Arthur walked away from the scene, his heartbeat refusing to calm, thudding wildly in his chest. The scuffle was over, the danger already past, but the rush in his blood had nothing to do with blades or fists. It was her.
Every time he closed his eyes, Victoria's silhouette lingered like a brand upon his thoughts. He had feared that she would catch the hunger in his gaze.
He could still see it, burned onto the back of his eyelids every time he blinked: the unexpected, perfect curve of Victoria's breast, pale and smooth in the twilight, the peak taut and pebbled from the sudden chill.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down his spine.
He'd forced his eyes away, meeting her fierce gaze, hoping his own showed nothing but professionalism.
She was a storm, a force of nature, and he felt like a sapling in her presence—bending, not breaking, but acutely aware of the immense power that could snap him in two.
"Not bad for a newcomer," Martina's voice cut through his haze. She fell into step beside him, her expression stern but not unkind. "Throwing dirt—it's crude, but it works. Most men would've panicked, but you reacted. You used what you had." She clapped him on the shoulder with a force that jolted him. "Maybe you'll last here longer than I thought."
Arthur managed a small nod. "I… just acted on instinct."
They reached the communal hall as twilight deepened. The heavy wooden doors opened onto warmth, noise, and the rich smell of food. Guards crowded long tables, their laughter mingling with the crackle of fire. Platters of rye bread and bowls of stew passed from hand to hand. Hunters had brought in rabbit and boar; the cooks had added herbs grown in the mistress's own gardens. There was spiced milk too, tart and strange to Arthur's tongue. It was food designed not to delight, but to sustain.
He ate little. The taste barely registered. His mind strayed first to the prisoner being dragged away to interrogation, but then, inevitably, to Victoria. Even while surrounded by noise and light, her image stalked him, all black corset and white trousers, hips curved like a challenge.
And if not Victoria, then Elise.
After the meal, the weight of the day settled on him. He made his way to the small, spartan chamber he'd been assigned, his thoughts inevitably drifting to his roommate, Elise.
She was all soft curves and warm smile, a stark contrast to Victoria's razor-sharp edges. He couldn't stop his mind from replaying the way the tissu stretched across her chest when she moved, the way her hips swayed.
A familiar, heavy heat began to coil low in his belly, and he felt a tightening in his trousers, a persistent erection growing as he fantasized about what he wanted to do with her, about the sounds she might make.
He pushed open the door to their quarters. The room was lit by a single oil lamp, shadows dancing on bare walls. Elise sat on the edge of her bed, her legs folded beneath her, her hair spilling freely across her shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes glinting, lips curved into a smile both playful and knowing.
"I heard you've already earned a reputation," she teased. Her voice was light, melodic, carrying just enough warmth to soften the words. "The newcomer who thinks fast on his feet and acting heroic."
Arthur didn't answer.
A boldness, fueled by the previous events and the vivid image of Victoria that still haunted him, surged through him. He crossed the small room in two strides and sat down heavily on the bed beside her, the old frame creaking in protest.
She blinked at the suddenness of it, her smile wavering into surprise, yet not displeasure. He reached out, cupping her cheek with one calloused hand. The gesture felt both daring and natural, as if his body had decided before his mind could protest. He hoped—no, trusted—that his talent of eloquence, that strange gift woven into his soul, would be enough to carry him through.
His thumb brushed her cheekbone, the touch tender, testing. His voice dropped into a low murmur, a tone that sought not just her ears but her heart.
"I was just thinking," he said, words flowing with deliberate calm, "I'd like to show you something heroic."
Elise laughed, a burst of sound quick and genuine. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in amusement. "Oh? That's rather direct for an approach."
The laughter eased him. Where Victoria's gaze had pierced him with a storm's ferocity, Elise's laughter was a balm, disarming and inviting. He let himself smile, leaning closer, keeping her hand lightly in his own.
"It's time for our wrestling session," he saidhe said, his tone leaving no doubt about the kind of wrestling he meant
With a surprised squeal, she let him push her back onto the thin mattress. His right hand found the generous, soft curve of her right buttock, squeezing the full, yielding flesh gently through the fabric of her pants. He felt the incredible warmth of her, the life and softness so different from his own hard muscle. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her body pliant under his.
And then, it happened. The voice resonated within his mind.
[Candidate identified: Elise. Compatibility: Suitable.]
[Objective: Consummate the bond to secure allegiance and add candidate to the collective.]
[Harem integration protocol initiated.]
Arthur froze for a fraction of a second. A slow smile spread across his face.
Elise frowned slightly at his pause, then softened. "Arthur? You've gone quiet."
He looked down at Elise without answering, her face flushed, her lips slightly parted. He lowered his hand from her buttock, sliding it up her side until his palm came to rest on the heavy, soft weight of her breast. Her eyes, wide and dark, shone with pleasure.
"Something heroic," he whispered again, and leaned down to claim.