Sweet Hatred Chapter 232: "Did you have fun?"

I didn’t see it coming.

Not on my mouth, no, that would’ve made more sense. This was worse. Sneakier.

Intimate.

Right against my cheekbone.

Warm. Featherlight. So unexpected it short-circuited every nerve in my spine.

I turned to him, slowly. "What the hell was that for?"

Sylas grinned, infuriating and pleased. "You’re finally looking at ."

"What—" My mouth fell open, brow hung. "Excuse ?"

"You were too busy sneaking glances at Mr. Grumpy across the floor."

I nearly choked. "I wasn’t—!"

He arched a brow.

Okay. Maybe I had. Once. Or twice. Or a dozen goddamn tis.

"So," Sylas drawled. "What is the story with you and him anyways? You two lovers? Rivals? Arranged tragedy by fate?"

My lips parted. Closed. I had nothing.

"Thought so." His grin widened.

I narrowed my eyes. "What’s that supposed to an?"

He said nothing and just smiled.

But the music shifted then, sultry strings rising like tension, low bass murmuring under the polished beat. The crowd’s energy slowed with it, slipping into sothing more... deliberate. Intimate.

And Sylas?

He didn’t hesitate.

He leaned in close, his breath brushing the column of my neck, lips hovering like he was inhaling .

"I couldn’t forget your face, you know," he whispered.

I shivered.

"That night. On the beach." His voice was silk and sin. "I went back. Hoping you’d show up again."

I pulled back just enough to see his expression. That look, God, that look, it was teasing, yes. But sothing darker glimred underneath. Sothing not so playful.

"What are you playing at?" I asked softly.

His smile curved. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Then he leaned away. Just a little. Just enough to drive insane if I actually cared.

"It’s a secret," he murmured.

And before I could even process what the hell that ant...

"Well, well..."

The voice slithered through the slow song like a blade between skin and silk.

"Am I interrupting sothing?"

He didn’t need to shout. His voice didn’t need to be loud to make the whole world go still. It was calm. Polished. Deceptively pleasant. But it hit like a gun cocked under silk.

My pulse stuttered.

I turned. Slowly. Like I already knew who it was, like my body had sensed him the mont he approached us.

Kael.

Standing tall, terrifyingly still, one hand at his back, the other holding a half-full glass like it wasn’t taking everything in him not to crush it. His golden mask was pushed slightly up his face now, revealing his chiseled jaw tight enough to crack stone. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath.

Green. Glowing. Glinting. Ravenous. Hungry for sothing he wasn’t sure he had the right to take anymore.

Before I could even muster a word, Sylas, unbothered as ever, sighed. "Yes. You are."

I winced.

But Kael didn’t even blink. Didn’t even look at him.

His gaze stayed locked on , like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. Then he said, in a voice calm enough to cause earthquakes,

"I wasn’t asking you."

Oh fuck.

Sylas’s grip on my waist tightened, just a notch. His voice dipped lower. "She’s my date tonight. You didn’t know?"

My heart slamd against my ribs. I tried to move but my feet had turned to marble.

Kael’s smile was razor sharp. "Is that true, Aria?"

I turned to Sylas. Then back to Kael. And decided to let go.

Sylas didn’t resist. He didn’t need to. His smirk just curved sharper as if to say, This isn’t over.

Kael’s hand appeared between us, palm open, waiting.

I reached for it. But before my fingers could graze his, Sylas’s voice cut again, lower this ti, soft like a secret.

"You don’t have to go with him... if you don’t want to."

I turned my head. And there it was, concern. Real concern in Sylas’s eyes. The kind that made my chest throb with guilt.

But before I could speak,

"She wants to," Kael said.

I blinked.

His hand was still there. Steady. Absolute.

"She’s just trying not to feel guilty for letting soone else look at her the way I do."

Sylas’s eyes flared.

"You talk like she’s your property. Did you forget your own words from earlier?"

Kael finally turned to him, calm as midnight. "No. I talk like I know what I built from the ground up, and I don’t appreciate squatters thinking they can stay for free."

And there it was.

That low, threatening hum under Kael’s words that made your spine shiver and your knees tremble.

Sylas stepped forward, jaw tight, "You’re so used to owning people you forgot what it looks like when soone chooses to leave you."

My breath hitched.

Kael smiled then. Smiled. Not the kind that said I’m fine. The kind that said you just made the worst mistake of your life.

"She can leave whenever she wants," he murmured. "She just never does."

That’s when I stepped between them, heart pounding, sweat blooming across my back, my fingers grasping Kael’s wrist before he could say more.

"We’re going," I whispered.

I didn’t know who I was talking to. Kael didn’t even answer. He just shoved the glass in his other hand to a waiter passing by and pulled . Firmly. Possessively.

I barely got a look at Sylas, standing in place with that unreadable expression on his face.

Kael didn’t speak as we left the ballroom. Through the hallway. Through gold and marble and dim corridors lit by flickering sconces. My heels echoed against the stone. His silence pressed against my skin like a cage.

I didn’t know where we were going.

I didn’t care.

He stopped at a door, unmarked, carved with delicate black vines. So discreet room tucked behind the garden terrace.

He opened it. Pushed in. Closed the door behind us.

And then I was against the wall.

His breath against mine. His hand at my throat. His rage vibrating through my ribcage like thunder.

It hit the second we’re in the room.

That scent. Smoky. Aged. Ferocious.

Kael.

And sothing else.

Sothing sharp and expensive curling off his skin like war in a bottle. It clinged to him in waves, tangled with his cologne and the tension vibrating off his body.

"You’re drunk," I murmured.

He stared at like a man on the edge of sothing, violence or worship, I couldn’t tell. "Did you have fun?"