“Look, if I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come,”I say, almost to myself. My eyes stay fixed on my boots as I kick at the wet rocks beneath me.
“I...” Casper starts, but his words falter.
The air thickens again. What we’re both afraid to say hangs heavy between us.
“This was a mistake,” I sigh. “Go back to your harlot or whatever she is to you.”
The words escape before I can stop them. They taste bitter, wrong, even as they leave my lips. A war wages inside me—a part of me begging for him to stay, to argue, to fight for this, for us. But I can’t say it. I can’t ask for something I know I shouldn’t want.
I step to move past him, but in an instant, his hand is on my elbow, his grip firm and unrelenting as he pulls me back toward him. His body presses against mine, the heat intoxicating.
"Oh, so you can push me away, and I’m just supposed to take it?" His voice is low, delicate, like it might burn if you get too close.
"I can’t have what I want?" He pauses, his gaze narrowing, his words hanging heavy in the air. "Take who I want, whenever the hell I feel like it?" His voice drops lower "Is that the game we’re playing now?"
His words sting, but I don’t flinch. I can’t. Instead, I find myself staring into his face, every detail etched into my mind since that night at the tavern. His dark, smoldering gaze burns with intensity, stirring something deep within me—a longing I can’t ignore. I shake my head, the emotions swirling too fast, too chaotic to process. But as I look at him, the jealousy fades, replaced by desire.
His gaze softens, just slightly, as he watches me. His shoulders drop a fraction, the faintest crack in his armor. And that’s when it happens—a tear slides down my cheek, unbidden, carrying with it every ounce of control I thought I had. The walls I’ve spent years building begin to crumble. He doesn’t speak at first. He just watches me, waiting for me to make sense of this, of us. But I can’t. My chest tightens, my throat burns, and I am utterly lost.
Without thinking, I step closer to him, my trembling hand finding his chest. Beneath my palm, his heartbeat is steady,grounding me in a moment that feels like it could consume me whole. His warmth envelops me, and for a brief, fleeting second, the world feels right.
"What is it you want, Princess?" he murmurs, his voice a low, sultry drawl that drips like honey, each word igniting a slow burn beneath my skin.
His words strike a chord, reverberating deep within me, but I don’t answer. I can’t. Instead, I feel his hand brush against my cheek, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop.
“I’m married,” I whisper, the truth spilling from my lips, barely audible, as if saying it aloud might shatter me. It’s a chain I can’t escape, binding me to a life that feels more like someone else’s than my own.
“I have a duty… to my kingdom,” I manage, the words trembling, caught somewhere between defiance and surrender.
My confession doesn’t break him; it ignites something inside him. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing.
“When will your heart outweigh the things you place before it?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost a plea. He leans in, his breath warm against my skin, his nose grazing mine in a gesture so tender it shatters me.
"Comfort? Certainty? Those walls you’ve built—they’re lies. False realities. Not this. Notus.”
His lips linger near my cheek, and I feel the truth of his words down to my very bones. I shake my head, as if denying them will make them less real. But it’s too late. I lean into him, just slightly, my resolve crumbling. When his lips brush against my cheek, I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a quiet promise of what could be.
“You make mesoangry... Do you know that?” His voice is thick with frustration, each word a low, rough whisper.
He tilts my head back slightly, his hand sliding around my neck in a possessive yet careful grip. My breath hitches, and I feel his every movement like a spark against my skin.
“All I can think about when I see you with anyone else…” His voice falters for just a moment, the rawness of his confession slicing through the air. “I lose my fucking mind.”
His lips graze my jaw, his touch sending shockwaves through my body. He guides it forward, slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt until my palm meets his bare skin—warm, steady, alive. The rhythm of his heartbeat pounds beneath my touch, a silent confession pulsing against my skin. His warmth burns through me, and I feel him—aching.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” he murmurs, his voice a blend of need and desperation.
Instinct takes over. My fingers splay across his chest, and I let my nails drag lightly against his skin. He shudders beneath my touch, a low groan escaping his lips as he presses closer, the warmth of his body meeting mine with barely restrained need.
"I’ll do whatever you desire, Princess." He pauses, his voice dipping lower, heavy with intention. "Tell me what you want."
His words hang in the air—a challenge, a dare, and a promise woven together. I lift my gaze to his, and whatever restraint I had left begins to splinter. The unmistakable desire in his eyes reflects back at me. I feel it mirrored in my own as my gaze drops to his lips—parted, breath shallow, so close I can almost taste the promise behind them. And gods, I want him. Not later. Not eventually.Now.
“You.”
Before I can think, he’s on me, his hand threading into my hair and pulling me toward him. His lips crash against mine, wild and unrelenting. It’s not soft or tender—it’s consuming, filled with everything unsaid. My breath hitches as his other hand finds the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. His lips devour mine, his tongue parting them without hesitation, tasting me, claiming me.
His groan reverberates in me as he angles my head, deepening the kiss, his fingers gripping my hair with just enough force to make me gasp.
