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After the night I spent with Jasmine, I returned back to my clan, playing the role of the obedient, dutiful heir that I am expected to portray.
I tried pushing away the thoughts of her body writhing under me, the way her bright blue eyes held mine as she accepted every term I lay before her.
It is as if something inside me has snapped. Jasmine has awakened feelings within me that I thought I was far past incapable of conjuring.
"It never happened," I say to myself, repeating the ineffective mantra I've started to try and shake the hold she already has on me. But not even delusion can bury the feelings Jasmine awakened in me.
I enter my Father's meeting room, preparing to live out the last of my days of singlehood. I know exactly where I'll be heading tonight, hoping to soothe the effects of this incessant nightmare my father is determined to subject me to.
"Karul," he says, looking up from his desk where he is sitting, looking over a stack of papers.
"Father," I reply curtly, folding my hands behind my back like the respectful son he believes he's raised me to be.
"Two more days, and you'll be bound in matrimony," my father's voice is as cold as the steel of his blade. A cruel smirk plays on his lips. "Tonight, I'll allow you to relish your last taste of freedom. I hope you use this opportunity well."
I nod, the perfect son, ever obedient and dutiful. My mind, however, rebels against the shackles of tradition and expectation. The condescending and disapproving tone of his voice irks me, taking every bit of resolve I possess not to let the emotion display, keeping my expression painfully neutral.
The outburst and refusal to do his bidding sits wedged in my throat but I swallow it down in favor of getting out of here unreprimanded. As soon as I step outside the imprisoning confines of my father's presence, the memories flood back—the night we spent together. I pause to take a breath, shaken by the woman I purchased without a second thought past, saving me from my fate.
"Jasmine," I whisper. Her name on my lips makes me long to relive the night we shared.
Her eyes, fierce yet vulnerable, haunt me. Her touch is gentle, soothing to the scars I carry within. The way she looked at me, not as the dark elf heir, but as just... me. I felt alive, unburdened for those fleeting hours. It was as though a part of me that had been deadened by years of suffering under my father's tyranny had suddenly awakened.
"Is something troubling you?" A voice from the shadows pulls me back to the present. My Father peers in the doorway as I walk toward the gaudy front entrance.
"Nothing but pre-wedding jitters," I lie smoothly, striding ahead, heading out into the night.
"Remember who you are," the voice warns, but I'm already too far gone, lost in the labyrinth of my own emotions.
Frustration coils within me, a serpent ready to strike. Can I truly shut away what happened between us and proceed with this wedding of convenience, convenience to further my father's empire, a complete inconvenience to the son he tries so desperately to control?
I never thought of being married, but the pull my heart feels to return to Jasmine makes my thoughts wander down a road I'm not sure I can go down.
Desperation lingers like a shadow at my heels, whispering of paths not taken, of desires unfulfilled. With every task completed, every item crossed off. The restlessness grows, a tide too powerful to hold back.
The air is laced with the scent of pine and the whisper of secrets as I push open the door to my clandestine refuge. Moonlight spills across the marble floors, casting eerie shadows that dance with my own. My heart hammers against my rib cage, a relentless drumbeat urging me forward.
"Jasmine?" I call into the silent halls, my voice seeming foreign in the stillness. Each room echoes back emptiness, mocking my rising panic. Could she have fled? The very thought has my nerves on ice. The panic within me rises to the surface.
I stride through the mansion, my boots clicking sharply, a staccato rhythm to the turmoil brewing within. Through the grand windows, I catch a glimpse of silver on water. The lake. My pace quickens until I burst through the garden doors and find myself at its edge.
There, beneath the tender glow of a crescent moon, she bathes, her skin alight with an ethereal radiance. The water ripples with her movements, a liquid symphony accompanying the sight that steals my breath. Jasmine. Her name is a prayer on my lips, a curse in my blood.
I stand in the shadows, just watching her body move gracefully through the water, and she floats on her back. Her brown hair trails behind her fanned among the ripples. My eyes are drawn to the full roundness of her breasts. Her nipples sit peaked in perfection, brushing the surface of the water.
"Damn it," I hiss under my breath, unable to tear my gaze from the contours of her body. I had convinced myself these primal urges were extinguished, repressed for so long that they simply ceased to exist.
How wrong I was. That night... our night... it haunts me, a relentless specter clawing at my resolve. I can't tear my eyes away from the way the moonlight covers her skin aglow with the shimmers of water and moonlight.
The memories flash—her gasps, the heat of our touch, the taste of her kiss. They wash over me like waves, leaving me drenched in longing and disbelief. What have I done? What am I doing?
"Focus," I scold myself, but it's useless. I'm lost in the tide of her beauty, spellbound by the magic that is uniquely hers.
A twig snaps beneath my boot, a sound so trivial yet deafening in the quietude. I freeze, my heart thundering as if that minor betrayal could shatter the fragile peace between us. The surface of the water sends ripples dancing across her skin as she recoils at the sound, her eyes wide and alert. She's swathed only in moonlight, and my heart is a drumbeat too loud in the silence of the night.
But then, she turns, her eyes narrow, searching the darkness where I stand, a specter of desire and regret.
"Who's there?" Her voice trembles, betraying vulnerability that slices through me sharper than any blade ever could. Her hands attempt and fail to cover the womanly curves of her body, her delicate arms are no match for the enticing contours I still can't pull my gaze from.
