To Love A Villain-Chapter 84: Bonus - 1 : If- The Space Between Laughter and Want
Chapter 84: Bonus Chapter 1 : If- The Space Between Laughter and Want
This isn’t necessarily canon... I might make it canon. We’ll decided by the end of the book
>>Third person pov
The late afternoon sun cast golden stripes across the floor of the bedroom, filtered through the pale linen curtains that swayed softly with the breeze from the open window. Hael lay on the thick cream rug, eyes shut and limbs limp, pretending to be the latest casualty of Mage Zola the Mighty.
She sat astride his chest, a wild mess of light black waves haloing her head, her pink knight dress slightly askew, her cheeks flushed with triumph. "Got you!" she declared, thrusting her tiny fists in the air as though she had felled a giant.
Hael cracked open one eye and groaned. "Oh no. Not again. How can the greatest mage be beaten again?"
Zola collapsed in a fit of laughter, sliding down to lie beside him on the rug. Her giggles were high and unfiltered, the kind that bubbled straight out of her soul and forced a matching grin onto his face.
He turned to her, tapping her nose gently. "It seems you’re the strongest mage in all the kingdoms."
"And the fastest," she added proudly.
"And the silliest," he said, pretending to poke her belly, earning another shriek of joy. He could have stayed like this forever—her laughter in his ears, the sunlight wrapping them in warmth, the world kept at bay outside their door.
It was a sanctuary to him. One he had never even dreamed of having.
They played until her limbs grew heavy with the first hints of fatigue. Hael pulled her into his lap, rocking slowly while humming a tune she always asked for—something gentle, something old. Her small body softened against his chest, fingers curling around a lock of his shirt as her breathing began to slow.
"Papa," she mumbled into his neck, voice already thick with sleep.
"Yes, little mage?"
"I love you big."
He kissed the top of her head, cradling her more tightly.
Her breathing began to even out, lashes fluttering, the last remnants of wakefulness giving way to the weight of a good day well spent.
Then, a sound—soft, subtle—the creak of a door opening.
Hael’s gaze shifted toward the en-suite bathroom, expecting perhaps the quiet click of Amber grabbing something and returning to whatever she was doing. But instead, she stepped out fully.
Naked.
A cloud of steam billowed around her for a moment, like a veil of mist trailing behind her form. Amber blinked at the brightness of the bedroom, clearly having expected to grab a towel and sneak back in unnoticed. Her eyes went wide when she spotted him, but she didn’t shrink away. She stood still, water glistening on her skin, the last trails of moisture sliding over her hips and thighs like droplets of light.
"I forgot the towels," she said, voice level, casual—far too casual for the way she looked.
Hael’s breath caught.
He was still. Paralyzed by the heat that surged through him so swiftly it was dizzying. Amber stood bathed in sunlight, her bare skin glowing, her dark light waves damp and falling over one shoulder. He hadn’t seen her like this in a while—not quite this unguarded, this raw. There was nothing posed or deliberate about it. Just her. Clean, bare, real.
And stunning.
His heart pounded, a slow, heavy rhythm that filled his chest and his ears. She moved toward the closet, steps quiet on the floorboards, and his gaze trailed every movement—the curve of her spine, the flex of muscle beneath smooth skin, the delicate slope of her shoulder. He swallowed hard, still clutching their daughter against his chest, as though that tether to reality was the only thing keeping him from getting up and crossing the room.
She glanced back, towel in hand now, and caught his eyes—his hungry, burning eyes—and for just a flicker of a second, her lips parted in the faintest of smirks. A knowing one.
But she said nothing else. She slipped back into the bathroom, the door closing softly behind her, leaving only silence—and the pounding of his pulse.
Hael let out a long, low breath, closing his eyes.
Zola murmured something in her sleep, shifting gently in his arms. He looked down at her, her perfect little face calm and unaware of the inner war raging in her father’s head.
"Of all the times," he muttered under his breath with a small, tortured laugh.
The fire in his blood didn’t fade—it curled, coiled, waiting, barely restrained.
He slowly stood, careful not to wake her, and walked her over to the oversized bed. He laid her down gently among the pillows, tucking her blanket around her shoulders and brushing a lock from her cheek. She sighed, but didn’t stir.
Hael sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, elbows on his knees, head down, willing the heat inside him to settle.
Amber had no idea what she’d done. Or maybe she did.
That look in her eye had said something. It had promised something. And Hael wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending like he wasn’t starving for her. For that closeness again.
He waited until Zola’s breathing became deep and steady.
Then he rose, quietly, and crossed the room.
He moved slowly, every step careful not to creak the floorboards. The light from under the bathroom door cast a faint glow on the wood. His hand hovered for a second before he turned the handle and stepped inside.
The warmth hit him first. The air was thick with steam, scented with amber and vanilla—her body wash. The mirror above the sink was fogged, and Amber stood near it, towel now wrapped loosely around her, damp hair clinging to her neck. She was dabbing at her cheeks, wiping away leftover moisture with a smaller towel.
She caught his reflection in the mirror and met his eyes.
"You got her to sleep?" she asked softly, not turning around.
"Just now," he said, voice low and rough. He closed the door behind him.
Amber’s eyes drifted down in the mirror, watching him approach. "I wasn’t trying to tease you," she said. But there was a hint of something playful in her tone. "I really did forget the towels."
"I know," he said. He was behind her now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. "But then you looked at me like that."
Amber turned slowly, and the towel slipped just a little, baring her collarbone, the top curve of her breast. "What look?"
He stared at her—her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted, the softness in her eyes mixed with challenge. It wasn’t the look that had undone him, not really. It was everything.
"Like you wanted something," he murmured, his hand reaching out, but stopping just before touching her.
Her breath caught, just barely. "Hael..."
"I’ve been trying to be patient." His voice was low, threading through the silence between them. "But today, seeing you..." He let out a breath. "You made me forget everything else for a second."
She stepped closer, the towel rustling between them. Her hand rose to his chest, palm resting lightly above his heart.
The low amber light was on, casting golden reflections on the tile and misting mirror.
He snapped his finger, the shower started again.
His wife stepped to the side, letting the towel fall off of her as she let her skin be drenched again.
Hael watched with lust filled eyes.
Amber stood under the stream of the shower, her back to him, water cascading down her curves like molten glass
It was clear what this was
-an invitation, silent but clear.
Hael stripped quietly, using his magic to assist him while Amber sneakily turned to look at him. From the corner of her eyes she looked at his body.
He then stepped in behind her, the warm mist wrapped around him, thick with the scent of her shampoo and something deeper—her skin, her presence, the memory of that earlier look.
Amber turned her head slightly. Her eyes met his over her shoulder, heavy with heat, soft with welcome.
Neither spoke.
