CHAPTER 465: HE SHOULD BE .... (1)

Shelby could not see what was happening, but because she was latched onto Ian like a spider, her line of sight was not on the miserable Prince, and she did not want to care. At the corner of her mind, she was happy that those who had tried to harm her child had suffered their retribution.

She missed Ian so much that Selby could not help herself. As she started to relax in his embrace, she subconsciously started to caress his neck, her fingers trailing gently from the base of his neck through his hair.

Ian stiffened mid-step, but it was so subtle that none of the eyes watching them saw it. Maybe they were too engrossed in the shock of what the man had taken their Prince through.

That action from Shelby was his weakness. He was unsure whether she was being deliberate or not. He hoped that it was the latter because Ian knew that Shelby knew the consequences of turning him on sexually even though he longed to ravish his wife. It was neither the time nor the place for it.

As his mind wandered, her fingers, featherlight against his skin, sent an involuntary shudder down his spine. It was maddening! How something so simple could set fire to his senses. But she was the only one who could push him off the edge like that. Ian sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching as he fought the wave of heat rising within him.

He balanced her, cradling her bum well enough so that she was comfortable. Ian did not want to think of what could have happened to her had he been a second late. But then, her fingers had developed a mind of their own. When Ian did not know was that Shelby was horny as hell for some reason.

’Not now. Not here.’

They were in front of an audience, under the scrutiny of watchful eyes.... Watchful Faes, and though she was his wife, he could not ... would not ... let them see how easily she unravelled him. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, one palm moving up around her waist, the strain evident in the way his muscles tensed.

"Do you have any idea what you’re doing?" he growled lowly, for her ears only, his voice thick with restraint. "... Or are you truly this reckless, my Elfin?"

Though Ian asked the question, his tone betrayed him. It wasn’t a reprimand. No, it was far from it. It was laced with something softer, something indulgent. A quiet surrender hidden beneath the growl.

His fingers flexed against Shelby’s waist, his grip firm but not harsh. If anything, it was as if he were anchoring himself, bracing against the overwhelming sensation pouring into him.

Something changed in that moment, and only the two of them felt it, even under the keen and watchful eyes of all gathered. A warmth. It was gentle at first, like a flicker of flame that spread from her fingertips and seeped into him. It coursed through his skin, then deeper, winding through his veins like liquid fire. It was taken aback. All this was while still moving towards the largest chair he had seen in the room.

The sensation grew, intensifying like a river breaking through a dam. Suddenly, the two glowed. A radiant light, golden and shimmering, enveloped them both, pulsing in rhythm with their breaths and Ian’s steps. Gasps filled the air as the onlookers bore witness to the impossible.

Currey raised an eyebrow. He had seen something similar with Ian a few times back and the most prominent was on the night that he had formed the bond with Shelby. Despite this, he could not understand what this one was.

Murray was all but recovered in that short time span. From his position near the wall, he clenched his fists, watching his mistress with a mixture of relief and frustration.

"In the history of all shadow guards, I am probably the worst!" Though he had taken a major blow from that Time Witch and been flung like he weighed nothing and nearly been crushed to death under the force of that attack.

Murray was still beating himself up. He was okay! He was holding himself up again, unaided. No one would know the pain still simmering beneath his composed exterior. No one but him. Maybe Currey did, but still, it was unfathomable.

Murray should have been proud that he had been able to hold on long enough for help to come. But all he felt was guilt.

His hands, usually so steady, were gripping the wall and his brother like a lifeline. The injuries would heal, but the weight on Murray’s shoulders? That wasn’t going anywhere.

’She had almost died. Again!’

He watched as his master’s jaw tightened. It was subtle. Ian’s gaze darkened with a resolve so fierce it sent a shiver down both Murray and Currey’s spines. Whatever was going on with Ian was being interpreted differently by the two brothers, and they were not too far from the truth... even though their aim had been skewed a bit.

The brothers knew that hidden look. It was the same one from last time .... when they had sworn it would never happen again. And yet, here they were.

’What punishment awaits me this time?’

Murray swallowed hard. He wanted to say something, anything, but what could he offer? Apologies were worthless. So, instead, he tightened his stance, his own vow settling into place.

This time and in the future, he would not fail her. Ever!

’I will live for only my mistress!’

The glow from Ian and Shelby became more prominent, and that pulled Murray out of his thoughts, for he also remembered this phenomenon.

Ian’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating ever so slightly as the warmth surged between him and Shelby like a river breaking free from its dam.

However, before he could try to comprehend what was happening, a knowing smirk curled at Shelby’s lips, and she tilted her head ever so slightly. "Oh? And if I am reckless?"

This was her first relaxing mischief of the day... or in days.

Ian’s chest rose and fell, his restraint fraying at the edges. "Then, my dear wife," he murmured, his voice rough but unmistakably tender, "you should be prepared for the consequences."

And then, the power fully took hold .... cascading from her into him like a waterfall of pure energy, drowning him in its intoxicating pull.

"Uhg!" Ian grunted.

Before any of them could form an answer or a retort, the warmth spread .... unstoppable, consuming. It poured into him like molten gold, and the world around him all at once ceased to matter. Their minds were blank because the two did not even understand what was going on any more than the onlookers.

From Shelby, the torrent of energy continued to burst forth, cascading into him. She looked to be the initiator, but Shelby did not even understand what was going on. It streamed into Ian’s chest, swirling in light waves before wrapping around him like an ethereal embrace. His body arched slightly, his fingers tightening around her waist as his eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the sheer force surging through him.

Ian’s eyes zoned in on the largest chair, which happened to be the throne. Without much thought, he walked right up to it.

"Ughh!" He grunted again, but Ian was so overwhelmed by that power shrouding both him and Shelby, that he did not notice the discomfort walking up the stairs that the throne was on.

It was as if the power flow from Shelby to him and around them had provided a cushion for him. It was unclear how he had managed that feat, but he soon found himself in front of that seat and sat down. His hospital pyjamas were drenched in sweat, but he welcomed the relief of seating. He adjusted Shelby so that she sat sideways on his lap because she refused to be separated from him.

The very air around the two crackled and shimmered, the ground beneath them trembling as if bowing to their presence. Every strand of Shelby’s essence flowed into him, illuminating his form with a brilliance that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. It was raw. It was divine. It was endless.

The gathered crowd could not look away. Their eyes were transfixed, drawn to the breathtaking spectacle before them. They were witnessing something beyond comprehension .... a connection so profound and boundless that it defied logic and wove itself into the very fabric of existence.

Prince Syla paled as soon as Ian sat on the throne. The hairs on his back stood up, because, in that moment, Syla realized another thing... this was something he could recognize even in his sleep,

"That feels so much like Roman’s power.... " Ash whispered, terrified beyond her wits. These were exactly the words that Syla had thought of but dared not to say out loud. His heart hammered. He could not believe it, but the signs were there.

The ensuing silence was deafening. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and before anyone could fully grasp what had happened, their bodies moved instinctively. One by one, they fell to their knees .... not out of force, not out of fear, but out of something far greater.

It was as if the very air had shifted, thick with an undeniable weight of power. No one had ordered them to kneel. No threats had been uttered. And yet, the realization struck them all at once. Not even the fact that their Prince had been humiliated and nearly killed was a deterring factor, especially when one of the Faes uttered,

"Did he just sit on the throne?"

The whisper barely carried through the massive hall, but it was enough. A shudder passed through the gathered Faefolks, as if the truth of those words had lodged itself deep in their bones.

It wasn’t just anyone who had taken that seat. It wasn’t just any act.

They were all seeing it!

This was a shift in fate. A moment they would never forget.

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