Sweet Hatred
Chapter 140: I think he would have liked her

Chapter 140: I think he would have liked her

KAEL’S POV

She stepped out, and I forgot how to fucking breathe.

The world dulled. Muted. Like someone turned the volume down on reality and cranked it all the way up on her.

Her dress clung to her like it was sewn by the gods with trembling hands. Each shimmer of fabric kissed her skin in the most maddeningly perfect way, like it wanted to worship her. And her hair—fuck. Soft waves that framed her face like she’d just strolled out of some ancient painting meant to ruin men. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and her lips—those lips—looked like they could burn down empires.

I’d seen her. Every inch of her. In the raw. In pain. In pleasure. I’d seen her collapse in my arms and cry herself to sleep in my shirt. But this?

This version of Aria made my chest ache.

She looked like she didn’t belong to this world. And I hated that everyone around me could see it too.

I noticed the shifting of eyes. The stunned silence. One of the guards actually leaned forward slightly, like a moth drawn to a fucking sun.

"Eyes down," I snapped. My voice was cold. Final. Deadly. "Now."

They obeyed instantly, like trained dogs.

I stepped forward, unable to stop myself. Every inch of me leaned into her gravity.

"You know," I began casually, "if anyone ever needed a standard for beauty—like a universal rule, a divine scale—they’d just need to see you right now."

Her eyes narrowed. "You’re laying it on too thick."

I smirked, circling her slowly. My hand found her waist, and I tugged her just a little closer. She felt delicate. Regal. Like velvet and power wrapped in a heartbeat.

"And here I thought I was being modest," I murmured, leaning in. "You look like a myth, Aria. Something stolen from the stars. I could write a war about you."

"I swear to God if you—"

I tilted her chin gently and leaned down, aiming for her lips—

But she turned her head.

Dodged me. Again.

My lips brushed her cheek, and she tensed.

"I’m serious," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "I said don’t touch me."

Something tightened in my chest. It wasn’t pain, not exactly. But it wasn’t pleasant either. Still, I kept my expression neutral, teasing.

"Even if I apologized?" I asked, voice low, curling around her ear.

Her shoulders twitched. "You didn’t even mean it."

"Did too," I murmured as I kissed the shell of her ear, nipping it gently. "I said sorry... with my mouth. And my tongue. And—"

"Leave me alone," she hissed, eyes darting to the staff nearby.

I grinned, unfazed. "Can’t."

"Kael—"

"I can’t, Aria," I said, a little too real now. My voice dropped. "If I leave you alone, I’ll die. That’s not dramatics. That’s biology. You’re in my blood now. You’re stitched into my bones. You breathe and I feel it in my ribs. You speak and I hear it in my skull."

She stared at me, stunned. Maybe blushing. Definitely flustered.

"I can barely stand straight," she mumbled, looking away. "You didn’t know when to stop."

That earned a slow, wicked smile from me. "I did stop. Eventually."

I kissed down her jaw. She tried to push me off, but her strength was a ghost.

"Your body," I whispered, "grounds me. Your voice quiets the noise in my head. You and Ivan—you’re the only ones who’ve ever... reached me. You understand what that means, Aria? You’re not just a drug. You’re the cure and the addiction."

She swallowed hard. Her eyes flicked up to mine, confused and flushed.

For a split second, I considered cancelling everything.

The wedding. The appearance. The performance.

I didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She was too radiant. Too soft and fierce all at once. Like someone would take one look at her and want to steal her away from me.

Maybe I should test her.

"We could always skip the wedding," I said slowly, brushing her cheek. "Go back. Talk. In private."

Her head snapped toward me, glaring. "After what they just put me through? The hair pulling, the corset torture, the stabbing me with eyeliner? I didn’t suffer for three hours to stay indoors, Kael."

I raised my hands in surrender, laughing. "Fine, fine. I surrender."

I opened the car door with a flourish, stepping aside like her own personal knight. "After you, goddess."

She rolled her eyes but stepped forward anyway.

And she definitely tried not to smile.

God, I loved her. More than anything.

And I was just getting started.

The car roared quietly, cocooning us in velvet silence as the city rolled by. She was looking out the window, her chin tilted slightly upward, her expression unreadable—but I knew. I knew she could feel me staring.

I couldn’t stop.

God, she was too much and somehow never enough. She existed like a secret prayer whispered between battles. Like the last gift left behind by the people who loved me enough to want me to survive this cruel world.

My mother, who never got to see who I became. Ivan, who told me no one would ever compare.

And I believed him. I believed him when he said that. I thought he was my first and last. The one person who could ever anchor me.

But then Aria came in, and I am terrified. Terrified because loving her—wanting her this much feels like a betrayal. Like I am cheating on grief itself.

Is it wrong to let someone else become the reason I breathe?

Is it insincere to find light again after I swore I’d live in the dark?

I don’t know.

But when I look at her—when I feel her presence pressing softly against the cracks in me—I think maybe it’s okay. Maybe love doesn’t replace. Maybe it adds. Maybe she’s not after Ivan. Maybe she’s because of him.

I think he would’ve liked her.

She shifted slightly. Still didn’t look at me. But her hand inched across the seat, fingers stretching out just enough.

And I—God, I reached for it like a man half-starved. Like touching her could convince the ghosts that I was still worth saving.

I kissed her hand. Pressed it to my mouth and closed my eyes. She didn’t speak. But she didn’t pull away.

And when the car pulled up to the wedding venue and the doors opened wide to lights and laughter and chaos—she still let me hold her hand.