CHAPTER 215: IN LOVE

Chapter 215

Felix

I watch as Poppy walks away.

What... was that?

Her words still echo in my head, sharp and cold in a way I’ve never heard from her before. Poppy isn’t the type to challenge me, let alone walk away from me in front of others. She’s always been... loyal. Quiet. Sweet.

Someone must have planted these ideas into her head.

My jaw tightens.

And I know exactly who.

She only started speaking like this after she met her.

Daphne Nyxclaw.

If she thinks she can drive a wedge between me and Poppy—between me and any of my

women—she’s about to learn exactly what kind of mistake she’s made.

Tonight, I’ll make sure she understands her place.

***

Daphne

Forget about the male lead and his drama my work there is done. The cracks are showing, and they’ll spread without my help.

Now... to pay attention to my bunny.

"Are you sure you don’t want to go down to dance?" I ask my sweet bunny, my voice warm, coaxing.

My tail curls around her waist like it belongs there. She doesn’t even flinch anymore. That small trust sends a rush of satisfaction through me.

"No, I don’t think I can handle that level of attention," she says. Her voice is quiet, but steady. I study her, realizing she’s serious.

"That’s fine," I say, smiling in a way that’s meant just for her. "Next time I’ll have a private ball for just us two."

Her ears twitch slightly at that, but she doesn’t answer.

"But," I add, tilting my head, "it would be a waste if you didn’t get to dance in this dress."

I take her hand gently. She looks up at me, and it’s like an arrow straight to my heart.

She’s so cute. No—literally. Cuteness personified.

Those eyes, those ears... I want to eat her and keep her.

I take her hand and guide her away from the noise and heat of the ballroom, down the marble staircase, past flickering lanterns, until we’re out at the back of the castle.

The night air greets us, crisp and cool, carrying only the faintest threads of the orchestra’s music. Ahead, the moonlight spills over the garden’s heart—a domed pavilion of silver and pale stone, its pillars gleaming like they’ve been carved just for this moment.

Perfect.

I lead her up the shallow steps. Inside, the air feels softer somehow, sheltered under that sweeping dome. The polished floor catches the light, reflecting her dress back at her like a quiet compliment.

I turn to face her, taking her hand again before sliding the other to her waist. "Surely," I murmur, pulling her just close enough, "this is private enough for a dance?"

She tries to fight it—oh, I can see it in the way her lips press together, the way her ears flick ever so slightly—but then, there it is: the smile.

Drawing her closer, my palm resting at the small of her back, feeling the faint warmth beneath the fabric. The orchestra’s distant notes float in from the ballroom, softened by the night air and the whisper of leaves.

"Just follow my lead," I murmur, swaying us into the faint rhythm only we can hear. My tail tightens its curl around her waist—not to hold her prisoner, but to remind her she’s not escaping me.

She’s light in my arms, her steps hesitant at first, like ababy deer taking it’s first steps. I guide her through a slow turn, letting moonlight catch in her hair, in the slope of her ears, in the soft line of her throat.

She’s beautiful—too beautiful—and it’s always astonishing to me, the way I keep falling in love with her.

Over and over, in all her different forms.

The celebrated actress who could hold an audience breathless, the untouchable duchess who made courts tremble, the deadly assassin who literally almost killed me our first interaction... and now, impossibly, a bunny who has me wrapped around her little finger without even trying.

I twirl her, then dip her waist, just enough to hear that soft, bright laugh escape her lips.

It’s a beautiful sound—one I’d hold onto forever if I could.

I can’t even remember who I was before her, before this, it’s been ages I mean over a hundred years after all.

I don’t know how many more years, decades, or lifetimes I’ll have to keep going like this. But the only thing keeping my sanity intact is the that she’ll be there.

Somewhere. Always. I hope.

I place her back on her feet, but she stumbles just slightly. My hands tighten instinctively on her waist, steadying her before she can even think about falling.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it?" I murmur, still holding her close enough that I can feel the quick rise and fall of her breath.

"I guess so," she says, the faintest smile tugging at her lips—like she doesn’t want me to know she enjoyed it, but can’t quite hide it either.

"Well, my duty is done," I say, stepping back just enough to let the cool night air slip between us. With a flourish, I bow low, never breaking eye contact.

Then I take her hand, lifting it gently, and press a deliberate kiss to her knuckles—slow, as if sealing an unspoken vow.

"It’s been an honor, my lady," I murmur, my gaze locked on hers, daring her to look away first.

Her nose wrinkles ever so slightly, ears flicking in that way that tells me she’s fighting a smile.

"Another dance?" I ask, catching the faint rise of a new song from the orchestra. Before she can reply, I pull her gently back into my arms—expecting maybe a laugh, maybe a playful protest.

Instead, she stuns me.

She leans in, light as a breath, and rises onto her tiptoes. The tiniest kiss brushes my lips—so fleeting I almost think I imagined it—before she slips away.

By the time my brain catches up, she’s already halfway across the garden, running like a startled rabbit.

I stay there, unmoving, my pulse pounding in the echo of her touch.