Page 97 of Haunted Crowns
He barely reacted. Her words didn’t seem to register. His lips dragged lower.
“Stephan.”
Still nothing. He pressed against her, lost in the unbearable need to take her apart.
She cupped his face, fingers trembling, dragging his gaze to hers like it was the last tether to reason. Their breaths collided, desperate.
She said it again, slower this time.
“The ceremony. The Crimson Vow. Move!”
This time, it landed. Agony flashed across his face. Then came the growl. Low. Raw. Torn from the pit of him.
He wrenched himself back, raking a shaking hand through his hair like he could scrape her off his skin. “Damn it.”
Eris scrambled off the bed, already grabbing his clothes, fumbling to shove the fabric into his hands.
“Slow down. I can dress myself,” he muttered, dazed, still drowning in the aftershock of her.
In a breath, he was dressed again, but the heat hadn’t faded. It still scorched the air between them.
She smoothed her robe with trembling fingers, then turned. “You need to go.”
He exhaled hard. “I swear, we always get interrupted at the worst damn moment.”
Eris chuckled, pulling him close, her lips finding his in a slow kiss. “Almost like we’re cursed,” she murmured.
He groaned, his hands lingering at her waist. She pulled open the door, only to find the tailor standing outside, mortified.
Eris flushed. “Stephan, go.”
But he didn’t move yet. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Tonight, after the vow, I’m going to fuck you like you’re already wearing my crown.”
A violent shiver raced down her spine. She gasped, breathless, then smirked, eyes wicked. “Then crown me properly. I want to feel it everywhere.”
One last look. Then he was gone, hurrying down the stairs, still burning for her.
The tailor stepped inside, visibly tense, as if sensing what she’d just interrupted. Eris fastened her robe with trembling fingers, trying to steady her pulse. The door clicked shut.
She exhaled, lips tingling, heat still pulsing between her thighs.
Tonight they would become one—in body, in vow. And if prophecy rose to tear them apart, let it rise.
She would burn the heavens before she gave him up. Even if it meant setting fire to fate itself.
Your Majesty,
Your proposal honors us. The House of Lestrelle has long respected Dragov strength, and to join our bloodlines through Bianca is a privilege we accept with pride.
She is young, but tempered. Obedient and raised in reverence of legacy. She will serve the crown with grace.
May this union strengthen the Firstblood throne and bind our Houses in fire and fidelity.
In loyalty and honor,
—Lord Fario Lestrelle Private correspondence to His Majesty, Raphael Dragov
Chapter 20
