CHAPTER 131: LONG ENOUGH...

Emerald sat at her desk, enjoying the warm afternoon light that flooded over a tidy stack of parchment. She dipped her quill in ink once more, carefully finishing the curve of calligraphy.

These weren’t just any letters; they were invitations, and each one was being written by her own hand.

The one she was working on now bore a name she knew all too well... Ares.

She lingered on the last flourish of his name, blowing softly on the ink to dry it.

"That’s a nice touch," a voice murmured just over her shoulder.

She jumped so hard the quill nearly tore the page. "Fvccck, Ares!" she exclaimed. "How long have you been standing there?"

Ares’s smirk was pure mischief. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Long enough."

Her brows drew together. "Where did you even come from?"

Instead of answering, he made himself at home, strolling to her bed and stretching out like he owned the place. His legs crossed lazily at the ankle, his arms tucked behind his head.

"You miss me?" he asked.

She returned the shrug. "Why would I?"

One dark brow arched. "That’s the answer you’re going with?"

Emerald set her quill down deliberately and turned toward him. "Yes."

He got out of bed slowly, closing the space between them. His fingers lightly touched her lips, just for a moment, but it was enough to send a shiver through her before she could react.

Her breath caught, her lips parting on instinct.

He leaned in, and her eyes fluttered shut. But instead of kissing her mouth, his lips hovered at the curve of her neck, then drifted lower toward her shoulder. His warm breath traced over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Did you forget where we left off," he murmured against her, "before that weakling mate of yours caused... unnecessary drama?"

Her lashes lifted at the name. "Adrien?"

"Mmh." His agreement was a low hum.

She took a step back, reclaiming a sliver of space between them. "Do you have any news on that?"

Ares tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something between amusement and warning. "You seem to forget..." He stepped forward again, his hand finding the curve of her waist, pulling her sharply back toward him. "...I’m the Rogue King, not your messenger."

A small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. "I thought you were just about willing to do anything for me."

His smirk deepened. "Careful with teasing me, little wolf. If I start, I won’t stop."

Her chin lifted. "What do you intend to do... Rouge King?" she drawled.

His eyes darkened at the dare, and before she could rethink it, his arm hooked around her legs. In one smooth motion, he tossed her back onto the bed.

A startled laugh escaped her as she hit the soft mattress, the sound quickly swallowed when his weight shifted over her.

Her pulse quickened. He caught her wrists easily, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other brushed down the side of her body, tracing the line of her waist to her hip.

"Ares..." she began, but the word dissolved into a gasp as his mouth found the hollow at her collarbone.

He worked his way lower, the heat of his breath and the rough graze of stubble pulling another sharp inhale from her.

Her fingers flexed against his hold, but not to push him away, and he knew it.

"You dared me," he reminded her in a low, satisfied voice.

Her breath hitched, a tremor running through her as his lips lingered against the hollow of her collarbone. The slow, unhurried pressure made her toes curl, and every nerve in her body seemed to lean toward him.

His grip on her wrists remained firm, his thumb brushing over her pulse in lazy strokes that somehow made her feel more trapped... more seen than she wanted to admit.

"Still pretending you don’t miss me?" His voice was a low rumble against her skin, the vibration sending a flutter through her chest.

She tried to answer, but the warmth of his mouth was already moving, tracing along her collarbone, dipping lower with deliberate slowness.

Her mind felt foggy, her thoughts pulling apart like silk threads.

"You’re not answering," he murmured, his breath fanning over the edge of her neckline.

His free hand slid from her hip to the inside of her thigh. His touch was maddeningly light, as if he knew exactly how close to get without giving her what she wanted.

Her chest rose and fell faster. "Ares..." she tried again, though it came out more like a whisper than a protest.

He tilted his head, his eyes locked on hers in a gaze so steady it rooted her to the spot. "You’re wound up," he said softly, almost teasing. "I can feel it."

He shifted, loosening his hold on her wrists just enough to trail his fingers down her arm, over her side, until his palm rested on her hip again.

She thought he might pull away, but instead he lowered his mouth to her stomach, his breath warm against the thin fabric between them.

Emerald’s hand twitched at her side, wanting to push him away, or maybe pull him closer, but he caught it, pressing it gently back against the mattress.

The bed dipped as he moved lower, his dark hair brushing against her skin. Each kiss he left was slower, deeper, until the space between them seemed charged, every beat of her heart echoing in her ears.

He glanced up once, his eyes glinting with something unreadable, before returning to his slow path downward. The air in the room felt heavier, thicker, and her breathing quickened in response.

Her thighs tensed instinctively as his hands slid down the outside of her legs, his thumbs pressing into the muscle in a slow, almost soothing motion. But then he nudged them apart.

Emerald’s pulse hammered in her throat. She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the sheets.

Ares’ smirk returned as he settled between her knees, his hands braced against her thighs, holding her open without a single word. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes said everything.

And when his face lowered, disappearing from her view, the only sound in the room was the rush of her own breath.