Page 55 of Caged By the Lich

Olvaar asked me not to leave because it's not safe, but guards don't stand outside my door or follow me around the halls. I really do believe he trusts me.

With a final squeeze of my hand, Athena turns and walks away, her golden curls catching the fading light. I watch until she disappears from view, a bittersweet ache in my chest.

Needing to clear my head, I decide to take a walk through the gardens. The air is heavy with the scent of night-blooming flowers, their dark petals unfurling in the twilight. As I round a corner, I hear low voices and instinctively slow my steps.

There, in a small clearing, stands Olvaar. He's surrounded by his advisors, his tall frame radiating authority. The sight of him hits me like a physical force, my breath catching in my throat.

My heart leaps unexpectedly, and no part of it is from fear. It's because I can't deny the way I feel about him, nor the way I love the power he exudes, the way his presence commands respect and fear in equal measure. It's intoxicating.

I lean against a nearby tree, drinking in the sight of him. This is Olvaar in his element – the feared demon lord, the master strategist. And yet, I know a side of him that these advisors will never see. The thought sends a thrill through me.

As I lean against the tree, lost in thought, Olvaar's gaze suddenly locks onto mine. Without missing a beat, he dismisses his advisors with a curt nod. They scatter like leaves in the wind, leaving us alone in the clearing.

My breath catches as he strides towards me, his presence filling the space between us. "Enjoying the view?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I straighten up, meeting his eyes. "Just admiring your leadership skills," I quip, feeling a rush of warmth at our easy banter.

Olvaar's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Care to join me for a walk?" He offers his arm, a gesture that still surprises me with its gentleness.

I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow, savoring the warmth of his skin against mine. "Lead the way."

We set off down a winding path, the garden's nocturnal beauty unfolding around us. Night-blooming flowers release their heady scent, and the soft rustle of leaves creates a soothing backdrop.

"How was your meeting with Athena?" Olvaar asks, his tone carefully neutral.

I glance up at him, touched by his effort to broach the subject. "It was good. Really good, actually. Thank you for arranging it."

He nods, his eyes softening. "I'm glad. Your happiness is... important to me."

The admission hangs in the air between us, weighty with unspoken emotions. We walk in companionable silence for a while, the rhythm of our steps in perfect sync.

I decide it's time for me to offer him a truth. Since he's given me so many.

"I never thought I'd feel so at home here," I admit softly, gesturing to the garden around us.

Olvaar's gaze is intense as he looks at me. "And I never thought I'd want someone to feel at home here," he replies.

We continue our stroll through the moonlit garden, and I find myself stealing glances at Olvaar. The way he moves is mesmerizing - fluid and powerful, like a predator at ease. His eyes scan our surroundings, ever vigilant, yet his posture remains relaxed. It strikes me how natural this feels, walking arm in arm with him through his domain.

As we pause near a trickling fountain, the realization hits me like a bolt of lightning. My heart races, and I can barely breathe. I don't just think that I love him.

I do love him.

I'm absolutely in love with him.

I want to be anywhere he is. I want those beautiful gray eyes on me, swirling with the gold and purple that seem to bereserved only for me. I want his hands on me, his kisses, his laughter and dry wit and anger. I want everything there is.

I want all of Olvaar.

The thought is terrifying and exhilarating all at once. How did this happen? When did he become the person I can't imagine living without?

I struggle to process this flood of emotions, and the part of me that has always kept my emotions at bay flares. It can't be real, can it? This man who struck fear into the hearts of demons, who took me from my home - how could I possibly love him?

Desperate for something to ground me, I turn to Olvaar. "Tell me something real," I blurt out, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at me, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. For a moment, I think he might not answer.

Then, his voice low and serious, he asks, "Do you want to know how I really got my nickname?"

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