Lucas’ lips slowed against her nipples until he finally pulled away, his hand still resting gently on her cheek, his thumb brushing the flush of her skin. He looked into her eyes, those deep, royal eyes that had always carried themselves with confidence, but now flickered with sothing fragile, almost desperate.
"Princess..." his voice was low, uncertain. "Are you sure you want this? ?"
Her breath ca uneven, her lips slightly parted as though still yearning for the kiss he had just stolen away. She nodded quickly, almost frantically, as though afraid that hesitation might cost her the chance to feel that bliss again. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling but her eyes burning with determination. "I’m sure."
Lucas didn’t move, didn’t rush to claim her nipples again, even though the urge pulled at him. Instead, he studied her carefully, his brows drawing together. "Why?" he asked finally, his tone firm but gentle. "Why do you really want ?"
The question caught her off guard. Her lips quivered, and she leaned back a little, sitting upright as though the weight of her secret pressed down upon her shoulders. Slowly, her hands ca up to cover her face, and she exhaled shakily.
Lucas frowned, his chest tightening at the sight of her distress. He reached out, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close into his chest. "Hey... you don’t have to hide from ," he murmured softly, stroking her dark hair as she trembled against him. "Whatever it is, you can tell . I’ll listen."
For a long mont, she only nodded against his shoulder, her breathing shallow, her palms still pressed to her face. Finally, with a quiet gasp, she lowered her hands, revealing her tear-stained cheeks. Her voice wavered as she spoke, but the words carried a weight heavier than any confession she had made before.
"Xavier... there’s a king," she began slowly, her eyes glistening, "... from a kingdom far more powerful than ours. My father... he told this Emperor is coming soon to ask for my hand in marriage."
Lucas’ brows furrowed sharply. "Marriage?"
Nyx nodded, her hands tightening in her lap. "Yes. To the Emperor of Rus. Their armies are vast and powerful...Father... he needs the alliance. He said it’s the only way to secure our borders and strengthen our kingdom against the inevitable war...He cannot refuse."
Lucas sat back slightly, his jaw tightening. "So... you don’t have a choice."
"No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don’t. I have to accept it. Even if I don’t want to. Even if I..." She stopped, swallowing hard before eting his eyes again. "Even if I have to leave behind everything I know. I don’t even speak their language, Lucas. I’ll be nothing more than a bargaining piece... given away to strangers."
Lucas’ chest burned at her words, the unfairness of it striking deeper than he expected. He reached out again, holding her hand firmly, grounding her trembling fingers with the strength of his grip. "Nyx... that isn’t fair. You deserve better than that."
Her lips trembled, and fresh tears welled in her eyes. She leaned closer, clutching his tunic tightly as though he were the only anchor she had left. "That’s why... that’s why I want this," she whispered desperately. "That’s why I want you."
Lucas blinked, confusion flickering in his gaze. "?"
"Yes." Her voice was almost pleading now. "I want you to be my first. Not him. Not so stranger who sees as nothing but a queen to claim. I want to give myself to you, Xavier. Because with you... it’s real. With you, I feel alive, I feel seen. And..." her voice faltered, her eyes brimming with tears, "I want you to make pregnant."
Lucas froze, her words hitting him like a sudden blow to the chest. He stared at her, stunned, his mouth parting but no words coming out at first. "Nyx..."
She clutched his hand tighter, shaking her head quickly as though afraid he would pull away. "Please... if I carry your child, then they cannot send away.... I won’t be forced to live among strangers....Please, Xavier... I want this. I want you. I need you to do this for ."
Lucas’ breath caught in his throat. His mind was a storm, her words stirring emotions he couldn’t easily untangle. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her; her kiss still lingered sweetly on his lips, and the way she looked at him set fire in his veins. And her exceptional and vast Yin energy...he couldn’t afford to let it go...and he couldn’t betray this kingdom too.
"Nyx," he said finally, his voice rough, "do you understand what you’re asking of ? If I do this, I’m betraying the King. He trusts , and this... this would be treason."
"I don’t care," she whispered, her tears spilling freely now. "Let be yours, Xavier. Just yours."
Lucas’ chest tightened painfully as he held her trembling form, torn between duty and desire, between what was right and what his heart and cultivation was screaming for. He stared down at her tear-streaked face, his mind spinning, his body frozen.
He didn’t know what to do.
Lucas reached out and gently brushed his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the last traces of tears that clung stubbornly to her lashes. His touch lingered for a mont, soft and careful, as though he feared she might break if he pressed too firmly. Her breathing steadied under his hand, but the sorrow etched across her face did not fade entirely. He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"When is the Emperor of Rus coming?" he asked quietly, though the question weighed heavily on his chest.
Nyx sniffed once, lowering her gaze as though the wooden floor beneath them suddenly beca more interesting than his eyes. "Father will make the announcent tomorrow before the court," she replied, her voice low but steady, almost rehearsed, as if she had told herself these words many tis already. "The emperor of Rus is expected to arrive in a few weeks, when the preparations for the wedding feast are complete."
Her words struck Lucas like a cold blade, and for a brief mont, he said nothing. His jaw tightened, and his mind reeled. A few weeks, only a handful of days that would vanish in the blink of an eye. He could almost see the heavy chains of duty closing in around her, tightening until there was no escape.
"A few weeks..." he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as though trying to ease the tension building there. He wanted to smile for her sake, to give her so kind of comfort, but the thought of Nyx being handed away to a stranger, taken to live in a land far from everything she knew, left him unsettled.
Lucas finally understood, completely and without question, why she had clung so desperately to every mont of laughter and simplicity earlier in the day, the pub, the darts, the street food, even the kiss. It wasn’t just fun for her. It was liberation, however brief.
And it dawned on him that once she left for Rus, even the little freedom she managed to steal here would vanish forever. Her life would no longer belong to her at all. It would belong to a foreign king, a foreign court, and an empire where she would be nothing more than a symbol of alliance.
He clenched his fist at his side, his thoughts racing. He wanted to help her. He had to find a way. But the obvious path, the one that others might consider, the idea of claiming her heart and her body before her marriage, was no solution. Getting her pregnant, binding her fate in scandal, would only bring ruin upon both of them and deepen her despair. It would not free her. It would only add shackles to the ones already being fastened.
Lucas drew in a long, steadying breath and looked at her again. The truth was plain now: she wasn’t yearning for passion or reckless escape, she was yearning for freedom. She wanted to feel alive in a way her title and duty had long denied her.
He finally understood.
That was why she had laughed so brightly earlier, why her eyes had sparkled with mischief when she tugged at his arm in the crowd, why she had asked him to kiss her with the boldness of a girl tasting rebellion for the first ti. It wasn’t recklessness. It was desperation. A cry for a life she could never have.
And Lucas, sitting there with her in the quiet of the night, realized that if he truly cared for her, he couldn’t let her drown in that despair. He had to find a way to help her, to give her sothing worth holding on to, sothing beyond the weight of duty and the crushing silence of resignation.
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