"Privacy is our right," I continue, meeting each glare with defiance etched into my features. "You will respect it, or answer to me."
They know I mean every word. I've spilled blood for less.
As the crowd begrudgingly disperses, I turn to Kathleen, my chest tight. Gods, what am I doing? She's so delicate beside me, so out of place in this world of iron and blood.
"Kathleen," I start, my voice a low rumble, "if I've overstepped?—"
"No," she interrupts, her voice small but certain. "You haven't."
There's a courage in her eyes that fans the flames of my respect. I've seen men thrice her size with less bravery. I nod once, fiercely proud of her, and fiercely protective.
"Come," I say, offering my hand. "Let's leave this place behind.”
One of my father’s men lets out an angry scoff, a sound laced with contempt as he eyes me, his glare as sharp as the knife he's been known to wield. My body is a canvas of bruises and cuts, a testament to battles fought and barely won, but it's the look in his eyes that tries to cut deeper than flesh.
"Men," he barks, turning on his heel with a swirl of his dark cloak, "we're leaving."
I watch them go, their heavy boots kicking up dust that mingles with the dying light. They leave like a storm receding, and I can't help but feel relief mixed with a sour twist of victory. It's fleeting, this moment of peace, as the weight of what comes next presses down upon me.
I want Kathleen more than I’ve wanted anyone.
But it’s…difficult. I’ve never cared for anyone else before. It’s overwhelming. Never in my life have I been more frightened. I love Kathleen, but I could lose her.
I’ve never had anyone to lose before, not since my mother.
Nightfall comes uninvited, swift, and cloaked in shadows that mirror the thoughts racing through my mind. Dinner with Kathleen is a quiet affair, the silence punctuated by the clink of silverware and the crackle of the hearth. I sense her tension, mirroring my own, as the space between us fills with an electric charge, unseen yet undeniable.
The thrum of want rumbles through my body at a pace I could not have anticipated. When I propositioned Kathleen, the emotions I am experiencing weren’t a thought in my mind. It's fitting that the lack of these feelings is the very reason I have never found a mate.
"Kathleen," I say, voice rough like gravel, "this night... it doesn't have to be what they expect. I—I stopped them from watching, yes, but if you're not ready?—"
Her eyes, wide and luminous, lock onto mine. There's a universe within them, swirling with emotions I can scarcely read. She nods, and I'm left wondering if she truly understands the magnitude of my words.
We ascend the stairs to the master bedroom, each step heavy with the weight of duty and desire. The door shuts behind us with a decisive click, sealing us away from the world and its prying eyes.
"Draknir," she whispers, her voice a tender note in the silence. "I..."
"Shh," I reply, stepping closer. "No words are needed, not now."
The room is still, save for our breathing, a rhythm that syncs and separates as we stand on the precipice of something intimate and unknown. I am a warrior, sculpted by strife, yet here I am, filled with trepidation at the thought of a simple touch, of crossing the chasm between obligation and want.
"Are you certain?" My question hangs in the air, a plea for assurance, for a sign that my desires are not one-sided, that she too feels this pull, this need that goes beyond duty.
In response, she closes the distance, her warmth radiating against my skin. Her courage astounds me, a flame that refuses to be snuffed out by the darkness of our circumstances. And with that, the last barriers crumble, and we are simply two souls reaching for connection in a world that has offered us little kindness.
"Draknir," she begins, her voice a threadbare whisper, "I know what is expected." Her gaze flicks down, then back to mine, a silent struggle scribed across her features. "You can,” she pauses, her mouth struggling to form the words she wants. “Command me.", she says after some hesitation.
"No," I whisper fiercely, closing the distance until I can feel the hesitant heat of her breath. "It's not about commands. Not this. You must want it, as I do."
Her brow creases in disbelief. "You want this?" The question hangs wrapped in innocence.
I nod. A simple gesture, weighted with the gravity of a thousand wars yet fought. She's so delicate and small. A fearful thought intrudes upon my need.
What if I break her?
"Kiss me." Kathleen whispers, the certainty of her voice spurs the pounding of my heart against my ribs.
"What?" I ask, her question breaks me from my thoughts.