Darius's POV
Octavia’s breath was warm against my chest, her leg draped over mine, skin to skin beneath the sheets.
Morning light spilled across her bare shoulder like it belonged there, gilding every soft curve I’d memorized in the dark. I traced the line of her spine with one hand, slow and deliberate, until she stirred. Her body shifted, hips pressing back into mine, and the soft sound she made, sleepy, aching, shot straight through me.
I kissed the edge of her jaw, then lower, tasting the salt-sweet of her skin. She arched into my mouth as I dragged my lips over her collarbone, down the slope of her breast, and back up again. “You’re already awake,” I murmured, voice rough with want. “Were you waiting for me to touch you?”
A soft moan answered me. Her fingers tangled in my hair. “Always.”
I rolled her onto her back, kissing her hard, deep, until she gasped into my mouth. I slid between her thighs and she opened for me without hesitation, slick and ready. Her heat wrapped around my fingers first, clenching tight as I stroked her slowly, watching her fall apart just for me.
“Darius,” she whispered, breath shaking. “Please.”
I guided myself to her entrance, nudging against her slick folds. Her hands gripped my arms, nails dragging across my skin as I pushed inside, inch by inch, until I was fully buried in her heat. We both groaned. Her walls clutched me like she didn’t want to let go, and gods, I didn’t want to pull out. Not ever.
“Fuck, you feel like you were made for me,” I growled against her throat, thrusting deep, slow, grinding into her with the kind of control that felt like punishment.
Her legs wrapped around me tighter. “You say that like I wasn’t.”
Each movement was measured, deliberate. I kept my hands on her hips, holding her in place as I drove into her, again and again, listening to every gasp, every whimper, every choked moan as she climbed. Her back arched off the bed, breasts pressed to my chest, her mouth parted in silent desperation.
“Look at me,” I said, voice hoarse. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
She did. Her eyes locked with mine as she shattered, body clenching around me with a cry that didn’t sound like fear or pain or shame, only need… Only mine. And I followed, spilling into her with a groan so deep it left me trembling. We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, breathless and shaking, her lips brushing against my neck like a promise.
After, her head rested over my heart, our sweat cooling between us. I traced circles on her spine, letting my fingers memorize the shape of her peace. She hummed something low, almost inaudible. “I didn’t know it could feel like this,” she murmured. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again.” Her voice cracked a little on the last word.
I tightened my arm around her, grounding her to me. “You are,” I said. “With me, you are. And you’re not going back to anything else.”
She tilted her head up, eyes dark with something deeper than love. “Even if this child isn’t yours by blood?”
My hand paused. For a moment, silence echoed louder than truth. But I’d known my answer for weeks now, since that night in the clearing when I almost lost her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You’re mine. This baby-” I placed my hand over the small swell of her belly, “-is mine too. Because I choose you.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could fall. “You always sound so sure.”
“I am sure. About you. About us. I don’t need the past to explain it.” She kissed me again, softer this time. . And then… a knock.
It was sharp, deliberate, not the knock of a servant or a friend. I shifted out from under her, reaching for the robe draped over the chair. Octavia sat up quickly, pulling the blanket across her chest as if expecting danger, always half-waiting for something to go wrong. My gut twisted. I opened the door.
One of the king’s guards stood there, not even meeting my eyes. He held out a sealed parchment, the black wax glinting with the insignia I hadn’t seen in weeks. A lion's head. I took it without a word, broke the seal with my thumb, and unfolded the letter. As my eyes moved across the page, I felt my stomach hollow. Rage and dread coiled through my chest like a noose.
“What is it?” Octavia’s voice was calm but strained. Her hands were still on the blanket, knuckles white now.
I didn’t answer right away. I read the final line of the letter again, slower this time, hoping the words would rearrange into something less brutal, they didn’t. I turned back to her. She was waiting, holding her breath. Waiting for me to tell her that whatever was outside that door couldn’t touch us. That whatever shadow from the past had come knocking again, I could bury it. But I couldn’t bury this, so I told her the truth.
“It’s from Leon. He’s declared war.”