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“I—sorry,” he stammers, his voice soft and precise, every word crisp but shaken. “I was under the impression this suite was assigned to me for the term. I didn’t expect anyone else.” He steps inside, closing the balcony door behind him. His movements are weirdly graceful, like he’s not used to the weight of his own body. He looks at me—olive-gold eyes, sharp cheekbones, lips that look too soft for this world. He’s beautiful. Not pretty. Not handsome. Beautiful, in a way that makes my chest hurt. I drop my bags harder than I need to, jaw tight. “Yeah, well, me neither. I was supposed to have a single.” He nods, looking genuinely unsettled. “I also requested privacy. This is… unexpected.” For a second, we just stare at each other, both of us sizing up the disaster. The scent in the room is stronger now—rain, spice, wildflowers, and something I can’t name. My heart’s racing. I want to punch something. Or maybe I want to kiss him. What the f*ck is wrong with me? *** When the fae prince went to Earth to fulfil his duty to study and understand Earthling culture and diplomatic relationships, he was not expecting this. He knew his touch was dangerous to humans, and his scent a constant lure that he would have to fight and try to hide to prevent any complications. He was supposed to spend a whole year living under the radar, studying humans in the distance, not sharing a room with one, and not with one so… fascinating. Cyrus is a complete mystery. Cold, distant, guarded… but at the same time sweet and protective, in ways that make Cornelius’ heart race and his knees fail. Cornelius never had friends, not really. Growing up as a prince, his title kept everyone at an arm's distance. The ones who approached him always did so with ulterior motives, to gain the crown’s favour. At his one hundred and twenty-six years of age, he has never had someone to call a friend, let alone someone to love. Sure, a lot of his guards and servants are always nice to him, but the difference in their ranks never let Cornelius feel like it was fairly reciprocated. He has always had lovers, many of them, but it never felt more than a temporary escape for relief, something that did very little to fill the empty void in his heart. But Cyrus… Cyrus is breaking his walls, one by one, and claiming every inch of his soul and Cornelius… Cornelius is f*ck*ng scared. Can he let himself love a human? How can they possibly make it work? He doesn’t have answers, yet Cyrus manages to question it all, to imprint his name in the depths of his core against all odds, ready to shred his world to crumbs and to fight fate just to stay by his side, to love HIM. And Cornelius doesn’t know how to resist that. Or if he even wants to.