Chapter 7- After The First Look

Damon's POV

I didn’t catch a single word spoken for the remainder of that dinner.

Celene was busy discussing trade deals.

Her advisors debated adjustments to border patrol.

And the nobles from Averelle offered insincere compliments on Velmere's naval strength.

But none of it registered.

Not while she sat just three seats away.

The woman who had occupied my thoughts for two long nights.

The woman whose earring I had carried like a haunted reminder.

The woman whose kisses had stolen my sleep.

The woman who had slipped away without a single goodbye.

Elara.

Princess Elara.

My future sister-in-law.

I maintained perfect posture and a neutral expression, but inside, I was anything but composed.

She sat there, rigid, eyes fixed on her plate, refusing to meet my gaze again.

Her fingers gripped her wine glass tightly.

I noticed her throat bobbing with each swallow.

She was anxious.

But not because she recognized me.

No .....she had no clue who I was.

She had no idea that the man she had spent a night with was now sitting across from her, adorned with the Velmere crest.

One might think that would make things simpler.

But it didn't.

Celene resumed speaking, her tone icy yet polished. “The engagement ceremony will take place in three days. Damon, I expect we will..."

I let my gaze drift past her.

In that moment, Elara tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

It was a small gesture, almost insignificant.

Yet I could still feel her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I remembered how they trembled against my jaw.

I recalled her nails scraping down my back as she whispered, “Don’t stop.”

I tightened my grip on the stem of my wine glass.

Celene noticed my tension. “Are you feeling unwell?”

I forced my expression to remain neutral. “Just… adjusting to the atmosphere.”

Adjusting to the woman who doesn’t know she’s meant for me.

She gave me a polite smile before turning her attention back to her advisor.

I didn’t deserve to think like that.

I didn’t deserve to yearn for her again.

I certainly didn’t deserve this dangerous, twisting ache in my chest.

But I did.

Dinner dragged on, each moment feeling like an eternity.

Every time Elara shifted in her seat, I was acutely aware.

Every time her hand reached for her drink, I noticed.

Every time she avoided my gaze, I couldn’t help but see it.

She was silent .... almost too silent for comfort.

Something significant must have happened in her life recently; I could feel it in the air around her. Her emotions were just beneath the surface, fragile yet sharp.

And it made me crave to know her…

far more than I should.

When the final toast was given, Celene rose gracefully.

“That wraps up our evening. Please rest well; tomorrow's agenda is busy.”

The sound of chairs scraping filled the air.

Robes rustled, and diplomats murmured their goodbyes.

Yet Elara didn’t move.

She stayed seated, hands tightly clasped in her lap, breathing slowly as if trying to suppress a wave of panic.

Before I could fully register what I was doing, my body was already moving.

I stepped around the table.

Rowan, my guard, gave me a questioning look.

I ignored him.

Finally, Elara stood, smoothing the fabric of her gown. Still, she refused to meet my eyes. It was as if she believed that by avoiding me long enough, last night would somehow vanish.

She strode briskly towards the corridor.

And I followed.

The hallway was dimly lit, warmed by sconces and the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the tall windows. The sounds of the banquet faded into the background.

“Elara.”

My voice emerged lower than I intended.

She halted.

Her shoulders stiffened.

Slowly, she turned ... not completely, just enough to acknowledge my presence without facing me.

“Yes?” she replied, maintaining a polite and distant tone.

She truly had no idea.

The realization hit me hard.

She had no clue that her mystery stranger was the prince she was for some reason expected to share a meal with.

I took a step closer, trying to keep my voice steady. “We need to talk.”

“We already… had dinner,” she replied, choosing her words carefully. “Was something unclear?”

She was making an effort to be formal and composed, acting like the dutiful princess she was supposed to be.

Nothing like the reckless, passionate woman who had grabbed my collar and kissed me first.

“I meant in private,” I whispered.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

I took another step forward. She instinctively took a step back.

Good ... she should.

“Because,” I said softly, “you left without a word.”

She stopped moving.

Shock flitted across her face raw, unfiltered, and genuine.

Her lips parted, yet no words escaped.

Her breath trembled.

Her gaze flitted from my uniform to my face, then dropped to the floor.

“You....” she whispered. “It’s you?”

And just like that, realization hit her.

It was electric.

Devastating.

Undeniable.

Every muscle in her body tensed.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “You’re....the Prince of Velmere.”

“And you,” I replied, my voice low, “are Princess Elara of Averelle.”

She looked at me as if the ground were crumbling beneath her.

“Last night…” Her voice wavered. “We didn’t even share our names. We agreed on no strings attached, no consequences.....”

“Life has a way of disregarding those agreements,” I interrupted.

She swallowed hard. “This is....this is a disaster.”

“Is it?” I challenged, lowering my voice menacingly. “It didn’t feel like one.”

“It is,” she retorted fiercely. “You’re engaged to my sister.”

Her words struck me like a dagger.

She was right.

And yet…

I stepped closer, and her back pressed against the wall as she instinctively tried to pull away.

“I didn’t know,” I said gently. “I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know you were from Averelle. I had no idea you were royal.”

“You still shouldn’t have followed me!” she whispered sharply. “This is risky.”

“Everything about you is risky.”

Her breath hitched.

A guard strolled past at the end of the corridor. We fell silent, barely breathing until he turned the corner.

“T....this can’t happen,” she murmured when we were alone once more. “We can’t talk like this. We can’t look at each other like.....”

“Like what?”

Her cheeks flushed.

Beautiful.

Vulnerable.

Real.

“I don’t know you,” she said softly.

“You know me better than anyone else here,” I countered.

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Stop.”

I leaned in close enough for her to feel my breath on her skin. “Tell me you forgot about last night.”

She stiffened.

“Tell me you’ve forgotten my hands on your skin,

tell me you’ve forgotten your nails digging into my back,

tell me you forgot how you whispered my name even when you didn’t know it.”

Her lips quivered.

She didn’t respond.

Because she remembered.

Every moment.

So did I.

A thick silence enveloped us heavy, forbidden, irreversible.

Then, she finally whispered, “Damon… this can’t happen. It can never happen.”

“I don’t agree,” I replied calmly.

She shook her head and maneuvered around me.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured. “Goodnight.”

“Elara.”

She didn’t pause.

She quickened her pace, almost racing away, her gown sweeping across the marble floor like a specter escaping its past.

I remained in the dim hallway long after she vanished.

My fists were clenched.

My heart raced.

My thoughts were wild.

There were countless reasons to let her go.

A thousand rules tying me to a future that was already mapped out.

But none of that mattered.

Not anymore.

I had found her.

And now that I had.....

I wasn’t about to let her slip away.