CHAPTER 153: DESIRE

Lucas rose slowly, licking her taste from his lips, eyes dark with hunger.

"I’m not done," he said.

"Good," she whispered, breathless. "Because I’m not either."

He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her gently against the velvet pillows.

Then he stripped.

Each layer peeled off revealed another scar, another story. Her eyes roamed his chest, his stomach, the sharp lines of his hips.

"You’re mine," she said.

He smiled, dark and possessive. "Say it again."

She rose to her knees on the bed, kissed his chest once—right over his heart—and whispered,

"You are mine, Lucas."

He growled and pushed her onto her back, sliding into her in one smooth, perfect motion.

They both gasped.

The bond screamed between them—heat flaring, souls locking.

And then they moved.

Together.

Hard, slow, punishing.

Every thrust a silent confession. Every kiss a broken vow sealed again.

When she came again, it wasn’t a cry—it was a scream, the kind that ripped through her lungs as the moon burned bright above the bed. Lucas followed moments later, biting her shoulder hard enough to mark her.

They collapsed in a tangled heap of sweat and breath.

No words.

Just the sound of heartbeats syncing.

Eventually, Lucas reached up and brushed hair from her face.

"You’re dangerous," he murmured.

She smiled against his chest. "So are you."

He kissed her again—softer this time.

Not worship.

Just love.

The room had gone quiet again, but the silence was no longer heavy with unspoken things. Now it wrapped around them like silk. The bed was tangled, the sheets pulled halfway to the floor, their bodies still damp with sweat and soft trembles.

Athena lay on her back, hair spilled across the pillows like strands of silver light. Her chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of contentment. For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, she wasn’t wearing a mask.

Lucas propped himself on one elbow beside her, studying her like she was a secret language only he could read. His fingers traced idle circles across her stomach, every pass gentle, reverent.

"I thought it would be different," he murmured.

Athena turned her head. "What would?"

"Being with you. I thought it would be terrifying."

"And it’s not?"

Lucas smiled, that crooked, rare smile that always made her chest ache. "It is. But not in the way I expected. You don’t burn me. You calm the part of me I’ve spent years trying to cage."

Athena reached up and touched his jaw. "And you remind me I’m still a woman, even when the world keeps calling me goddess."

For a moment, they just breathed.

But it lingered between them—the hum of something unfinished. Not hunger. Not desperation.

Need.

Lucas leaned down, kissing her collarbone with aching slowness. His lips traced the line of her throat, her shoulder, her chest. He paused when her breath hitched.

"You feel it too," he said, voice husky.

She nodded.

"I want to take my time," he whispered.

"Then take it," she answered.

And he did.

He worshipped her like he had all night, but this time there was no storm. No crash of bodies or frantic need to silence months of tension. This was slower. More dangerous in its vulnerability.

Lucas kissed every inch of her—her ribs, her hips, the soft curve behind her knee. His hands moved like he was memorizing her all over again.

When he finally slid into her, it wasn’t with force.

It was with reverence.

She gasped—more from emotion than from sensation—and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He held himself over her, eyes locked to hers as their hips moved in slow, perfect rhythm.

No masks.

No power plays.

Just soul meeting soul.

His forehead pressed against hers, and she could feel him trembling slightly. Not from restraint.

From feeling.

"I love you," he whispered, like it hurt to say.

Athena’s fingers curled into his back. "I know."

He slowed even further, dragging each thrust out until she thought she would shatter. Their bodies moved as one, so in tune it felt like breathing.

She kissed his jaw, then his lips, then his heart.

"I love you too."

Lucas let out a sound between a groan and a sigh, and it sent a jolt through her—of completion, of surrender. She felt the bond between them pulse and deepen, wrapping tighter. Sacred. Eternal.

Their second climax came not with screaming, but with silence.

A shared breath.

A soft cry.

A final release into each other.

He held her afterward, tangled in her limbs, nose pressed into her neck. Her fingers traced slow lines down his spine, grounding them both.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t have to.

For now, there was no goddess.

No guard.

No council.

Just Athena and Lucas.

Two broken things made whole.

Athena stirred before the sun rose.

But it wasn’t sunlight that kissed her skin — it was moonlight, still lingering through the open curtains, casting silvery shadows across the tangled sheets. The fire in the hearth had gone low, just faint embers now, but Lucas’s warmth was steady beside her.

He hadn’t moved.

His arm was still draped across her waist, and his chest pressed gently to her back. His breath, slow and even, tickled the back of her neck.

Safe.

It was a strange word for someone like her.

But in that moment, it felt real.

Athena turned carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. She looked at him — at how peaceful he was in sleep. His lashes were thick, his lips parted slightly, and the bruises from training had already begun to fade along his shoulder.

A warrior. A man. Hers.

And yet... still so human in this light.

She reached up and brushed a strand of hair from his brow.

Lucas’s eyes fluttered open.

"You’re staring," he murmured, voice still deep with sleep.

"I’m allowed," she whispered back.

His lips curved faintly. "Is that a royal decree?"

She leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth. "Yes."

He pulled her closer, the sheet sliding down her bare back as his hand spread across her spine. "Do we have to get up yet?"

"I suppose I should make an appearance," she sighed, eyes half-closed. "The court will be watching. Whispers will start if I don’t—"