CHAPTER 35: THE WEIGHT OF DESIRE

[Leif’s Chamber—Continuation—Leif’s Pov]

"...Then what about Elowen?"

The moment her name left my lips, Alvar stiffened. His arms slid away from me, the warmth vanishing like ice melting in reverse, and his expression darkened, shadowed with something I couldn’t quite read.

"...Why did you bring her up?" His voice was low and deliberate, each word slicing through my chest.

I swallowed, fumbling for an answer. "I mean... she’s someone you promised to protect and support, right? So... eventually... you’d have to leave my side to—" My voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken feelings, trying to lace my words with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

Alvar didn’t answer. He just stared at me, calm and dangerous, that faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. And then—he leaned in. Closer. Way too close. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat. His face was a breath away, his eyes holding me captive.

"Are you... perhaps... jealous?" His voice was teasing and velvet-soft, yet it carried a sharp edge that made my knees weak.

. . .

. . .

"Eh?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly, studying me like a cat sizing up a particularly squirmy mouse. My pulse went into overdrive. I instinctively leaned backward, trying to create space, yet it felt like the air between us had been compressed into a magnet pulling me in.

"I mean... I am just asking," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, each syllable warming my chest. "After all... she is someone you... cannot ignore. That’s why..."

My gaze darted anywhere but his.

Damn him—how could he be so hot, so close, so infuriatingly perfect?

My hands twisted in my lap, trembling, while my heart thudded so hard I was sure he could feel it.

Alvar’s smirk softened into something gentler but no less intoxicating. His thumb brushed over my cheek, slow and deliberate, sending a spark of heat shooting straight to my core.

"She’s someone whose responsibility I’ve taken, Lief," he whispered, voice husky. "But... she is not someone who resides in my heart."

My stomach lurched.

"Because," he leaned in, closer still, his lips barely brushing mine, "that place... is already taken by someone else."

And then—soft, impossibly sweet—he pressed his lips to mine in a peck so delicate it made the world pause.

"...That someone," he continued, voice low and intimate, brushing against my lips like fire, "...is a man. A man who blushes like a girl... whenever I am near."

I froze, my brain short-circuiting, my chest tightening, and my mind screaming in delicious panic. Blinking, trembling, and entirely unable to speak, I realized... this man, this Grand Duke, this Alvar, had claimed me—not just in words, but in every glance, every touch, every teasing brush of his thumb across my skin.

And I... I didn’t want him to let go.

My chest was tight, my mind scrambled, yet every nerve screamed that just being near him was like standing on the edge of a volcano.

Then—his hand hovered impossibly close to my lips, fingers teasing, brushing the corner of my mouth.

"Can I...kiss you?"

"No. Not now... I... shall take a bath," I mumbled, trying to sound casual while my legs shook like jelly. I pushed at him with my noodly, weak hands. "Please... step away, Alvar."

He smirked, that maddening, predatory smile tugging at my sanity. "You remember your promise, right?"

I blinked, heart skipping a beat. "...Huh?"

He leaned in closer, voice dropping so low it made my knees wobble. "I want you to moan my name, Leif... and I hope you’ll teach me how."

Heat shot straight to my cheeks. My ears burned, and my stomach twisted in a delicious knot. I staggered backward, step by trembling step, until my legs carried me off the bed.

"I... I really should... take a bath."

He chuckled—a low, knowing sound that made my chest flutter. "Hmm... yes, do that. I am waiting here."

I staggered toward the bathroom, legs trembling like gelatin, heat still roaring through my chest. Every step felt like wading through honey, and I could practically feel Alvar’s gaze burning into the back of my neck.

"...I need to... I need to wash my brain after that," I muttered, fumbling with the door. "He’s going to be the death of me..."

I slammed the door behind me and fumbled for the bath supplies. Hands shaking, heart hammering, I splashed water over my face—then froze.

Because there, in the reflection of the mirror, was my own wide-eyed panic. And it was all Alvar’s fault.

I let out a groan and leaned against the counter. "Okay, Leif, deep breaths. You’re a ruler now. You’re an adult. You can handle... men who... apparently... take over your heart with a single smirk."

