“Leo—”
“No, I’m tired of it.” He turns to face me fully. “I’m tired of always having to compromise, always having to be the reasonable one, the diplomatic one. Just once, I want to fight for something without having to calculate the political cost.”
“Then fight,” I say simply. “Not with anger, but with purpose.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“I think,” I choosing my words carefully, “that you’ve been fighting as Prince Leo, third—soon to be fourth—in line to the throne. Maybe it’s time to fight as just Leo, the man who carries the stories of his ancestors in his blood.”
“And how does ‘just Leo’ fight this battle?” he asks, his deep blue eyes boring into mine.
I step closer. “He remembers why these places matter. Why the Valley of Whispers isn’t just a name on a map, but a living connection to who we are.” Another step. “He speaks from the heart, not the crown.”
He’s close enough now that I can catch his scent—cedar and sage from this morning’s blessing ceremony, mixed with something uniquely him.
“I don’t know if I remember how to do that,” he admits.
“I think you do.” I reach up, hesitating briefly before touching his cheek. “I’ve seen you when the masks fall away. When you’re just yourself.”
With the touch of my hand he seems to deflate, as if with that caress all the anger, all the frustration of the day transforms into a different kind of heat, a different kind of need.
“Rangi...” his voice holds a warning, though whether for him or myself, I’m not sure.
“Let me help,” I offer softly. “Let me ease some of your hurt, Leo.”
In the quiet of my office, with the weight of duty momentarily lifted, he makes a choice. Not as a prince, not as a diplomat, but as a man who wants—needs—connection.
“How?” he asks, though we both know the answer.
Instead of replying, I close the final distance between us, my lips finding his in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens.
I go to draw back but Leo makes a sound and his lips capture mine—hungry and desperate. The kiss shifts, and suddenly he’s in charge, kissing me like he’s falling, like there’s nothing left to hold onto—and gods, I want to be the person he reaches for, the person who catches him every time.
My hands come up to cradle his face, grounding him, groundingme. He presses against me, desperate, aching, his body seeking mine like we’ve only got minutes left to live.
I back him until we’re at his desk. With one move I lift him slightly until he’s sitting on its edge and I can step between his legs. The position brings our bodies into perfect alignment, allowing me to feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against me.
“We shouldn’t,” Leo murmur against mine lips, even as his hands slide under my shirt to touch warm skin. “Not here.”
“Then where?” I ask, voice rough with want.
“My quarters.”
I can barely think straight, but I know we need privacy that his office can’t provide.
“Down the hall.”
I force myself to pull back just enough to look at him, finding his eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?”
In answer, he kisses me again, pouring all his certainty into it. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
We leave his office separately, maintaining a careful distance as we make our way through the corridors. Victoria gives me a knowing look as I pass, but says nothing.
Once inside Leo’s private quarters, all pretence falls away. As soon as the door closes behind us, I move, pressing Leo against it, my mouth hungry on his. Leo arches into me, matching my intensity as our hands explore each other with growing urgency.
I grab him by the front of his shirt and yank him into a kiss that’s pure fire and fury, mouths clashing, teeth scraping, hands everywhere. It’s not careful. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate, unrelenting,feral.
We stumble backwards toward the bed, shedding clothes like they’re burning. I rip his shirt down the middle, buttons pinging off the floor. He grins and does the same to mine. We’re toe-to-toe now, bare chest to bare chest, breath mixing, cocks brushing and twitching between us.
