The moonlight poured through the arched windows, painting silver lines across the cold stone floor.
Caveen stood by the window, trying to calm the fire in his chest. He had just seen Kylan leave her room, all smiles and warm glances. It shouldn't have meant anything.
But it did.
He clenched his fists.
He hated this—this weakness. This rage. This possessiveness he had no right to feel.
She wasn't his.
Not officially.
Not in the way that made the world recognize them.
And yet—
He stormed down the hall, pushed open the door to her chamber without knocking.
Lysandra looked up in surprise from her seat near the hearth, her long hair loose, the soft white fabric of her nightgown glowing in the firelight.
"Caveen?" she asked, standing up slowly.
He didn't say a word.
He crossed the room in three steps.
And then—
He kissed her.
Not gently.
Not with hesitation.
It was fierce, desperate, like he was trying to burn out the feelings that had taken root inside him.
Lysandra gasped into his mouth, shocked—but she didn't push him away.
His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, his body trembling not from lust—but from anger, from the confusion of his own heart.
But just as quickly—
He froze.
A sudden wave of memory slammed into him.
That night.
Her breathless voice whispering his name.
The scent of herbs and jasmine in the air.
The heat of her skin beneath his fingers.
And… the spell.
That faint shimmer of magic in the air before everything went dark with passion.
His eyes flew open.
He pulled away as if burned.
Lysandra's lips were red, her chest heaving, her eyes wide—not with desire—but something else.
Guilt.
She looked away, turning her face from him.
"Lysandra…" he whispered, the realization flooding his veins like ice. "I remember everything."
Flashback
Inside the hotel room, the world was a different kind of quiet. Not silence—but stillness. The kind that only came before something inevitable.
Caveen stood by the window, shirt half unbuttoned, hair tousled by the wind. The way he looked—half-wild, half-weary—made Lysandra's breath catch in her throat.
She had brought him here to be his donor. A perfect feature for her child.
This was the night of her full fertility.
The only night.
She stepped closer, her fingers shaking as she reached for his hand.
"Why did you really bring me here?" he asked, voice low, his golden eyes searching hers. "You've been strange since we arrived."
Lysandra hesitated.
Then answered honestly—for once.
"You are just so handsome tonight," she whispered seductly. ".Stay here with me for a night"
His brows pulled together. "Lysandra…"
Her lips silenced him.
The kiss was soft at first. Curious. Gentle.
But Caveen responded like a man starved. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as if afraid she might disappear. Their lips clashed again, harder this time—filled with something desperate and dangerous.
He carried her to the bed, laying her down with the reverence of a sinner before a shrine. Her body arched into him, heat blooming under his touch.
"Tell me to stop," he rasped against her throat, but his hands were already trailing fire down her skin.
She didn't.
She couldn't.
Because this was the only time she'd be allowed to love him.
Clothes fell away.
Gasps echoed in the shadows.
Their bodies moved like puzzle pieces finally fitting, like the stars themselves had bent down to watch.
Every touch etched a memory into her soul.
And every breath he took reminded her of what she was about to lose.
When it was over—when they lay tangled in the sheets, sweat cooling on their skin, hearts still racing—Caveen pulled her close, resting his chin against her forehead.
"I don't understand you," he whispered. "But tonight… it felt like something more."
Tears welled in her eyes.
It was more.
That was the problem.
She leaned up and kissed him again—soft, slow, like goodbye.
And then she whispered the incantation under her breath.
"Somnium oblivionis."
The dream of forgetting.
A gentle pulse of blue light escaped her fingers as she touched his temple.
He blinked. His body tensed for a moment—then relaxed.
"Sleep," she whispered, stroking his hair. "When you wake… you won't remember tonight. You'll think you went for a drink at the bar and passed out. That nothing happened."
His eyes fluttered shut.
Just like that, her plan was a success.
She kissed his cheek one last time. "I'll remember for both of us."
And with that… she rose, dressed in the dim light, and next Caveen then controls him to go back to his apartments.
End..
She said nothing.
He stepped back, breath ragged.
"That night… when we… You cast a love spell."
Still, she didn't meet his eyes.
"Say it," he demanded, voice low and rough. "Tell me it wasn't real. Tell me what I remember—what I felt—was just your damn enchantment."
Lysandra closed her eyes, her voice breaking. "I didn't mean to manipulate you. I—I panicked. My parents were pressuring me to marry Kylan. I wanted one night. One night where I wasn't alone. Where someone wanted me."
"You made me want you," he spat.
She finally looked at him, eyes shimmering. "No. … I just… I needed to have a child with you but didn't know that you are Prince Caveen. "
Caveen stared at her, chest rising and falling.
Everything was breaking.
"Is that the reason why you erase my memories?" he asked.
She nodded slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Yes. And because I knew… once I told you, it would all become real. And you'd hate me for what I did."
He looked at her.
Long and hard.
Then quietly—his voice devoid of its usual sharpness—he whispered:
"I don't hate you."
Lysandra blinked, confused. "Then why—?"
"But I don't trust you," he interrupted.
Not yet.
Not when everything felt like a lie wrapped in warmth and memory.
He turned, the scent of her still clinging to him, the ache in his chest raw and violent.
"I'll stay," he muttered. "For the child."
Then he walked out, leaving Lysandra alone, trembling with regret—and love she could no longer hide.