The Heartwood 茶葉

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he snorted, quiet and sharp, and raised a brow like her words were something sour he’d tasted before. his jaw flexed once, muscle ticking beneath scar, and he muttered—a fucking kingdom,—low under his breath, like the very idea of it offended him more than her presence ever could. his eyes found hers then, a slow burn, dark and dangerous, the weight of a man used to violence, not riddles. what, not worthy enough to serve me? he said it like a joke, but there was bite beneath the grin—his kind of joke always had teeth. he stepped closer, just enough to let her feel the edge in his calm, the tension in the space between them, sharp as drawn steel. you’re the one running, he added, voice rough, i’m just not stopping you. but he didn’t move away, didn’t turn his back—because deep down, part of him wanted to see if she would.