Page 94 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

I tilt her chin up, brushing my lips against hers.

"Not for now," I say softly.

She smiles against my mouth, her body melting into mine, her breath warm as it mingles with mine.

I hold her there, savoring the way she fits against me, how the chaos of the past few days has led us to this quiet moment, this calm before whatever storm comes next.

I brush my lips over her forehead, lingering for a second before I pull away.

Her eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, but she watches me as I sit up. She doesn’t stop me.

The sheets slide off my body as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, planting my feet on the cool wooden floor. Theremnants of last night linger on my skin—her touch, her scent, the warmth of her body against mine.

I reach for my shirt, sliding it on effortlessly. I feel her gaze on my back, heavy, searching.

She doesn’t speak.

Not when I fasten the buttons of my slacks. Not when I roll up my sleeves, muscles flexing beneath the fabric.

It’s only when I run my hand through my hair, exhaling slowly, that she finally asks, "Where are you going?"

I glance over my shoulder, my eyes meeting hers.

A part of me doesn’t want to give her an answer.

Instead, I just say, “Come with me.”

She hesitates, but only for a second.

I watch as she pulls the sheets around herself, the fabric slipping off her shoulder as she sits up. She looks soft in the morning light, but I know better. She’s anything but.

As I stand, she reaches for my shirt—the one she wore earlier, the one she always steals. She pulls it on, rolling up the sleeves because it swallows her whole.

I smirk at the sight.

Something about her in my clothes makes my chest tighten.

She doesn’t say a word as she pads across the room, her bare feet muffled against the floor as she follows me.

The morning air is crisp, clean, a stark contrast to the heat of the night before.

I push open the balcony doors, stepping outside, the wind sweeping through my hair.

The city stretches before me, bathed in hues of gold and fire, the skyline glowing as the sun slowly rises.

This is my empire.

Everything I’ve built. Everything I’ve fought for. Everything I’ve killed for.

And now, she’s part of it.

I rest my hands on the cold iron railing, my gaze sweeping over the streets below.

Isabella steps beside me, her body warm against mine, her fingers brushing the edge of my sleeve. She doesn’t speak at first, just takes in the view like she’s seeing it for the first time.

I glance down at her. She’s beautiful like this—bathed in morning light, hair tousled, bare legs peeking from beneath my shirt.

She exhales softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

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