Caelum’s POV
The encounter from yesterday still lingers in my mind.
The chamber was too quiet. I had dismissed the guards nearly an hour ago, though I wasn’t sure why I’d bothered. I could have ordered them to stand outside the door until morning, but I wanted silence. Not the ceremonial kind—true silence. The sort that wraps around your neck like a noose.
Candles burned low, arranged along the walls and desk. I’d lit them myself. It gave my hands something to do. The hearth behind me crackled softly, though it had long since stopped offering any warmth. I hadn’t touched the wine I poured earlier. It sat idle on the table beside my coat.
I should have been calm. But I was pacing like a caged wolf.
When the door opened, my body tensed so suddenly it nearly startled me.
She entered without a word. No greeting. No hesitation.
Seraya closed the door with quiet purpose and turned the lock. That sound, quiet as it was, landed in my chest like thunder.
She looked different somehow—more certain, more dangerous. Her robe hung loose at her shoulders. She slipped the knot free with one practiced motion. The fabric slid down her arms and fell to the floor without resistance. Beneath, she wore nothing.
My breath caught.
She crossed the floor slowly, and I met her halfway. I didn’t ask why she was here. I already knew. My hands caught her waist, and I pulled her to me. Her mouth met mine with heat, not caution, and I kissed her like I meant to wipe away every trace of reason.
“You’ve come to start a war,” I muttered against her lips.
She pressed her body to mine, her voice low and sure. “Then raise your banners, Caelum.”
The way she kissed—gods, it unraveled something in me. Her hands fumbled at the buttons of my shirt with purpose, not grace. She shoved me backward, and I let her. My knees hit the chair, and I sat. She climbed onto me without waiting for invitation.
Her thighs locked around mine, bare skin against fabric, heat against hardness. Her fingers moved with precision, finishing what she started on my shirt. I slid my hands up the backs of her legs and traced the smoothness with my thumbs.
“You’re already soaked,” I said, barely able to form the words as she ground her hips down.
Her mouth curved. “You’re not the only one who’s gone without.”
I cursed under my breath, grip tightening. “You keep doing that, I won’t last long enough to see you properly ruined.”
“Then move faster,” she whispered, lips brushing my ear.
I didn’t wait.
I stood, lifting her easily, her legs wrapped tight around my waist. Her breath hitched. She clung to my shoulders, nails grazing skin as I carried her to the bed. I dropped her onto the sheets and looked down. Her hair spread wild across the pillow, her breasts rising and falling, lips parted.
“How long?” I asked, stripping what remained of my clothes.
Her gaze didn’t falter. “Since your sister walked through the gates.”
I nearly lost it then. I bent down and kissed her like it was the last thing I’d ever do, tasting the wine and defiance on her tongue. I slid into her in one hard thrust, and she gasped, her legs wrapping around my back as if to hold me there.
Her nails tore down my back. Her hips rose to meet mine. The bed creaked beneath us, headboard slamming in rhythm. Her cries grew louder, sharper, and I could feel her breaking beneath me—splintering beautifully.
“Look at me,” I said, breath ragged.
Her eyes found mine. They didn’t close again.
I grabbed her hips and flipped her. She gasped when I pulled her onto her knees, her elbows pressing into the mattress. I entered her again from behind, the angle deeper, harder. She arched back, and I cursed, losing whatever control I’d clung to.
Her voice broke into pieces. “Caelum—”
I gripped her tighter. “Say it again.”
“Caelum,” she moaned.
That sound—it did something to me. I wasn’t thinking anymore. I moved with nothing but need, chasing the edge that hovered just out of reach. Her body clenched around me, and when she cried out, shaking beneath me, I followed her over the edge.
My release tore through me. I collapsed over her, breath hot against her spine, unable to speak, to think. I stayed there, chest against her back, sweat cooling between us.
Eventually, I moved. Rolled beside her. My chest still heaved. My pulse pounded in my throat.
She lay quietly, her skin flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes half-closed. She didn’t speak. Neither did I. The fire popped once in the silence.
I sat up and dragged a hand down my face. I didn’t ask if it was just strategy. She didn’t ask if I would come to regret it.
But before she drifted off to sleep, she said it. Soft. Certain.
“We both just chose a side.”
I lay back beside her, staring up at the ceiling, unable to deny the truth in her words. She was right.
30
