CHAPTER 103: HORRORS OF THE PAST

{START OF MATURE CONTENT}

Aiden’s POV

I sucked in a breath, holding myself back as I watched her. Her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling with every shaky inhale. Fuck. She was beautiful like this—flushed, needy, barely holding herself together.

Dragging my hands up her sides, I tightened my grip on her hips, feeling the way she trembled under my touch. I wanted to take my time, to savor every second of this, but patience had never been my strong suit. Especially not when it came to her.

With one swift motion, I yanked her shorts down her legs and tossed them aside, my eyes locked on her face the entire time. Her pupils were blown wide, her skin feverish beneath my fingers. I could tell she was waiting—anticipating what came next.

I smirked. Impatient, aren’t we?

Pushing my jeans down just enough, I freed myself, a low groan slipping past my lips when I felt the cool air against my skin. I positioned myself between her legs again, pressing my body flush against hers. Her warmth, her scent—fuck—it was almost too much.

"This is gonna hurt a little," I murmured, my voice rough, my control hanging by a damn thread. I traced small circles against her hip, trying to ground myself. "Since it’s your second time, it won’t be as bad. And you already came twice, so..." My thumb brushed over her lower lip, watching as she sucked in a shaky breath. "That should help."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she nodded, her eyes meeting mine with something that made my chest tighten. Trust. Need.

I didn’t wait. I couldn’t.

I pushed forward, slow, controlled, feeling the way she stretched around me, hot and tight and perfect. A shudder ripped through me, and I had to clench my jaw, forcing myself not to slam into her all at once.

She gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her body arching toward me.

"Breathe," I murmured, pressing my forehead to hers.

Her nails raked down my back as she adjusted to me, and I swore under my breath. She was clenching around me, her body pulling me in deeper, and my restraint was fucking slipping.

I slid one hand between us, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing slow, teasing circles, watching the way her body responded. Her legs tightened around my waist, her lips parting as a soft, desperate moan slipped out.

"Fuck, Alexia," I groaned, my lips finding hers in a searing kiss.

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her dazed, half-lidded eyes. "Still with me?"

She nodded, barely able to form words. Good. Because I wasn’t done with her yet.

I didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way her body fit against mine so perfectly, the way she gasped my name like it belonged to her, or the way her fingers clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded.

But suddenly, the thought was there. I love her.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. My movements faltered for a split second, my grip on her tightening as if that would somehow stop the flood of emotions crashing over me.

No. No, it’s just the sex talking. It had to be.

I drove into her deeper, chasing that high, hoping that if I lost myself in the pleasure, I could drown out the thoughts. But the more I moved, the more I lost myself in her—the way she gasped, the way her body arched for me, the way she whispered my name like a prayer—the stronger it became.

I felt something. Something I wasn’t ready for. Something dangerous.

I bit down on her shoulder, needing an anchor, needing to focus on anything but the way my heart was fucking racing. "Alexia..." I groaned against her skin, my voice rough, almost desperate.

Her hands slipped into my hair, tugging, pulling me closer, and fuck, I melted into her touch. I kissed her—deep, hungry, like I was trying to pour everything I felt into it without saying a damn word.

She moaned into my mouth, her body tightening around me, her nails leaving trails of fire down my back. And that did it.

I lost it. Completely.

My rhythm became desperate, my control shattered as I pushed her closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me," I breathed against her lips, my forehead pressed to hers. "Let go."

Her body tensed, and then she shattered, crying out my name as she unraveled around me. I followed seconds later, burying myself deep inside her as pleasure tore through me, leaving me breathless, spent, and completely fucking wrecked.

{END OF MATURE CONTENT}

I stayed there, my body pressed against hers, my breathing ragged as I tried to gather myself. But I couldn’t. Not when she was still wrapped around me, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back, her breaths soft and uneven against my neck.

I should move. I should say something. I should pretend like nothing just happened.

But instead, I just held her.

And that terrified me more than anything.

Her breathing slowed, the rise and fall of her chest evening out as exhaustion crept in. I could feel the way her body relaxed against mine, her fingers loosening their grip in my hair, her legs sliding down from around my waist as she melted into the mattress beneath us.

I should have moved away. I should have pulled out, rolled over, created some space between us. That’s what this was supposed to be, right? Just pleasure. No emotions. No attachment.

But instead, I stayed right where I was, watching her as sleep slowly took her.

Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, her lips still slightly parted, swollen from my kisses. A soft, contented sigh escaped her lips, and something in my chest twisted.

Fuck.

I swallowed hard, running a hand through my damp hair. This was dangerous. She was dangerous. Because the way she looked right now—sated, peaceful, tangled up in my sheets—made me feel things I had no business feeling.

I traced my fingers over her bare shoulder, watching the way her skin reacted to my touch even in sleep. The thought of someone else seeing her like this, touching her like this, made something dark coil inside me. Mine.

I clenched my jaw. That wasn’t part of the deal.

She shifted slightly, curling toward me, her body seeking warmth even in unconsciousness. My arm moved on its own, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. Her head rested against my chest now, her breaths fanning over my skin.

I exhaled, staring at the ceiling, feeling more unsettled than I ever had in my entire life.

