Page 87 of The Sovereign: Part One
He watched me closely, his fingers flexing slightly where they rested on the nav ring.“Do you like it?”His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it, just shy of uncertainty.Not because he didn’t know my taste, of course he did.That was one of the many advantages of having a Supplicant partner.They knew you so intimately, their gifts mirrored the ones you would have chosen for yourself.
I ran my thumb over the graceful chain.“I love it.”
His shoulders eased, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.“Check beneath the insert.”
I lifted the shimmering lining, revealing a small, glossy photo tucked neatly beneath it.As I pulled it free, my breath caught.It was from our first date.The image caught us in a moment suspended between footsteps, his hand warm around mine as we drifted toward the car, lost in each other instead of the world around us.In his eyes, I saw everything: devotion, certainty, and the quiet promise of forever.
“Where did you find this?”I asked, running my fingers along the edge.
“I searched the system archives,” he admitted, watching my reaction carefully.“I… thought it would be perfect for your frame.I have another photo from the carnival if you’d rather use that one.Or we could choose a second frame together.Maybe selfishly, I’ve thought a lot about crowding the walls with proof of us.The life we build, every moment we never want to forget.Granted, it’s a far-outdated practice, but you said you like tangible things.”
“I did,” I whispered, my breath catching as I looked down at the photo.“I do.”
My chest physically ached as I looked down at the expressions on our faces, then gently placed it on the glidepanel, the sleek surface integrated with the transport’s primary interface.
“Isara?”
I turned back to Maxim, tears burning my eyes.“I love it.”
I traced my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and into his hair, drawing him closer as his breath caught—just for a moment—before our lips found each other, a gravity neither of us could resist.His hand rested on my knee, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric before he slowly slid it up to my hip, pulling me toward him as if he wished the console between us didn’t exist.
“Take me inside,” I breathed against his mouth.
Our lips parted slowly, breaths tangling in the charged silence between us before Maxim pulled away, his gaze lingering on mine for half a second longer—reluctant, wanting.Then, he stepped out of his slipgate, rounding the vehicle before I could even think to move.The panel eased open, and he swept me into his arms.The sub-bay entry recognized him instantly, a seamless panel sliding open to reveal a softly lit passage.The moment we crossed the threshold, it sealed behind us, the hush of the mechanism barely audible as he carried me up a handful of stairs, his hold firm, as if he had no intention of letting me go.
Another panel slid open, depositing us into the galley.
I kicked off my shoes, and then a slow, wicked grin spread across my lips.“We never finished that movie.”
He started toward the stairs, amusement gleaming in his gaze.“At this rate, we never will.”
Maxim carried me up the stairs, and with each step, my smile grew.To my mounting frustration, he didn’t rush.He simply held me, content, as if the very act of keeping me in his arms fulfilled the purpose written into his existence.As we neared the top, my heart pounded harder, anticipation tightening my breath.We had already proven that we were somehow hidden so, though Maxim had spoken of a measure of restraint until our Oathbond, I selfishly hoped that, this time, desire would eclipse his resolve.
My fingers pressed into his shoulder as we neared the top.I shouldn’t have been nearly undone by something as simple as being carried, but nothing about Maxim was simple.Not the way he touched me, not the way he saw me, not the way his presence seeped into spaces I hadn’t even realized were hollow.And yet, none of that was what unraveled me most with every step.It was the way I felt him everywhere: his arm solid at my back, his fingers pressing into the bend of my knee, the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, syncing our breaths as if he’d carried me a thousand times.
At the top of the stairs, Maxim paused for just a second, as if savoring the moment, then he crossed the threshold of our somna.The panel slid shut behind us, the ambient lighting bathing the space, casting elongated shadows across the walls.
He lowered me slowly, as if letting go was the last thing he wanted.My back met the bed, the cool sheets a contrast to the heat of his hands, and for a breath, a single, suspended second, his gaze was locked with mine before standing just long enough to remove his jacket and shoes.In the next moment, Maxim was on the bed with me, lowering himself until he was just inches away.With one elbow anchored against the mattress, he propped himself above me, his free hand brushing back a few stray strands from my face.He leaned down, offering a single cautious kiss, then he pressed his body against mine, sending fire through my veins.
I silently thanked myself for choosing an above-the-knee wrap dress—modest enough for brunch with my parents, but also thin, easily accessible, perfect for moments like this.My fingers brushed the tie at my waist, and with one tug, the dress loosened, the fabric slipping off the sides of my body, pooling beneath me as his gaze followed, slow and devouring, as if he were memorizing me—savoring me—before he ever laid a hand on my skin.
“You’re staring,” I whispered, my fingers trailing up his arm, the solid muscle beneath his sleeve flexing under my touch.
His lips curved slightly, but his eyes never wavered.“I’m studying.”
A breathless laugh escaped me.“Studying what, exactly?”
His fingers traced the curve of my hip, barely there, a hint of pressure that made my breath falter.With a gentle touch, he traced a slow path up my center, then drifted outward, following the rise and fall of my skin, teasing along the seams of my balconette bra.“Everything.”
The word settled between us, thick with intent.
With the slightest tilt of my hips, Maxim’s breath hitched, his eyes slipping shut as if he was working to regain his composure.“The things I’m imagining doing to you.”
I reached down, holding his stiffness through the very pants he’d carefully chosen to have a nice, peaceful day with my family.“Using your imagination while I’m undressed and beneath you seems like a terrible waste of time.”
His eyes opened, dark with intent.He started to speak but thought better of it.Then his mouth was on mine.
The first time he’d kissed me in our bed was unhurried, as if he wanted to savor it, to learn the shape of my mouth.His lips had brushed mine once, then again, before parting.But this time, there was no hesitation, no tentative exploration.This time, he wasn’t testing the water.He was stepping into the fire.
