You're not a monster nor a savior

Chapter 10

The room was dim, the only light spilling in from the moon through the half-drawn curtains. The faint silver glow traced along the sharp lines of Madara's bare chest, the rise and fall of his breathing slow but heavy. The scent of sweat and heat lingered in the air, the sheets tangled around their legs in a disheveled mess that bore witness to the chaos of the night.

Maria lay beside him, her hair spilling over the pillow in loose, wild strands, her silver eyes half-lidded but still shimmering in the moonlight. She was breathing just as heavily, her chest rising and falling in time with his. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them charged with the remnants of what they'd just shared.

Madara's gaze lingered on the ceiling, his expression unreadable, though the faintest curve tugged at the corner of his lips. Maria noticed.

"What?" she asked, her voice husky from exertion.

"Nothing," Madara said, though his eyes shifted toward her. "You're quieter than I expected afterward."

Maria smirked faintly. "Give me a minute to recover before I start giving you more trouble." She shifted closer, the warmth of her body pressing against his side, her fingers tracing idle circles on his skin.

He caught her hand, stilling it. "You never stop pushing, do you?"

"You like it," she countered without missing a beat.

Madara's dark eyes held hers for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. Slowly, his grip on her hand loosened, letting her continue her lazy motions across his chest. "Perhaps," he admitted, his voice low, almost a growl.

Maria tilted her head, studying him. "You gonna tell me what's going on in that head of yours, or do I have to pull it out of you the same way I got you here?"

His gaze hardened for an instant, then softened—if only slightly. "You're persistent. That can be dangerous."

"Only for you," she teased.

Madara exhaled slowly, the ghost of a smirk returning. "We'll see about that."

The silence returned, but it was warmer now, not sharp or defensive. Maria shifted even closer, her leg brushing against his, her head finding its place against his shoulder. Madara allowed it, his hand resting on the small of her back.

They stayed like that for a while—two warriors, neither willing to fully drop their guard, yet neither pulling away. Outside, the night pressed on. Inside, the air remained heavy with the aftermath of their encounter, their breaths slowly calming in unison.

"You're still impossible," Maria murmured.

"And yet," Madara replied, his voice a quiet rumble, "you're still here."

She smiled against his skin. "For now."

His smirk deepened. "That's all I need."

Scene Change

The morning air in Vale was crisp and thin, the kind that seemed to bite at the skin the moment you stepped outside. Inside the quiet inn room, however, the heat from the night before still clung faintly to the rumpled sheets. Madara was already awake, standing at the far side of the room with his shirt halfway on, fastening the cuffs with slow precision.

Maria sat at the edge of the bed, silver eyes tracking his every movement with that unreadable expression of hers—a mix of curiosity, stubbornness, and faint amusement. Her hair was still slightly tousled, and the faint bruise-like shadow of exhaustion sat beneath her eyes.

"You're up earlier than I expected," she said finally, her voice still gravelly from sleep.

Madara didn't bother glancing over. "Old habits. And unlike you, I don't believe in lingering in bed when there's work to be done."