His lips found her throat, his voice low and unrepentant. “And we’ll bring it down if we have to.”
A short laugh escaped her. “Well, according to Romilda, the whole camp already knows about us.”
“Officially, no one can know,” he murmured.
“But unofficially…?”
One hand cupped her breast, thumb circling her nipple slowly. The other arm held her flush against him. “Unofficially,” he said, lips brushing her ear, “I want every soldier outside to hear you scream my name. I want them to know who you belong to.”
Katell shivered, her breath catching as his mouth trailed down her throat. His hips rolled forward, the hard press of his arousal against her core enough to make her ache. She grippedhis broad shoulders, fingers digging into muscle as she hiked up his tunic and tightened her legs around him in silent demand.
He grinned against her skin and shifted his grip, adjusting her weight.
With a swift motion, he entered her, and the air left her lungs in a sharp gasp. The rhythm that followed was fast, their muffled moans and breathless curses rising to fill the tent.
Their bodies moved together with a primal urgency, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through her core. She arched her back, nails digging into his skin as she lost herself in the sensation.
“Gods,” Dorias rasped. “You feel so good.”
“More.” The word was a plea and a demand all at once. “Don’t stop.”
She wrapped her legs tighter around him, craving more of him—more of this intoxicating connection they shared.
Dorias answered with a growl, burying his face in her neck as his pace intensified. Sweat slicked his skin, glinting in the hearthlight, his muscles taut with effort.
She met him thrust for thrust, each movement driving them closer to the edge, her breath catching with every surge of pleasure. His fingers dug into her hips until all that existed was this—heat, skin, breath, and the wild rhythm consuming them both.
“Dorias…” Her moan broke against his mouth as he kissed her again. The tension coiled tight inside her, unbearable, exquisite, and then shattered, leaving her trembling in his arms.
He followed her over the brink soon after with a strangled groan, his body seizing against hers.
Later, as they lay together, their limbs entwined beneath the flicker of candlelight, the ache in her chest swelled.
It was always like this between them—no pretence, no softness. Just fire and fury, bodies and breath. A storm neither wanted to tame.
With Scylas, it had been different. Familiar. Years spent learning each other’s bodies had settled into something comfortable… and predictable.
Dorias was none of those things.
He was an insatiable force who often left her a trembling mess. When it was over, she always fell asleep tangled in sheets and the heady fog of spent pleasure.
And yet… something was missing.
Katell couldn’t put it into words, only that in the silence afterwards, something inside her stayed curled up tight—wanting more. More closeness. More of him. But he rarely lingered.
Whatever unsettled her, she’d never found the courage to name it, let alone confront him.
“I wish you could come with me to Tiryns.” The words slipped out with more longing than she usually allowed herself. Maybe it was an effect of Laran’s Tears—she’d taken two before lying down—or maybe it was just the weight of goodbye pressing too hard against her ribs.
Dorias pulled her closer and pressed a slow kiss to her temple. “We’ll meet again soon, my love,” he murmured. “I promise.”
Except they would be in Kisra then—under the watchful eyes of the Emperor, senators, and nobles. The thought made her stomach twist.
“I’m going to miss you.” It struck her that they’d rarely spent a day apart since Dorias had rescued her from the arena.
“I know.” His fingers trailed down her cheek and along her jawline. “I did what I could, but the Empire’s plans stop for no one.”
“So you keep saying.” She managed a tired smile and pressed a final goodnight kiss to his lips, already missing him.
