My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 136

Chapter 136 Desert Whispers

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He reached to straighten the quilt over her. Fiona’s hand darted up in reflex, but his right hand caught her wrist, holding it fast.

His thumb brushed the fragile bones beneath her skin–half affectionate, half uncertain. Desire stirred again, yet he hesitated on the edge of another mistake.

“If you do not wish me to cling to you, Lord Soren, you had better keep your distance,” Fiona muttered, newly awake and impatience coloring her tone. She showed no sign of indulging him further.

He let the hush stretch until it felt as taut as a drawn bowstring. Then, with a voice barely above a night wind, he murmured, “Rest now.” Seeing the quiet, almost guarded way she curled beneath the quilts, whatever reckless spark had been flickering in his chest guttered and went dark.

At an hour when stars still clung to the sky, he caught the faint perfume of gardenias rising from the tangled bedding. For a man awake so late, every sense sharpened to pain; the fragrance needled his restraint until it felt impossible to keep still.

Deep inside a half–formed dream, Fiona sensed warmth brush her mouth—a hesitant, feather- light kiss that tugged her toward waking even as it tried to keep the dream intact.

Beyond the canvas walls, booted feet had already begun their morning march; in the army camp dawn meant drills, not drowsy lovers.

Half awake, she caught his lower lip between her teeth–a sharp rebuff meant to say no. Yet to Soren the sting felt perversely like invitation, the edge of mischief glinting beneath the pain.

He answered by sinking deeper, turning the brief clash into a slow, consuming kiss whose gravity neither of them could ignore.

Heat flared up his cheeks, racing to the rims of his ears until even the dawn–chilled air could not cool him.

By the time a brief silence had passed, Soren had risen and dressed. First light spilled through the seam in the canvas, striping his profile in pale gold and revealing eyebrows now schooled

into calm distance.

He tugged his cloak straight and spoke without looking at her. “I have to ride back to Jexburgh today. If something happens, send me word.”

Even stripped of the night’s intimacy, a trace of cool detachment slipped through his tone,

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11:43 Tue, Oct 14

Chapter 136 Desert Whispers

surfacing in the tiniest pauses he could not disguise.

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Had she been a sheltered maiden facing her first lover, such gentle coldness might have curdled into heartbreak.

Thankfully, she was not that girl.

She understood well the depth of resentment and unwillingness coiled inside him.

A man who despised every scheme had found himself trapped in one.

He paused, eyes flickering toward the smoldering lamp. “About your grandmother–I lost that wager and accept it.”

“As for everything else-” He let the words hang, unfinished.

In truth, he still had no decision he trusted.

“We’ll speak of the rest once you are back in Jexburgh.”

Discuss what, exactly? The question fluttered beneath her closed lids; though her body stayed still, her eyelashes trembled.

He studied her for a moment, then clarified in a quieter tone, “The Zonfrillo family and your Niven family won’t easily accept what has happened between us. When you return, we must decide how to tell our elders.”

She said nothing at all.

Marriage to him had never entered her plans, and never would.

Soren stepped back to the bedside and leaned down. Finding her fingers no longer numb, Fiona lifted her hand and delivered a ringing slap across his cheek.

The strike vented a pocket of resentment that had been burning in her chest.

To her surprise, he did not flare in outrage. The hauteur that once shielded him was gone; he simply lowered his eyes and remained silent.

She had, after all, never requested his interference. Whether Benedict would have truly dared sneak into her tent was something she could judge for herself.

“Deep down, you regret all of this.” Fiona forced the words out, determined to drag every awkward truth into daylight. From the instant she realized her grandmother’s scheme, she knew his first instinct would be regret.

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Chapter 186 Desert Whispers

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“Judge a gentleman by his deeds, not the riddle of his heart,” Soren replied, voice low yet steady. “No one needs to guess what I think–watch what I do. Whatever consequence is mine, I will carry it. Last time we kissed, you refused to let me shoulder that burden.

Am I supposed to applaud you for such spotless virtue?” she shot back, every syllable sharpened with irony.

“A person’s character can’t be summed up in a single act,” Soren answered, calm but unyielding. “Hearts are hidden behind ribs. Even your own grandmother—hasn’t she been maneuvering you for her own ends?”

“That’s my business,” Fiona said, cutting the thought short like a blade against rope.

Unfazed, Soren went on. “You know better than anyone that she fights for more than just your future with me. She has ambitions of her own.”

The words rang brutally clear.

From an outsider’s perch Soren saw Helen exactly as she was and judged her without mercy. That distance let him assume the worst of her motives–an approach that spared him disappointment and, more often than not, injury.

Fiona understood all of it. She had untangled the logic the night before, yet, as the person caught at the center, she could not simply step aside. She dropped her gaze, hiding the storm of emotion behind lowered lashes.

A servant called from beyond the courtyard archway. “Lord Soren, the carriage is ready. We must leave before nightfall, or Gorgegate Pass will be treacherous.”

Soren glanced at Fiona. Exhaustion still clouded her eyes. The memory of last night’s closeness sent a hot flush creeping over his ears–an unfamiliar, almost boyish embarrassment he could not quite mask.

“I’m leaving now,” he said, soft enough that only she could hear. “Rest. If anything happens,

write to me.”

Outside the gates, Luna and Quentin waited. Since Soren’s arrival from Yondale they had felt eyes on them, certain a clash had erupted between him and Helen.

Yet the princess appeared before them today radiant and razor–sharp, draped in luxury as though confinement had been a victorious strategy. Her posture proclaimed triumph.

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