All Chapters of Betrothed To Six Lovers: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Lila's P.O.VI hadn’t meant to follow him.I’d only stepped out onto the balcony for air after another endless council session—my head still ringing with drainage proposals, crop yields, and the endless polite maneuvering over who got to sit where during next month’s harvest festival. Lucian had excused himself ten minutes earlier, murmuring something about needing to clear his head. I knew that tone. He didn’t say “I’m going to the waterfront aisle,” but I knew that was where he’d end up. He always did when the walls started pressing in.I told myself I was just stretching my legs.The truth was simpler: I missed him when he wasn’t in the same room. Even for ten minutes.The corridor was quiet except for the soft echo of my slippers. I passed the east-wing gallery, the portraits staring down with their usual mixture of judgment and indifference, then slipped through the arched doors that led to the upper terrace. From there I could see the waterfront aisle curving along the lake like

Lila’s P.O.VThe corridor from the waterfront aisle to the east wing felt twice as long on the way back. My slippers slapped against the marble with uneven, hurried rhythm; I could hear my own breathing too loud, too fast, like I’d been running uphill for miles even though I hadn’t. The vase shards were still behind me, glittering on the stone path like broken promises. Kai’s laughter—mocking, jester-sharp still rang in my ears. And Lucian’s face that stunned, speechless moment when the words landed… kept replaying behind my eyes every time I blinked.I didn’t wait for him.I couldn’t.My chest was caving in, ribs squeezing around a heart that wouldn’t slow down. Every breath felt shallow, stolen. I pressed one palm to the wall as I turned the last corner toward our suite, fingers dragging along cool stone for balance. The children’s voices reached me before I reached the door—Shayla’s bright chatter, Lucas’s quieter questions, Aiden’s happy babble. Ordinary sounds. Safe sounds. They

Lila's P.O.VThe bedroom was too quiet after the children finally drifted off. Madam Lavinge had taken them to the nursery wing with a soft promise to stay until morning, leaving the suite feeling suddenly larger—and colder—than it had all day. The fire in the grate had burned down to a nest of pulsing coals, throwing faint orange pulses across the silk drapes and the four-poster bed. I stood at the window for a long time, staring out at the dark gardens, the fountain’s steady silver arcs still glittering under moonlight. The estate looked peaceful from up here. Deceptive. Like it wasn’t holding its breath the same way I was.Lucian came up behind me without a sound.I felt him before I heard him—the warmth of his body cutting through the chill that had settled on my skin. He didn’t speak right away. Just slid his arms around my waist from behind, chin resting on my shoulder, chest pressed to my back. His heartbeat was steady against my spine. Mine was still racing from the day, from t

Lila’s P.O.VThe coals had settled into a soft, dying glow, just enough to paint faint orange streaks across Lucian’s bare back as he rose from the bed. My body was still buzzing—limbs loose, skin flushed, the deep ache between my thighs a warm, insistent reminder of how thoroughly he’d already taken me apart once tonight. I thought we were finished. I thought the night had given us everything it had left to give. I was wrong.Lucian crossed the room without a word, every movement slow and deliberate, like he knew exactly how my eyes followed the lines of his body—the flex of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the way his thighs shifted with each step. He reached the small side table where the oil lamp still burned low. Beside it sat the speaker—sleek, black, almost invisible against the dark wood. He tapped the top once.A soft click.Then music.Not loud. Not sudden. Just… there.A familiar opening chord—acoustic guitar, gentle, almost hesitant—rolled through the room. My breath c

Lila’s P.O.VThe room had gone very dark, the coals now nothing more than faint gray ghosts under ash. Only the thin blade of moonlight that slipped beneath the heavy drapes gave the bed any definition—silver lines across twisted sheets, across Lucian’s shoulder, across my own bare hip where the duvet had slipped low. My body still felt heavy, sweetly used, every muscle loose and warm from the way he’d loved me earlier—slow at first, then fierce, then slow again until I was trembling and whispering his name like it was the only word left in the world.I was drifting somewhere between awake and asleep when I felt him move.Not away.Closer.He shifted carefully—rolling onto his side so his chest pressed to my back, one arm sliding beneath my neck like a pillow, the other wrapping around my waist to pull me flush against him. His breath stirred the damp hair at my nape. His heartbeat thudded steady against my spine. I sighed—long, contented—and let myself sink deeper into the mattress.