His fingers rise slowly, giving me every second to pull away. I don’t.
His thumb traces the edge of my cheekbone, a featherlight touch that lands like lightning. My breath stutters in my chest. My pulse kicks, too loud in the quiet.
“Gemma.” My name is a raw thing in his mouth. Not a question. Not a plea. Just a truth he can’t keepinside any longer. His gaze finds my lips again, and he exhales. “I may not know how the Tower works or why its magick chose us. Maybe I’ll never understand it.”
He leans in, forehead brushing mine, our breaths mingling in the narrow space between us.
“But I know this.” His voice drops, steadier now, full of something that makes me ache. “Whatever force pulled me to you—whatever split the sky open and set this in motion—I’d let it break me a thousand times over if it meant I’d find you again.”
My throat tightens. My heart melts against my ribs.
“I’ve walked through kingdoms where my name meant everything. I’ve sat on a throne and felt nothing. I’ve had riches, power, adoration.” His hand finds my mine, wraps gently around it. “And none of it—not a single crown, not a single victory—made me feel alive until I met you.”
I’m not breathing. I don’t think I can.
“I don’t want this because the Tower says I should,” he finishes, eyes burning into mine. “I want it because you are the only thing in this entire realm—this world—I can’t live without.”
I feel the crack form. A hairline fracture through everything I’ve tried to hold together. The part of me that’s been standing guard, that’s been clinging to anger and logic and reason—it falters, collapses.
I let out a shaky breath and try for levity, something flippant to counter the way he’s made me feel like the center of the universe. “I thought I said no grand gestures.”
His lips tip into a smile. “That wasn’t a gesture. That was the truth.”
And then he leans in, impossibly gentle, impossiblysure, and kisses me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
And I let him.
Because maybe it is.
His tongue glides along the seam of my lips, teasing, coaxing. His fingers tangle in my hair, threading through the strands with just enough force to tilt my head back.
A soft gasp escapes me, and he takes his opening, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue sweeping inside, claiming, devouring. Chocolate brushes my tastebuds as he licks into my mouth, the sweetness mixing with something deeper, darker. Something that tastes like home.
A groan rumbles in his throat, vibrating against my lips, and it sends a hot rush straight through me. My nails scrape against his chest, and he shudders, his breath coming faster, rougher.
“You taste like chocolate,” I murmur without thinking.
His hands slide down my back, gripping my waist, pressing me flush against him. “Then keep tasting. Until I’m the only flavor you remember.”
I don’t have time to think before my fingers are fisting in his shirt, and his breath is on my neck. The space between want and ruin has never felt so thin.
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t demand. Alderic just watches me unravel beneath the weight of my own hunger. And then, like he can hear my every secret thought, he turns toward the platter beside us. His movements are unhurried and sinfully confident as he plucks a strawberry from the plate next to the chocolate. He dips it into the goblet, coating the fruit in thick, molten sweetness, then drags it slowly across my bottom lip.
“Open,” he says, his voice rough with want.
My breath catches. Heat coils low in my belly, pulsing between my thighs. I obey, parting my lips, the molten chocolate smearing over my skin.
His gaze burns as he slips the berry into my mouth, his thumb grazing the corner as I close my lips around the fruit.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I didn’t think you could look more delicious.”
The taste is decadent—rich, dark, sinful. The chocolate curls over my tongue, its warmth spreading through me. I hold his gaze as I take a slow bite, the sweetness bursting between my teeth. A single drop of chocolate slips down my chin, and before I can wipe it away, Alderic leans in and catches it with his tongue.
His moan is low, wrecked.
“Chocolate and you—two of my favorite things together,” he breathes, dipping his fingers into the sweet dessert and dragging them across my collarbone.
I shudder, breathless, as he follows the path with his tongue, licking the chocolate from my skin.