She was asleep. And yet, I was the one falling.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, lying there with her in my arms, my body still humming from everything we had just done. The room was quiet except for the sound of her breathing—slow, steady, peaceful. Meanwhile, my mind was a fucking mess.

I told myself it was just the sex. That the way I was holding her, the way I didn’t want to let go, was just a mix of post-orgasm haze and exhaustion. That it didn’t mean anything.

But it felt like something.

Her warmth, the way she unconsciously pressed closer to me even in sleep—it did something to me. Made me feel something unfamiliar, something I didn’t want to name.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face.

I should move.

I should put some space between us, remind myself what this was—what we agreed on. But instead, I tightened my grip on her, my fingers tracing lazy circles on the small of her back.

She shivered slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips, and fuck, I felt it everywhere.

I closed my eyes, breathing her in. Her scent was all over me, on my skin, in my sheets, tangled in my fucking soul.

I needed to stop.

I needed to get up.

Instead, I buried my face in her hair, my lips brushing against her forehead as I whispered, "What the fuck are you doing to me, Alexia?"

She didn’t answer. Of course, she didn’t. She was asleep, completely unaware of the war waging inside me.

I stayed like that for a long time, listening to the sound of her breathing, feeling the way her body fit against mine.

And when sleep finally pulled me under, I let it.

With her still in my arms.

*******

One moment, I was lying in bed next to Alexia, her warmth still lingering on my skin. The next, I was somewhere else—someone else.

—

The scent of damp stone and burning torches filled the air. The walls of the palace loomed high above me, draped in silk and gold that only reminded me of how little I had, how much I wasn’t.

I stood in the servant’s courtyard, my heart pounding as I looked at Mira, my love. She was smiling at me, the kind of smile that made my shitty life feel worth something.

"I love you," I told her, gripping her hands tightly, desperate for her to know that even in this world where we were nothing, she was everything to me.

She gasped, her cheeks flushing as she squeezed my fingers. "Aiden..."

A cruel, sharp laugh cut through the air.

I turned sharply, my stomach dropping as I saw her.

Princess Alexia.

She stood at the top of the stone steps, draped in the finest silks, her golden jewelry shimmering under the flickering torches. But it was her expression that froze me—the sheer fury in her eyes.

"My slaves dare to form attachments?" she said coldly, descending the stairs slowly. "How disgusting."

I clenched my fists, rage boiling beneath my skin, but I lowered my head. I had no power here. I had nothing.

Alexia stopped in front of me, her delicate, perfumed hand reaching out to lift my chin with a single finger. "You are mine, Aiden. Do you understand that?"

I gritted my teeth but nodded.

She turned to Mira, her expression darkening. "And you. You have no right to look at what belongs to me."

"Please, Your Highness," Mira whispered, bowing her head. "We meant no offense—"

"Silence."

Her voice was sharp, cutting like a blade. She turned back to me. "Twenty strokes for you," she said coldly, then glanced at Mira. "Ten for her."

The world blurred in my fury.

"Why?" I demanded, stepping forward before the guards seized my arms, forcing me down. "She has done nothing."

Alexia’s lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with something dark, something twisted. "Because I can."

The lashes came down hard, burning fire into my back, but I didn’t scream. I refused to. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Mira wasn’t as strong. Her cries echoed in the courtyard, each one like a dagger to my chest.

And then, Alexia laughed.

She was enjoying this.

Something inside me snapped.

"You will regret this," I growled under my breath, my body trembling with the force of my rage.

She only smirked. "I don’t think I will."

—

I thought that was the end of my humiliation.

I was wrong.

That night, Alexia had me dragged to her chamber. I expected another punishment. Maybe more lashes, maybe even death.

But she had something worse in mind.

She sat on her throne-like chair, legs crossed elegantly as she watched me with a cruel amusement.

"If you want your little Mira to live," she purred, "you will prove to me that your affections for her are meaningless."

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. "What do you mean?"

She snapped her fingers.

Several slave women were brought in—girls who were forced into servitude the same way I was. They lined up before me, their eyes filled with fear and shame.

"Take them," Alexia ordered, her voice devoid of mercy. "All of them. Here. Now."

My blood ran cold.

"Or," she continued, her voice light, teasing, "I can always have Mira executed instead."

I looked at Mira, bound and kneeling at the side of the room, her eyes wide, filled with terror. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head. "Aiden... please..."

But what choice did I have?

I turned back to Alexia, my hands curling into fists.

I wanted to kill her. Right then and there, I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and end her wretched existence.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

So, I did what I had to.

I stepped forward, my jaw clenched so tightly I thought my teeth would break. The first girl trembled as I reached for her, and I hated myself. Hated her. Hated all of it.

Every touch, every thrust—it wasn’t for pleasure. It was punishment.

And as Mira sobbed, watching the person she loved being used as a plaything for a cruel princess, I made a vow.

I will kill you, Alexia.

No matter how long it takes, I will destroy you.

—

I jolted awake, my breath ragged, my body covered in sweat.

Alexia was beside me, sleeping peacefully, her face soft in the moonlight.

My hands shook.

What the fuck was this?

Was this really just a dream? Or was it something more?

And why the hell did it feel so real?