our silence. Our... almost.
Right now, I'm stretched across his chest, one leg thrown lazily across his, my ear pressed just above his heart.
There are other chairs, sure. But why would I use them when I have Rami?
He traces lazy circles on my back, the pads of his fingers pressing gently through my shirt. Usually, it gives me butterflies. Right now, it makes me feel safe.
I glance up at him. His eyes are closed, lashes long. The silver of his lip ring glints in the afternoon sun.
I lift my hand and tug on the ring gently with my thumb.
No reaction.
I do it again.
Still nothing.
A third time—this one firmer.
His hand shoots up and traps mine with infuriating ease.
"I swear, you're like a cat," he murmurs, lips twitching.
"Meow," I say dramatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
Then without warning—
"Kyaaaaa!" I scream when he attacks my waist. His fingers dig in and I explode into laughter, squirming and thrashing, trying to escape.
I'm extremely ticklish.
He flips us over and we fall to the floor in a mess of limbs and shrieking, my laughter echoing off the stone. Just before the back of my head hits the tiles, his hand slips beneath me, catching me.
I blink up at him, still panting. His hair falls forward, a curtain of dark silk around his face. In the sunlight, his normally stormy eyes shift warm—rich, earthy brown.
His gaze dips.
To my lips.
I forget how to breathe.
I wet my lips nervously.
His eyes track the motion.
For a moment—just one stupid, hopeful second—I think this is it. He's going to kiss me.
My heart gallops like a drunk deer. I tilt my head up slightly, just in case—
And he pulls away.
Of course he does. I never learn my lesson do I?
He sits up, running a hand through his hair. The motion stretches his arm and the tattoo on his bicep flexes, catching the light like something out of a romance novel cover.
What lesson?
"Public space, people! No need to traumatize the nice, honest staff trying to make a living here!" a voice calls.
I groan.
"Go away, Niall," I mutter, sitting up and flipping him off.
He just snickers, all smug and annoying.
I swear, his revenge is coming. Maybe next time he takes a nap, I'll dye his hair neon pink.
Rami reaches down to help me up. I let him, because I'm dramatic, not ungrateful. Once I'm upright, I make a show of dusting off and then plop right back into his lap.
His arms come around me automatically, like they always do.
Niall raises a brow.
"You two sure you're not already mated?" he says.
"Do you ever shut up?" I ask sweetly.
"Not when you're this easy to provoke."
I roll my eyes.
"Shouldn't you be… wooing the poor guy you kidnapped?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
I caught a glimpse of him earlier. Ted. Golden hair, wary eyes. Way too pretty for Niall.
Anyone deserves better than Niall.
"He's… showering or something," Niall mutters, then sighs. It's heavy. Genuinely weary.
I blink.
"Niall?" I ask slowly. "Are you… okay?"
He scratches the back of his neck, face twisted in something that looks suspiciously like regret.
"So I take it he wasn't too thrilled about the whole kidnapping thing?"
He scoffs, but there's no fire behind it. Just a heavy, tired exhale and the kind of half-hearted glare that tells me he's more disappointed in himself than anyone else.
"Not at all," he mutters.
"I… didn't think it through. I'll admit, but I have a plan."
I raise a brow, already unimpressed.
"And that plan involved drugging him and bringing him here unconscious?"
Niall glares at me but the edge is dulled.
"I didn't say it was a good plan," he grumbles.
Rami chuckles under his breath. The soft sound vibrates through his chest beneath me.
"You're such a disaster," I say, nudging his shin with my foot.
Niall sighs again and shifts his weight, moving to lean against the balcony rail. The breeze catches the edge of his shirt and ruffles his black hair. He looks out toward the horizon, where the sea meets sky in a muted gold line.
"I just… want him to like me," he admits.
That vulnerability knocks the air from my lungs.
Rami must feel it too because his arms around me tighten slightly, drawing me in without a word. That small, silent comfort says everything.
Niall like likes him, like really likes him.
Real, terrifying, inconvenient, heart-pounding love.
Rami speaks softly for the first time since Niall arrived.
"Then apologize," he says, voice low and calm.
The sea breeze brushes through the silence that follows, carrying the faint scent of salt and warm moss.
Niall doesn't respond right away. He just stands there, fingers drumming against the railing.
Then, slowly, he nods.
"Thanks," he says without looking back at us.
"Brooding counselor."
I snort.
Niall glances at me with a lopsided grin.
"And you? No advice for your dearest twin?"
I shrug.
"Still recovering from the emotional trauma of discovering you have feelings."
He flips me off and vanishes back into the estate.
Rami laughs again, soft and close to my ear. I tip my head back, looking up at him, and for a moment our eyes catch.
He doesn't say anything, just brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Maybe one day he'll finally give into this pull between us.
Maybe soon.
But for now, I stay in his arms, watching the sea.
For now, this is enough.