Romulus' POV
Morning crept into the wedding chambers like a cautious witness.
Pale light seeped through the gauze curtains, turning the air soft and gold, dust motes drifting lazily as though the night itself had been reluctant to leave. I lay still, one arm heavy across silk sheets, my body pleasantly spent.
And amused.
A low laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Last night had been… unexpected.
Not the act itself—I had known desire, known countless bodies and countless nights—but her. Almera had not come to me as the others had. No rehearsed submission. No practiced seduction meant to curry favor.
She had come trembling.
Honest.
It had been her first time. That much had been unmistakable.
I had told myself I would be gentle. I had been—at first. I had taken my time, guided her, listened to the small sounds she made when she forgot to hide them. But once I had tasted her—once restraint shattered beneath instinct and want—
I exhaled slowly.
