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Chapter Seventy: Project Chimera
Date de publication:
2025-12-01 18:05:01
Dernier chapitre
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Fifty- Three : A New Beginning ( 2)
I woke to the feeling of being watched, that same soft, warm, and heavy sensation, and I knew, even before I opened my eyes, that he was looking at me. The Parisian morning was a soft, gray light, filtering through the silk curtains, and the world felt quiet, still, perfect. I turned my head, my hair a messy, dark tangle on the expensive, white pillows, and I found his golden eyes, already awake, already focused, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch. He smiled, a slow, sleepy, and utterly beautiful smile that was just for me. “Good morning, my wife,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough rumble from sleep. “Good morning, my husband,” I whispered back, my voice shy, and he leaned in, his kiss slow, and deep, and lazy, a kiss that tasted of sleep, and of us. “I could get used to this,” I murmured against his lips. “I plan on making sure you do,” he growled, but he didn't move away, he just held me, his gaze serious, loving. I traced the dark, intricate tattoos
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Fifty- Two : A New Beginning
(Isabella’s POV) The Parisian night was cool and clear, the city a river of glittering lights below our penthouse, and the Eiffel Tower stood like a diamond-studded sentinel, a private monument just for us, its light spilling into the dark, quiet room. We were curled together on a sofa so large and soft it felt like a cloud, a cashmere blanket draped over our legs, and the soft, flickering light of an old, black-and-white movie played on the wall. It was a silly, romantic film, one I had picked, about a princess who ran away, and Alessandro, my dark, dangerous king, was watching it with me, his attention absolute, but I knew, I just knew, he was not watching the screen. I could feel the weight of his gaze, a warm, possessive, and endlessly loving touch, and I turned my head, my cheek resting on his chest, "You're not even watching the movie, are you?" His chest rumbled beneath my ear with a low, soft laugh, and his arms, which were wrapped securely around me, tightened, pull
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Fifty one : A Taste of Paris
(Isabella’s POV) I woke up slowly, the sun was a warm, heavy gold streaming through the massive windows of the penthouse, and the sheets felt like pure, liquid silk against my skin. My body was a delicious, heavy ache, a beautiful, lingering reminder of the night before, of the way my husband, my husband, had worshipped me, and I felt a blush climb my neck just thinking about it, but I was sated, I was safe, and for the first time in my entire, terrified life, I was completely, and utterly, at peace. I turned my head on the pillow, and the first thing I saw, the very first thing, was Alessandro, already awake, propped up on one elbow, just watching me. His dark hair was a mess, falling over his forehead, and his golden eyes, usually so sharp and dangerous, so full of the king, were now soft, warm, and full of a love so intense it still made my heart stop. “Good morning, my wife,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough rumble from sleep. “Good morning, my husband,” I whispered
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Fifty : A Different Kind of King
(Alessandro’s POV) I held her in my arms, my body still buried deep inside hers, the two of us breathless in the armchair, the city of Paris glittering outside the window, a silent, unmoving witness to our desperate, beautiful reunion. Her heart was hammering against my chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched my own, and I grinned into her kiss, my queen, my wife, my beautiful, insatiable Isabella. “Never better,” she whispered against my mouth, her lips swollen and red, and I groaned, because I was exactly the same, I was never better than when I was with her. I held her like that for a long moment, just feeling her, feeling the slick heat of her body, the tight, perfect clench of her muscles around me, and I knew, I knew I was not done, I was not even close to being done. “I love you,” I whispered, the words a rough, honest sound in the quiet room. “I love you,” she breathed back, her fingers tracing the tattoo on my chest. I pulled back, just enough to see her face
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Nine: The Taste of Paris
(Alessandro’s POV) The ride back to the penthouse, with the streets of Paris blurring past our window, was a sweet, delicious kind of torture, the car a small, private bubble moving through the most beautiful city in the world, and I could not, I would not, keep my hands off my wife. She was sitting beside me, her new, ridiculously expensive bags forgotten on the floor, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling from the champagne we’d had at the boutique, and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I loved her, way too much to make sense. I was never crazy about this, about the simple act of touching, but with Isabella, I found that sometimes it was all I wanted to do. My hand, which had been resting on my own leg, moved to hers, my fingers brushing the silk of her new dress, and I watched her breath hitch, a small, tiny sound that was just for me. My hand slid higher, past her knee, my palm pressing against the soft, warm skin of her inner thigh, and she shifted in he
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight : A Normal Life
(Isabella’s POV) I woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the soft, buttery light of a Parisian morning, and for a moment, I didn’t know where I was, for the sheets felt like silk against my skin, and the room was vast and beautiful. And then it all came rushing back to me, the wedding, the jet, the candlelit bath, and the Eiffel Tower sparkling just for us, and I remembered, I was in Paris, I was on my honeymoon, and I was Mrs. Isabella De Luca. I stretched, a long, happy, contented stretch, my body feeling wonderfully sore, a delicious, private reminder of the night before, of the way Alessandro had loved me, slowly, tenderly, as if he was worshiping me. He was already gone from the bed, and I could hear his low, rumbling voice from the next room, speaking in quiet, fluent French on the phone, probably already handling business, already being a king, even here. I smiled, wrapping the silk sheet around my body, and I padded to the window, looking out at the beautiful, gray-blue
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Seventh : The Morning of the Vow
(Alessandro’s POV) I woke to the soft, golden light of dawn and a profound, unnerving silence, the space beside me in the bed was empty. For a single, heart-stopping second, the old, familiar panic seized me. The wars, the ghosts, the constant, gnawing fear of loss it all came rushing back
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen : One Last Night
(Alessandro’s POV) I held her in the darkness, my confession of being "terrified" of this happiness still hanging in the air. She rose up, her beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight, and placed her hand on my heart. “It is not fragile, Alessandro,” she said, her voice a firm, unshakab
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen: The Calm Before the Vow
(Alessandro’s POV) The first morning of our new world was quiet. I woke with the sun, a habit I could not break, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I did not wake with a jolt of anxiety, my hand reaching for a gun that wasn't there. There was only the soft, warm weight of
The king of Ashes Chapter One Hundred and Fourth : The King's Decree
(Alessandro’s POV) The first few days of our new world were a beautiful, fragile dream. We woke in each other’s arms, the sun filling our bedroom with a peaceful, golden light that promised a new beginning. We made breakfast together. We talked about our wedding, our future, a life that felt a
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