His dark, beautiful eyes never left mine, and despite the harshness of his words, the warmth of love flooded the bond between us.
There was arguing behind the door, but I didn’t care. I only cared about the Commander. My Fated Mate. His hand slipped around my waist, sinking between my legs to circle against my clit.
“Cum for me love, let me make you feel good.”
His thrusts became merciless, his groans harmonising with my needy gasps. A sound tore from me, soft at first, then deepening into a trembling moan threaded with the faintest echo of my magic. My pleasure slammed into me and warmth spiralled outward, stealing every thought, every drop of humility. My fingers clenched and my body shook as another cry slipped free before I could stop it. Everything inside me tightened, then unravelled all at once, until I was a trembling mess beneath his deep, unravelling thrusts.
He roared with his own release, and his hands gripped me with bruising force as his cock spilled warmth inside me.
For a long moment, the room was nothing but breath. Mine was shaky, still trying to remember my own name. His was ragged and warm against the back of my neck as he held himself braced above me.
“Nice finish, Commander,” Riven called out, his usual charm warped by something darker as it cut through our intimacy. “Can we secure an alliance now? Save the Kingdoms? Or do you have another round in you?”
I buried my face in my hands, a breathless laugh slipping out.
“I’m going to kill him,” the Commander muttered darkly, pushing himself upright and slowly pulling out of me.
“Please don’t,” I said as I rolled over, though my voice shook with concealed amusement. “He was the first person to accept me for what I am.”
He sighed, cupping my cheek with a gentleness utterly at odds with the name the world had given him.
“Fine,” he said, voice low. “But only for you.”
A pounding fist knocked on the door and the Commander closed his eyes like he was counting backward from ten. “But know it isreallyhard for me.”
I laughed again and he helped me stand, steadying me as my legs remembered how to function.
“We need to go,” he said, voice gravel-soft but threaded with iron.
“Father will be furious that you made him wait.” A slow smile curved my lips at the thought of him feeling belittled.
His answering look was wicked as he crossed the room to the tall, carved wardrobe. I could not look away from the shifting muscles of his ass. No male had ever been sobreathtaking in the history of the Kingdoms, it was like he was carved by the Gods themselves.
Silk whispered as he sifted through garments until he finally paused, deciding on something and turned towards me.
My breath caught. The dress he was holding was black, pure obsidian silk with long sleeves fitted closely to the wrist. Its bodice was fitted, cinched at the waist with delicate silver embroidery that resembled constellations. The skirt flowed like melted shadow with a slit high enough that would reveal my legs when I moved. The neckline was a deep, plunging V. Not like the modest, oppressing dresses of the Mortal Kingdom. This was powerful, weaponizing my femininity into something that could draw blood.
“Wear this,” he murmured as he stepped towards me.
I let him help me into the dress, the silk whispering across my skin with a soothing coolness. His fingers lingered at the fastening, brushing the back of my neck with unexpected tenderness.
My wild hair spilled down my back in silver waves. I gathered it, trying to tame it into a braid, but his hands closed gently over mine, stopping me.
“Leave it,” he urged, holding my gaze for a long, unreadable moment. “One more thing,” he said quietly, crossing to the bedside table. He opened the top drawer on the side I slept on and pulled out the Soul Relic crown.
The iridescent shellwork shimmered as though alive. Pearlescent blues, greens, and silver threaded through the bone-white coral. When sunlight caught it, it glowed faintly, like moonlight trapped beneath the sea.
He stepped closer, eyes never leaving mine. He lowered the crown onto my head carefully. It settled against my hair as though it had been made for me.
I turned towards the mirror next to the wardrobe and gasped. The girl who stared back was not the broken princess my father had last seen. She looked like a goddess. Like the sea made flesh. Power curled beneath my skin, reflected in the silver-blue of my eyes.
Behind me, the Commander was still dressing. Black combat pants slung low on his hips, boots planted wide as he pulled on a black button-up and shoved the sleeves past his elbows, exposing the corded strength of his forearms.
My eyes traced the veins and ink as the hard muscle shifted beneath his skin. His black curls hung over his brows, dishevelled and wild from fucking me.
His darkness and shadows were thrown into stark contrast against my pale skin and silver hair. Light and dark. And yet beneath it all, we were broken in the same way.
A knock rattled against the door again and the Commander snarled.
