Chapter 53

Ronan’s POV

I winced as the razor’s edge grazed my skin, pain flaring as a thin line of blood appeared. “Sorry, love,” she murmured softly, dipping her fingertip into the shaving cream to smooth the tiny cut. With careful precision, she guided the blade along the outline of my newly grown beard, sculpting neat, clean lines—I wondered where she’d learned such skill. The thick foam dissolved under her touch.

“You’re starting to look less like a hermit,” she teased, reaching for a towel to wipe away the lather. She dabbed at my cheeks and jaw, then moistened the cloth with cool water and rinsed away every last trace of foam. Tiny droplets slid down my throat and splattered against my bare chest.

Standing before the mirror, I studied my reflection. The trimmed beard lent me a sharper, more composed look, but it did nothing to erase the weariness in my eyes. Dark circles rimmed my lids, and a permanent melancholy lingered in my gaze. “Need anything else?” she ask