CHAPTER 39: 39

As I watched Carmela sleep, a soft smile tugged at the side of my lips. I hated the fact I was about to wake her but the bedsheet had to be changed. Scanning the room for somewhere to lay her, my eyes landed on the wide couch at its center. Carefully, I lifted her, cradled her against my chest, and laid her down so the bed could be tended to.

I carried the stained sheet to the laundry basket, then smoothed the fresh linen over the mattress. Still, I felt a low, nagging unease throbbed at the edge of my thoughts, and a pressure I couldn’t shake.

"You’ve surprised me, by how far you’ve changed. Changing sheets? For a man who buries himself in papers?" The voice cut through the quiet familiar, and yet one I dreaded.

Demons and men interrelating is one blurry line that can never been imagined. In my case, the line between host and parasite became invisible or maybe ...complicated. This thing wasn’t the same as the old stories of one being possessed. It was different.. and it lived inside of me, a companion I had learned to coexist beside.

Years of therapists had ended predictably, personality disorder, trauma, a diagnosis I refused to accept and so I dived into exorcisms which failed a number of time after which I decided to stop trying and started coexisting and that was how it changed everything.

I put Carmela back on the bed and headed for the bathroom. The mirror met me with a grin that wasn’t mine mischief sparking in its eyes that shined bright despite the dull lighting

"You promised you wouldn’t show," I said, trying for firmness.

"Oh? This is how you welcome me? After months of sleep I stir up the house and get no thanks?" it mocked, amusement threading its words.

"It’s not that.."

"You swallowed their poison and it woke me.." it scoffed . "Consider yourself lucky to have me, because without me, you’d be long gone, and yet you still have the guts to speak rudely to me"

I almost rolled my eyes seeing it’s attitude, but the creature’s tone nudged me onward.

"Go see the old man," it suddenly suggested, and a sliver of understanding cut through the fog as I tried to build even more walls

"Which old man?" I asked, though the name was just beyond reach.

"You still haven’t found whoever’s watching you," it said narrowing his eyes at me . ".. an heir can’t be blind."

"I never wanted the throne," I spat back as the truth tasted like ash in my mouth. "My enemies are too many, and the moment I try to keep one in check then another goes haywire " I sighed king

"Will you give up?" it prodded. "What about Carmela? Will you let another claim what’s yours?"

My visions began uncoiling as I remember my father, the chauffeur who had carried us through a life of half-truths then disappeared midway, then a stranger who revealed himself as none other than my grandfather. He had been kept from us, a ghost in my father’s stories about his true origins, and learning of him shattered whatever normal I’d believed in.

My father had been the scion in name only. He had failed an assignment to kill the Aron matriarch and paid for it with his life. Denied his birthright, betrayed by men who wore the titles of family, he died and is now long forgotten to have even existed. I had been forged by that pain, trained for vengeance. But the old man’s plan had never been simple, I was being eased toward a crown I had once run from.

"What if he’s behind this?" I asked. "If I can’t find the hand pulling the strings, it means it’s one of the four families that make up the dynasty."

"The Dean, Dalton, Orlèans, Medici?" It spilled the names effortlessly earning a nod for me.

"Unlikely," it countered. "He holds no grudge against your mother’s line. So why target Carmela?"

I looked away remembering Carmela’s lineage was a secret I’d die to keep. The weight of my choices settled in my chest. Power would be necessary I agreed, but now the summons the old man had extended what I know as a bait.

...

The sunlight touched my face and Carmela stirred against me, warm and steady. She woke with the soft intimacy of someone who trusted the person beside her. I watched her blink awake, the sight of her more dangerous than any blade.

"Did you stay up all night?" she asked, pouting as she cupped my face. The way her fingers fit against my jaw loosened something inside me.

"I couldn’t stop looking," I admitted, low and private. Before she could sink into thought, I kissed her. But it wasn’t tentative, it was all the need and restraint I’d been holding folded into one motion.

Our mouths moved with urgency and demand. When her tongue met mine, I sucked and tasted all the chaos and calm that was her. I broke the kiss and shifted her into my lap. She gripped the sleeves of my oversized shirt, the rough of my stubble against her palms grounding us both.

"We don’t have to be in love," she whispered, breath hot against my ear. "I don’t have to be perfect. But I should be the only woman you belong to until our contract is up."

"My kind of love isn’t soft," I murmured back, kissing the hollow of her throat. "It’s not easy." I pulled her to lock eyes with her

"Then lock me up and throw away the key," she teased, nudging her nose against mine. "Even if you leave me with nothing when the day fades..."

"That’s the kind of love I want," I said, truth as hunger began mixing in my voice.

She looked at me, something fierce and trusting in her eyes, and it startled me, obsessions were harder to break than crowns... and who knew that fact better that I do. My body answered on its own something hardening beneath the cloth and she flushed at the sight. When she tried to look away, I drew her back by a sweep of hair, our mouths colliding again and our tongues forming a connection.

I nipped her lower lip then kissed her deeply while unbuttoning her shirt. Cloth fell away, and I cupped her, tasting and teasing her at the same time. She arched back as, breath hitched,the urge between her legs flaring hotter.

As I slid a finger between her thighs, slow and exacting, I watched her bite down on her lip, muffling a small cry as my mouth worshiped her breasts. She suddenly tightened her muscles curling around me as I entered her with careful force, watching for any flash of pain. But she only gasped, and then adjusted,what could have been sharp, softened into something luminous.

"You should" I rasped near her ear, "ride me."

Her response was instinctive. Her brown eyes met mine as they grew wider but still hollowed only by want and desire. We moved together with a rhythm that felt like recognition and claim. I guided her hands to my shoulders, while my hands found her waist.

I felt the cadence change as she found her own pace. Every shift was private and absolute, but yet with a trail of aggression.

Her fingers clutched at the sheets, nails biting into the fabric as if the tension in her body needed somewhere to escape. A knowing smirk curved my lips as I shifted my rhythm, faster, deeper watching her arch beneath me, her cries spilling into the air like a secret only I was meant to hear. Each sound from her lips fueled me, pulling me further into the storm of her surrender.

Her skin was slick with heat, glistening under the faint glow of the lamp, and every thrust seemed to unravel another thread of her restraint. She begged without words, her body trembling against mine, every shiver and gasp telling me she wanted more. I leaned close, my breath ghosting over her ear, murmuring things I knew would make her shiver harder. My hands mapped her, gripping and caressing with equal hunger, memorizing the curve of her waist, the softness of her thighs, the arch of her neck as she bared it in abandon.

Slowly, we gave ourselves over our two bodies tangled onto one rhythm, one fire. The climax came like a breaking tide, violent yet exquisite, leaving us collapsing into each other, drenched in sweat, breathless and shaking.

When the storm ebbed, I didn’t let her go. Our eyes locked, her lips parted as though she wanted to speak but dared not. I traced slow circles on her back, deliberately lingering near the mark I’d left possession disguised as tenderness. She melted against me, her cheek resting on my chest as her breath steadied, drifting toward sleep.

I kissed her forehead, soft but deliberate, and my eyes lingered on the faint bruise, the proof of my claim etched on her body like ink. She thought it was nothing more than passion, but I knew better. That mark was a vow, a brand, a promise she had yet to understand.

She wanted only a year. A neat, fragile contract she could control.

But I already knew, I would never let her go.. even when the year ended