Chapter 78: The Quiet Fortress

The fortress was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that came from peace, but the kind that settled after battle, the breath before the world decided what came next.

Isla stood on the balcony of their chambers, the night wind brushing against her skin. Below, the remnants of war still lingered, wolves tending to wounds, the scent of steel and blood still clinging to the air.

Vincent was gone but not defeated. She could still feel him like an ember that refused to die. A presence moved behind her, and before she even turned, she knew who it was.

Damian.

His warmth wrapped around her before his hands even touched her. He stepped up behind her, his body pressing to hers, his arms sliding around her waist.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Then…

“What happened back there?” His voice was low, rough. “The ruins, the power…”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, exhaling slowly. “I just… knew what to do. Like something was guiding me.”

His grip on her tightened. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She turned in his arms, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. His silver eyes flickered in the moonlight, sharp and searching.

“What are you afraid of?” she asked.

Damian hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he said, “Losing you.”

Her chest ached. She reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw, her touch featherlight.

“You won’t,” she whispered.

His gaze darkened and suddenly, the space between them felt too small and too charged.

Damian moved.

One moment, she was standing against the railing, the next, her back was pressed against stone, and Damian’s mouth was on hers.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. Desperate.

His hands roamed her body, one gripping her hip, the other fisting in her hair as he deepened the kiss. Isla gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, pressing her even closer.

She could feel his heart pounding against hers, his body tense with something more than desire. Something primal.

“Damian,” she breathed, her hands sliding beneath his shirt, nails dragging against hard muscle.

He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she pulled him back to her, her lips parting against his, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He growled, a low, deep sound that sent heat curling in her stomach. Then his mouth was on her throat, his teeth grazing sensitive skin.

A shiver ran through her.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against her skin, his lips trailing lower, his hands gripping her thighs, lifting her effortlessly.

She gasped as he carried her inside, pressing her back against the heavy oak door, his body pinning her there.

His mouth found hers again, hotter this time, more insistent and then he dropped to his knees.

Isla’s breath caught as Damian’s hands slid beneath her nightgown, pushing the fabric higher, his fingers tracing the curve of her thighs. His silver eyes flicked up to hers, dark with hunger.

Then… his mouth was on her.

A sharp cry escaped her lips as pleasure surged through her, her fingers gripping his hair as he devoured her.

The world faded, there was no war. No prophecy. No past or future, only this, only him and gods help her, she never wanted it to end.

After, as they lay tangled together, skin against skin, Damian pressed a lazy kiss to her shoulder.

Isla stared up at the ceiling, her heart still racing.

She should have felt sated. Content. But something still stirred inside her. A quiet knowing. A shift.

Damian’s fingers traced absent patterns on her stomach, his breath warm against her neck. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

She swallowed hard. She almost told him.

Almost.

But the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she turned in his arms, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Sleep,” she whispered.

He sighed but obeyed, his grip tightening around her as his breathing evened out. Isla stared into the darkness. One hand resting over her stomach and deep inside, she knew.

Something had begun and soon, there would be no hiding it.