. . .

. . .

I blinked at the mirror, my reflection staring back like it was judging me. My hand drifted unconsciously to my lips, the faint brush of my fingertips making my stomach twist in ways I’d never thought possible.

And then... that voice, his words echoing in my head. "I want you to moan my name, Leif."

I froze. Heart hammering so hard I was pretty sure my ribcage was auditioning for a drum solo.

"...O-oh gods..." I whispered under my breath, nearly tripping over the floor mat. My cheeks flamed, hot enough to cook a roast. "...I... I guess... I’m gonna... lose my virginity today?"

The words felt ridiculous coming out loud—like a confession meant for the walls only—but I couldn’t stop the tremble in my voice. My reflection blinked at me, equally horrified and... excited.

I rubbed my face, muttering, "... Okay, calm down, Leif. It’s... it’s just... Alvar. And... maybe... definitely... completely terrifying."

A shiver ran down my spine, equal parts anticipation and sheer, unadulterated panic. "...I’m... so doomed."

***

[After Bath—Bathroom]

Water dripped from my hair as I tugged the bathrobe tighter, trying to cover... everything. My heart was hammering, a million thoughts colliding in my head.

"Wait... what’s the point?" I muttered to myself, blinking at my reflection. "He’s going to take it off anyway..."

. . .

. . .

What the hell was I even thinking? Why was I... preparing myself for sex? My thirty-one-year-old brain—Renji Takeda, professional, unflappable, soul untouched by any man—was screaming at me.

No. I had to be Leif Thorenvald. Twenty-one. Young, naive, flustered, and not ready, weird at all.

I squared my shoulders with ridiculous determination, ignoring the way my bathrobe clung damply to me, and stepped out of the bathroom.

There he was. Alvar. Sitting on the couch by the fire, wine in hand, the firelight dancing across his bare chest. Half-naked. Half-in-control. And all terrifying.

He looked up and tilted his head, cool and casual. "You took your time in there."

I froze, my stomach doing a full somersault. "...I... I was... um... washing," I stammered, trying to sound nonchalant while my robe threatened to betray me at every movement.

He raised an eyebrow, smirk deepening. "Washing, hmm? Or... savoring the thought of me waiting?"

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I yanked the robe tighter, muttering, "...Both? Definitely both."

Alvar’s smirk deepened, low and dangerous. "Come here... I shall apply the ointment for you."

"Huh? Ointment?" I stammered, blinking.

He picked up the green paste the elves had given us, stepping closer with that slow, deliberate grace that made my heart skip every beat. "Your wounds... haven’t healed yet, Leif. Come."

Before I could protest, he gently took my hand, guiding me to sit on the couch. My pulse was hammering in my ears as he knelt in front of me, hands rubbing the ointment slowly between his palms, the scent warm and herbal.

"I ordered no one to come near our room," he murmured, voice low and intimate, brushing a stray damp lock of hair from my forehead. "Told them you’d slept... tired from the journey."

I swallowed hard, heart racing as his fingers brushed against my skin. He lifted the hem of my robe just enough to reach the tender scratches along my side, rubbing the ointment in slow, deliberate circles. Heat spread through me—not just from the touch, but from the way he looked up at me, his gaze steady, commanding, yet oddly soft.

"I made sure no one comes near our chamber tonight," he continued, voice husky, almost a growl. "Because... tonight is going to be longer."

My breath hitched. Every nerve in my body screamed, heat pooling low and thick.

Before I could think, he stood, towering above me, and leaned closer, his hands firmly holding mine. I was trapped, pinned by his strength and by the intensity in his eyes. My chest heaved, and I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine.

"Do you... understand, Leif?" His voice was almost a whisper now, intimate, dangerous. "Tonight... it’s only you and me. No interruptions. No distractions. Just... us."

I nodded weakly, words failing me entirely as my mind went blank with desire and fear and the thrill of anticipation.

Alvar’s smirk softened into something gentler, almost predatory in its sweetness, and I felt it in my bones—he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. And neither, I realized with a trembling thrill, did I want him to.