A Love Story With One Willing Participant    

[IRAYA]

The moment I stood, my legs wobbled like a newborn deer, and before I could steady myself, the world tilted.

Shit—I was falling.

But instead of hitting the ground, strong arms caught me, pulling me against a firm chest.

Lyander's chest.

I froze.

His grip was steady, warm—his scent a mix of cigarette smoke and something deeper, darker. His face was close, too close, and the damned smirk on his lips sent every single nerve in my body into a riot.

"Be careful now," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "That's already the second time you've fallen for me."

My brain short-circuited.

And before I could stop myself—before I could even think—my fist shot up, and I punched him square in the face.

There was a brief pause.

Then Lyander chuckled, rubbing his jaw.