Chapter 65 :
Lucina
"Cathedral, Maverick."
I call out as I step onto the Gilcha lizard with Haroun at my side. The creature stirs beneath us. Maverick bows at my order, his compliance unwavering.
I settle into the plush cushions.
Bless Maverick for these.
He must have known how much I needed comfort after that insufferable Prince ruined my morning. Just thinking about the encounter has my blood simmering again.
I push it aside.
I look across at Haroun. Sitting stoic and composed as usual. The sharp lines of his uniform accentuate his broad shoulders and chiseled features.
I allow myself a moment to appreciate the sight.
My gaze lingers on the buttons of his coat.
Thank you, dear buttons, for holding that together so perfectly.
I glance up.
A slight flush spreads across Haroun's face. Faint pink coloring his cheeks.
The big, stoic knight—blushing.
That's a rare sight.
My earlier irritation fades, replaced by amusement.
I reach into the hidden compartment beside me and retrieve a cookie. I nibble on it as I lean back lazily.
Crumbs spill onto my chest.
I make no effort to brush them away. Instead, I look down at the mess, feigning disappointment.
"Oh dear."
Exaggerated sadness drips from my voice.
"I'm all messy now. Help me."
Haroun's eyes flicker from my face to my chest.
I see the inner battle playing out in his mind. Torn between duty and desire. His stoic mask cracks just a little.
It's amusing, really. Watching him try so hard to resist.
But eventually—as I knew he would—he gives in.
He stands. Moves beside me. Retrieves a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his uniform.
With featherlight movements, he begins to wipe the crumbs from my chest. His touch careful. Precise.
"You know."
I lean toward him, teasing lilt in my voice. Closing the gap between us.
"It'll take you forever if you're that gentle."
Haroun clears his throat.
His expression remains stoic as he carefully removes the crumbs. The poor thing takes his task far too seriously.
When he's done, he starts to rise. Clearly eager to escape.
I stifle a laugh.
He really is like a kitten. Always running away the moment things get too intense.
But I'm not about to let him get away that easily.
"Wait."
Mischief glints in my eyes.
"You missed a spot. My mouth."
His body goes still.
He turns. Confusion flickers in his eyes.
Slowly, ever so cautiously, he reaches for his handkerchief again. Bringing it toward my lips like I'm some delicate porcelain doll.
I stop him with a shake of my head.
I lean forward. Just enough. My breath fans over his skin.
"Nope." I hold his gaze. "With your mouth."
The hesitation in his eyes—that flash of uncertainty—
Gone.
Replaced by something darker. Something feral.
That look sends a thrill through me. A spark ignites between us. The tension in the air crackles like fire.
His eyes lock onto mine.
Then without another word, Haroun tosses the cloth aside.
He grabs me by the neck.
He pulls me into him with a force that steals the breath from my lungs.
His lips crash against mine.
Not gentle. Not like before.
This is bruising. Demanding.
Urgency floods through him, and my pulse races in response. I gasp into his mouth but he doesn't give me a moment to recover.
He takes advantage of that gasp.
His tongue pushes past my lips. Hot. Insistent. Tasting every inch of me.
This isn't just a kiss.
It's possession.
I melt back into the cushions.
But he's relentless.
Haroun follows me. His body presses into mine as we tumble off the seat and onto the floor in a tangled mess of limbs.
His arm wraps protectively around my head, cushioning the fall.
But it doesn't matter.
He's everywhere at once.
His lips. His hands. His heat.
I can't think.
I can't breathe.
His mouth devours mine like he's been starving for this. Like I'm the feast he's waited for his entire life.
The world outside disappears.
All I know is the way his lips move against mine. The heat radiating from his body. The delicious weight of him pinning me to the ground.
I grip his collar like it's my lifeline.
Desperate to hold on as he pulls me deeper into this overwhelming, intoxicating sensation.
I lose track of time.
Of myself.
It's all-consuming.
The way his mouth claims mine.
The way his hands grip me like he can't get enough.
I don't even know who I am anymore. Lost in the intensity of his touch.
Haroun.
His name is a prayer on my lips.
But he doesn't stop.
He can't stop.
And neither can I.
The Gilcha lizard jolts to a stop.
I manage to pull away, gasping for air. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst from my chest.
I take a moment to compose myself. Smoothing down my hair. Fixing my makeup. Trying to regain some semblance of control.
Haroun sits on the seat opposite me. Trying to look unaffected.
I see through the facade.
His face is flushed. His fists clenched. His breathing still ragged.
My eyes linger on his disheveled uniform. The crooked collar. The undone buttons.
I bite my lip to keep from smirking.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I sit up.
Pretending nothing just happened.