The night air carried the scent of rain still hovering somewhere over the palace gardens. The East Wing was quiet, save for the soft rustle of curtains brushing against the open windows and the distant hum of crickets outside.
Alexander stood by the window of his chamber, dressed in simple dark nightclothes, his hair slightly damp from a late bath. He had sent Damien away early that evening after the final training session...one that had ended not in exhaustion but triumph. He had walked unaided, unassisted but not only for minutes but throughout the session. Each step had burned into his memory, every heartbeat syncing with the echo of her name.
Sophia.
His Sophia.
The woman who had appeared like light breaking through a shuttered room. The healer who had restored not only his body but the shattered pieces of his will. She had taught him to stand, to fight, and perhaps most dangerously.....to hope again.
He turned from the window when he heard the familiar sound of her steps in the corridor, steady, graceful, unhurried. Yet tonight, there was something different in him, something simmering beneath the surface. His hands clenched at his sides, his pulse unsteady. For nights he had dreamt of this moment, when he would not be the broken one reaching out in gratitude, but a man capable of claiming the woman he loved with his own strength.
The door creaked open softly.
Sophia stepped in, her expression softened by the glow of candlelight. Her hair was half-tied, her robe a pale blue that seemed to shimmer as she moved. She smiled faintly when her gaze found him.
"You're still awake," she said, closing the door behind her. "I thought you'd rest early after the progress you made today."
Alexander didn't answer.
He simply looked at her, at the calm in her face, the curve of her lips, the quiet authority she carried so effortlessly. His eyes darkened, something fierce awakening behind them. When she took a few steps closer, her smile faltered slightly at the shift in the air.
"Alexander?" she murmured, a question laced with surprise and concern.
He didn't give her time to speak again. In a swift motion, faster and more decisive than she'd seen, Alexander crossed the space between them, catching her wrist and turning her toward the door. Her back hit the polished wood with a soft thud, her breath escaping in a gasp.
Before words could form, his lips were on hers...hungry, deep, and unrestrained.
Sophia froze for a fraction of a heartbeat, then melted beneath the weight of his touch. His kiss wasn't hesitant like before, nor was it careful. It was fire, raw and commanding. His hand slid to the back of her neck, anchoring her as if afraid she might slip away. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Her mind went silent for a moment, a rare, blissful quiet. No voices, no whispers, no stray thoughts from the world outside. Just him.
When he finally drew back, breath mingling with hers, his voice was rough. "Let me show you," he whispered against her lips, "how it feels… when your partner dominates you."
Sophia blinked, dazed by the intensity in his tone. She had seen Alexander's strength in his resolve and his words, but never like this. Never so direct. Her fingers curled into his shirt, her pulse racing as she searched his face.
"Alexander—"
But he silenced her again with another kiss, slower, more deliberate this time, as though to erase every doubt, every wall she'd ever built. His lips moved with a tenderness that contrasted the fire in his gaze, tracing the corners of her mouth, her jawline, her throat.
She could hear his thoughts now, clearer than ever.
She deserves to be cherished.
She gave me back my life.
Tonight… I'll give her my heart.
Her eyes softened, tears gathering as her fingers trembled against his chest. "You're trembling," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I'm alive," he murmured back. "For the first time in a long while."
His forehead rested against hers, and the silence that followed was heavy with emotions love, longing, gratitude, and something wordless that hung between them. His thumb brushed over her cheek, tracing the faint line of tears she hadn't noticed.
Sophia smiled shakily. "So this is how it feels… when the prince takes the lead."
He gave a quiet, almost amused breath, but the fire didn't leave his eyes. "Not the prince," he said softly. "Just a man who's in love with you."
Her heart clenched at the confession. For a moment, she could barely breathe. She lifted a hand, tracing his jaw, feeling the strength beneath her fingertips. "You've always been more than that," she whispered. "To me."
He kissed her again, this time gentler, slower. His lips moved with reverence, exploring, memorizing. Every touch carried meaning, every breath between them was a vow.