“Dask, love… you’ve never done this before.”
Her lips parted on a shiver of breath, eyes burning into his.
“No,” she confessed, tears breaking on her lashes. “But I’ve imagined it. With you.” Her voice fell, aching. “Only you.”
That undid him. All the hunger in him bent toward reverence, every pulse of desire tempered by awe. She wasn’t offering him only her body—she was offering him her first, her only, her trust.
And he loved her too much to take her like this.
His mouth grazed her temple, then her cheek, careful when every part of him burned to be reckless.
“Not like this,” he whispered. “Not tonight.”
Her hands clung to his shoulders, dragging him closer.
“Why not? Viktor—please—”
His chest heaved, torn in half.
“Because I love you.”
The words tore out of him, unguarded and raw.
Her breath caught, lips trembling against his. “You—”
“I’ve loved you since the first moment, Amerei. Since before I even understood what it meant.”
His hand cupped her cheek, thumb tracing her skin as if she were both sacred and human and his all at once.
“I would burn. I would bleed. I would face death itself—because I love you.”
The truth broke out of him, the vow deep in his bones laid bare.
At first, she could only stare, his storm-lit eyes unwavering.
Then her whole body broke against him.
She clung, fists in his hair, tears slipping hot and helpless.
“They won’t let me keep you. Viktor—they’ll tear you from me.”
“Who?”
His hand cupped her face, rough but steady, forcing her to meet him.
“Who won’t let you?”
“My father. The court. The Senate of Elváliev…”
Her tears spilled over his fingers.
“Evander says Father’s been writing Prince Xavien. And what else could that mean?”
Viktor drew back just enough to breathe, anger sparking through the hurt.
“Xavien?” The name left his mouth like a curse. “Amerei—I may be from the backcountry, but I know the elf-prince still has a wife.” He shook his head hard. “What game would your father be playing?”
“A dangerous one,” she breathed.
