Annia
The sun's rays hit my face. I forgot to close the curtains. I barely slept a wink last night, and now fatigue weighs on me like a stone.
With an effort, I drag myself out of the covers and head to the bathroom. The first thing I see is my reflection in the mirror: the dark circles under my eyes are horrendous, a testament to my lack of rest.
I turn on the bathtub faucet to fill it with water while I gather everything I need to prepare the bath from the shelf. I light lavender-scented candles and sprinkle bath salts in the water, seeking some calm amidst the chaos.
I take off my pajamas to immerse myself in the warm water, letting the scent of lavender permeate the air, enveloping me in a bubble of tranquility that, for a moment, manages to silence the chaos in my head.
My mind, however, doesn't allow me to completely disconnect. The images from last night are still there, floating on the surface of my consciousness. Black, his impenetrable gaze, the words that changed everything I thought I knew about myself.
I close my eyes and slide a little deeper into the water, letting the warmth ease the tension in my muscles.
When I finally step out of the bath and wrap myself in a towel, I hear a soft knock on my bedroom door.
"Annia," Mom's voice sounds calm, but there's an implicit charge in her tone. "Are you awake?"
I rush to open the door. Her expression is neutral, but her eyes scan my face carefully.
"You look exhausted," she says simply. "Are you sure everything is okay?"
I swallow.
"Yes, Mom. I just slept badly."
She doesn't say anything else, but her gaze remains fixed on me for a few seconds before she nods slowly.
"Get some rest." You have a photoshoot this afternoon.
When he leaves, I sink onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Then something changes.
The tension in the air thickens, like a silent warning that I'm not alone.
I sit up slowly, and that's when I see him. Black is inside the room. He's opened the windows.
"Do you always show up in people's rooms like this?" I murmured, sitting slowly on the bed, trying to ignore the chill running down my spine.
He didn't respond right away. His eyes locked on mine, as if gauging my every reaction.
"I don't usually barge into rooms," he said finally, his voice low. "But I wanted to make sure you were okay."
I didn't know whether to thank him or yell at him for invading my space, so I just stared at him, feeling the weight of everything his presence here meant.
His eyes remained fixed on mine until, with calculated steps, he approached my bookshelf. His fingers slowly ran along the spines of my books, stopping on one he knew all too well.
"Tristan and Isolde. Very good choice."
His voice was deep, calm, as if he were truly evaluating my choice.
He stared at the book for a few seconds before shifting it between his hands, his fingers tracing the cover with almost reverent precision.
"A story of tragic love, betrayals, and unbreakable destiny," he murmured. "Is it one of your favorites?"
I didn't know whether to answer. Part of me was still trying to process the fact that he was here, inside my room, talking about literature as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"It is," I finally answered, crossing my arms.
Black nodded, still staring at the pages.
"Funny," he said. Most human stories of love and sacrifice have one thing in common: the desire to challenge the impossible.
"Why are you here, Black?" I finally asked, my voice steady.
He gently looked up from his book and regarded me with that intensity of his, the kind that seemed to pierce through me effortlessly.
"Because the impossible is closer than you think."
The weight of his words hung in the air, thick, trapping me in a tangle of thoughts that wouldn't quite fit.
That's when I looked down... and realized.
I was still in a towel.
Heat rose to my cheeks in a matter of seconds. I crossed my arms more tightly, feeling the damp fabric stick to my skin.
"You know, it would be less awkward if you weren't staring at me as if I were fully clothed," I blurted out, my voice a little strained.
Black looked up from his book, tilting his head slightly.
"Interesting observation," he replied with frustrating calm. "But if it's any consolation, I barely noticed the towel."
"Really?"
He shrugged with a slight smile, as if he didn't understand my sudden discomfort.
"I was more focused on your choice of reading material. Although, if you prefer, I can feign surprise at the outfit."
I rolled my eyes and turned toward the closet, feeling his gaze still on me.
"You could just wait outside," I growled.
"I could," he agreed. "But then I'd miss your reaction to me still being here when you come out."
I turned to look at him in disbelief.
"You're unbearable."
Black propped the book on the shelf and gave me a look of false innocence.
"So they say."
I grabbed the first piece of clothing I found and ducked behind the bathroom door, slamming it shut. From the other side, I heard his amused voice.
"Don't worry, Annia. Noctisvael has fairly flexible dress codes."
I sighed, unable to decide whether I wanted to strangle him or laugh.
When I stepped outside, he was still there.
Obviously.
No matter how hard I tried to deny it, he was a man who would make anyone sigh. That intimidating height, at least six feet two inches, his white hair falling past his shoulders, giving him a dangerous air. His toned body, fitted into the dark clothes, seemed sculpted to perfection.
God, Annia, what the hell are you thinking? You can't look at him like that. No.
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts.
"What are you doing here?" I asked again, as if that would give me back control of the situation.
Black turned and took a few steps closer.
"We need to agree on your training. You need to know your abilities and, more importantly, learn how to defend yourself."
My body tensed.
"Train?"
He nodded.
"My house is south of the forest. We have enough space to practice without human eyes watching us."
"Do you have a house?"
He gave me a smug smile.
"Of course. We had to adapt when we came to this world."
My eyes scanned him before I said with amusement, "I'm sorry."
"Although, apparently, clothing wasn't included in that adaptation."
Black looked at himself in the full-length mirror to his right.
"What? Why?"
"Your clothes... they're from your world."
He nodded calmly.
"That's exactly why. I prefer to maintain my identity."
I rolled my eyes.
"If you're going to move among humans, you need to fit in. You look like you're from the Middle Ages. The outfit you wore yesterday made sense for the occasion, but you don't have to wear it all the time."
Black let out a small sigh.
"How old are you?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"One hundred and four."
I blinked.
"No, seriously, how old are you?"
"One hundred and four."
My jaw dropped.
"That's scientifically impossible," I managed when I recovered. You'd be an old man, and yet you look my age.
Black inclined his head patiently.
"In this world it would be impossible, but not in ours. You're twenty-five now, and you'll maintain that look until you're one hundred."
"Okay..." I drawled, absorbing the information. I was starting to get used to the fact that every day brought a new revelation to process.
I sighed.
"Anyway, you need to adjust your style... and so does your brother. Speaking of which, where is he?"
"With your friend."
My eyes widened in alert.
"With Lucia?!"
"Yes. She's close to you, and we must protect all the people Yahar might harm to reach you."
My stomach sank.
"Close people... my mom?"
Black held my gaze firmly.
"So far, I've taken care of both." Most of the time you're at the fashion agency, which made things easier. But now that you'll be in training, it's impossible for me to keep an eye on them alone. That's why I'll bring someone to help us.
"Is that someone trustworthy?"
"Yes. It's the same one who told me Yahar knows you're here. His name is Milosh, and he's my best friend. You shouldn't worry."
I nodded, even though something heavy lodged in my chest. I wasn't sure. I couldn't allow my mother to be unprotected. If something happened to her, I'd never forgive myself.
"Fine, but we'll be keeping an eye on her too. Not just your friend."
Black nodded without arguing, which calmed me down a little.
I walked over to my nightstand, picked up my cell phone, and dialed Lucía's number, putting it on speakerphone.
"Annia, good morning. Guess what?" her cheerful voice sounded when she answered.
"Let me guess... you woke up and the first thing you saw was a handsome young man in your living room?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, laughing.
I rolled my eyes.
"Luci, I'll pick you up in a bit."
"Where are we going?"
I glanced at Black.
"Shopping."
I could clearly see her rolling her eyes in obvious annoyance.