Chapter 5

Alaric

The hallway was dim as I walked toward her room, the heavy silence broken only by the soft thud of my boots against marble. The meeting had dragged for too long—elders with their ancient opinions, as if they weren’t half-rotting under their robes. I didn’t hear a word they said after the first twenty minutes.

All I could think about was her.

The way she looked earlier, standing in the center of that hall with her chin high and her eyes full of fire. She didn’t whimper or cower like the others. She stared at me like she wanted to rip my heart out.

And fuck if that didn’t make me want her more.

I didn’t knock when I got to her room. Just opened the door. Quietly.

She was asleep.

Or maybe pretending. I could never tell with her.

The room was lit by the faint glow of a lamp in the corner, casting warm shadows across the bed. She lay there on her side, knees curled slightly, back to the door. One arm slipped beneath the pillow. The sheet had slid down to her thighs, leaving the rest of her exposed.

The nightgown she wore—if you could call that thing a gown—was so thin I could see the curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts, the outline of everything I shouldn’t be looking at.

Fuck.

I stood there, jaw clenched, trying to talk myself out of it.

This wasn’t what I was supposed to do. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her. She was supposed to be a vessel. A name on a prophecy.

But all I saw was her.

And she was fire.

“You going to keep standing there like a fucking pervert or do you want to come in and be the beast you are?” Her voice, dry and biting, cut through the silence.

She didn’t turn around.

I took a step in and shut the door behind me.

“You’re awake.”

“No shit.”

“You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone so fragile.”

“Try me,” she snapped, pushing herself up slowly. She turned to face me, hair falling messily around her shoulders, eyes hard despite the faint pink on her cheeks. “I already told you I won’t let you touch me. I’d rather die than carry your cursed heir.”

I laughed, low and humorless. “You sure? Because your body says something else.”

She flinched.

Just a little. But I caught it.

I moved closer. She took a step back.

Another.

Until her back hit the wall.

I didn’t stop.

Her chest rose and fell, faster now, but she still held my gaze like she wasn’t afraid. Like she’d rather burn alive than show fear.

I pressed a hand beside her head, leaned in close enough that I could smell her.

Lavender.

And something else. Something darker. Wilder.

“You think you hate me,” I murmured, “but your body doesn’t.”

She trembled. It was subtle, but I felt it.

She shoved at my chest. “Get away from me—”

I caught her wrists before they could do any damage and pinned them against the wall above her head.

Her breath hitched.

I buried my nose against hers, inhaled deeply, too deeply.

Fuck.

Her scent was poison. And I was already high on it.

My cock throbbed, heavy and hard against my pants. Every inch of her body called to me like a drug.

“I shouldn’t do this,” I growled, more to myself than to her. “I should walk the fuck away.”

“Then do it,” she said, voice shaking.

But I didn’t.

I turned her to face the wall. Her body jerked in protest, but I didn’t let go. I gripped her wrists again, pinned them above her head. Her skin was warm. Her breathing faster.

I moved behind her, my chest pressing against her back, her ass brushing my aching cock.

She tried to elbow me. I caught her arm again. “You keep fighting like that,” I murmured against her ear, “you’re going to make me lose whatever control I have left.”

I slid a hand down her thigh, slow, torturous. She was trembling now.

When I raised her gown, I froze.

No panties.

My jaw clenched.

Fucking hell.

“You came to bed like this?” My voice was rough, feral. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

"Your servants obviously want me ready for you" the words came as her breath stuttered when my fingers slid between her thighs.

Wet.

Hot.

So fucking wet.

“What was that you said earlier?” I whispered, dragging my fingers through her folds. “That you’d never let me touch you?”

She gasped.

Didn’t say a word.

Her legs wobbled.

“You’re quiet now.” I smirked, pressing against her clit. She arched, unintentional. Beautiful. Her body betrayed her in every damn way.

She moaned when I slipped a finger inside her.

Then two.

She was so tight I had to close my eyes and curse under my breath.

Her head dropped forward, a soft cry escaping her lips.

I leaned in, brushing my lips over the back of her neck.

“You smell so fucking sweet.”

I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t. But the heat, the scent, the way her body responded like it was made for me—

I didn’t know when I unbuckled my belt.

Didn’t know when I slid inside her.

But the moment I did—

Fuck.

She clenched around me like a vice, and I lost it.

All reason. All logic. Gone.

I moved inside her hard, fast. She gasped, hands clenching, back arching as I buried myself again and again. Her moans echoed in my ears, soft and broken and perfect.

My teeth grazed her neck.

I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t.

But I couldn’t stop myself. She has to be mine in every sense, every fucking way.

I sank my fangs in deep.

She screamed as she cursed.

The mark bloomed beneath my bite, sealing something I was never meant to claim.

My grip on her loosened.

Reality crashed down like a fucking avalanche.

What the fuck did I just do?

I pulled out, still panting, my mind spinning.

The hell?

I marked her? What... I couldn't believe the terrible mistake.

She's supposed to be just the bearer of my heir and be thrown the hell out.

What the fuck have I done?

"What have you done?" She shot me a piercing glare. Her eyes burned with anger as she cupped the place my mark sat on her skin.

I couldn't say a damn word.

I just buckled my pants, even though I didn't finish, I was still rock hard and throbbing, but I turned, and walked out.

Slamming the door behind me like a coward running from his own mistake.