Page 35 of Severe Husband Warning

Before long, the careful rhythm unravels, and we lose ourselves in the pleasure we’ve awakened together.

With one sharp pinch on her clit, Calla falls apart around my cock. The spasms squeeze me harder than ever, and after a few more thrusts, her name tears from my lips with a roar. I bury myself fully inside her as release overtakes me pushing deeper into her, marking her insides with my cum.

When the last waves of pleasure subside, we remain tangled together, our breathing softening into the quiet that follows.

Calla’s eyes drift closed, and when I glance down, sleep has already claimed her.

A quiet laugh escapes me. I rest my forehead against the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

“You choose an interesting moment to surrender,” I sigh, though she is already beyond hearing it.

Careful not to wake her, I gently pick up the pitcher beside the bed and coax her into taking a few sleepy sips of water. She obeys without opening her eyes, mumbling something unintelligible before curling instinctively against my chest once more.

I pull the blankets higher around her shoulders and brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. The gesture comes so naturally that I scarcely think about it until my hand lingers there.

She entrusted herself to me tonight with a certainty I have done nothing to earn. This marriage began as strategy. Somewhere between the vows we exchanged and the music she carried into my House, it became something else entirely.

I draw her closer beneath the blankets, listening as rain whispers against the windows. For once, I allow tomorrow to wait.

17

CALLA

The unfamiliar quiet wakes me before the light does.

I lie still beneath the dark silk sheets, listening for the familiar growl of the storm that has become the backdrop of life inside Stromgarde Spire. Instead, only a distant murmur reaches the windows, as though the clouds have chosen, if only for a little while, to loosen their grip on the sky.

It feels strangely intimate.

The sheets still hold his warmth. Ozone lingers in the fabric, mingling with the clean scent that always seems to follow him, and before I can stop myself, I breathe it in a little deeper.

Heat creeps into my cheeks.

Memories of last night return gradually, unfolding with the softness of waking rather than the sharpness of a dream. I remember the patient way Rothgar loosened every fastening of my gown himself, never taking the easier path magic would have offered him. His touch stayed only long enough to free each clasp, but there had been an unmistakable tenderness in the care he took, as though every moment mattered.

The memory settles warmly inside my chest, and I catch myself smiling.

Our marriage began as a bargain, every smile and fleeting touch offered for the benefit of suspicious eyes. Somewhere along the way, the pretending became harder than the truth.

A soft laugh escapes before I can swallow it.

When I finally sit up, I find the room empty, though the disappointment barely has time to bloom before reason answers it. Rothgar has never struck me as someone capable of lingering in bed while duty waits elsewhere. Whatever peace we found together last night, dawn would never have changed the obligations resting on his shoulders.

My gaze wanders toward the bedside table, where a small silver-leafed plant catches the pale morning light. It wasn’t there when we fell asleep, and its delicate metallic leaves shimmer whenever distant lightning flashes beyond the windows.

The first silver-leafed plant he placed in my chambers had felt like another reminder that nothing inside the spire truly belonged to me. It had been beautiful enough to admire, yet rooted exactly where someone else had decided it should remain, no different from the carefully ordered life waiting for me beyond those doors.

This one carries an altogether different meaning.

Rothgar knew he would leave before I woke. Instead of allowing me to wake to an empty room, he had left behind a small piece of his gardens to keep me company until he returned.

The thought is so unexpectedly sweet that my chest aches.

My fingers brush lightly across one cool silver leaf.

“Thank you,” I whisper before quietly crossing back into my own room.

I bathe away the traces of sleep, then change into my old clothes. The familiar space greets me exactly as I left it yesterday, though it no longer feels quite so solitary with his chambers waiting just beyond the open door.