Mirha smiled softly. "I arrived while you were in a meeting."
Arvin understood immediately. If he had known she was coming, he would never have attended it. The realization softened his expression, and a faint, knowing smile curved his lips.
"Welcome back," he said.
He lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles—unhurried, reverent—before leading her to the table.
Dinner passed in quiet comfort. They spoke little at first, content simply being in the same space again. The clink of cutlery, the low hum of the palace settling for the night—it all felt unreal, as though the weeks apart had been a dream.
Afterward, Arvin rose. "Come," he said, extending his hand. "Sit with me in the study."
Mirha followed.
The study was warmer than she remembered, lit softly by lanterns. They laughed there—real laughter—Mirha recounting stories of Magili, of lake days, loud nights with Gina and Goya, of moments that had eased her heart.
And then, without thinking, the words slipped out.
"And coincidentally," she said lightly, "I see you again after just dreaming about you last night."
The air shifted.
Arvin stopped moving.
"Really?" he asked.
Mirha's breath stilled. She pressed her lips together, suddenly aware of how much she had revealed.
Arvin set his cup aside and stood. Slowly, deliberately, he crossed the room toward her.
Mirha rose instinctively as well, her pulse quickening.
He closed the distance until there was barely space for breath between them. His voice was low, calm—but charged.
"Talk to me."
Mirha swallowed. "Yes."
His gaze never left her face.
"What was it about?"
The silence between them stretched—heavy, expectant—waiting for her answer.
Mirha lowered her gaze, choosing her words carefully, as though steering herself away from dangerous ground.
"It was nothing," she said softly. "Just… us. I think it was only because I missed your presence."
Arvin studied her, intrigue flickering in his eyes. The coincidence lingered between them—how restless he had been the night before, how her name had followed him even into sleep. And now this. The thought made him smile, slow and thoughtful.
"If you wanted to see me," he said gently, "you could have simply come to me. I am always free for you."
Mirha looked up then, her expression earnest, almost vulnerable.
"I understand," she replied, "but I am always waiting for you to summon me. I fear that if I come to you unsummoned, I would be disturbing you."
Arvin's smile softened, touched with something deeper.
"An emperor does not do much," he said quietly. "So I am always free for you."
The words settled between them.
Neither spoke after that.
The silence was not empty—it was heavy with things left unsaid, with longing held carefully in place, with the knowledge that both of them had been awake thinking of the other the same night, separated only by distance and restraint.
They remained there, close enough to feel one another's breath, letting the quiet speak for them.
Arvin's restraint shattered first. His hand cupped the back of Mirha's neck, pulling her in as his lips crashed against hers—soft at the start, a tentative brush that ignited the fire he'd banked for three agonising weeks. No touches, no kisses, just the gnawing ache of wanting her every waking hour, her body haunting his dreams with the memory of how she'd arched under him, her pussy clenching tight around his cock. Now, he devoured her mouth, tongue thrusting deep, tasting the sweetness of her surrender as she gasped into him.
Mirha matched his hunger, her fingers digging into his shoulders, but Arvin's need burned hotter, fiercer. He pressed her back against the chamber wall, his body pinning hers, the hard length of his cock straining against his trousers, throbbing with the urge to bury himself inside her slick heat right there. His free hand roamed up her side, cupping one full breast through the thin silk of her gown, thumb circling her nipple until it peaked stiff and begging under the fabric. He kneaded the soft flesh, squeezing harder as she moaned into his kiss, her body writhing against him, hips grinding instinctively toward the bulge that promised to split her open.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her tongue battling his in a wet, desperate tangle. The air grew thick, suffocating with the scent of their arousal—his musky want, her dampening core aching for him to rip away the barriers and fuck her raw, pounding until she screamed his name. Arvin growled low in his throat, breaking the kiss only to nip at her jaw, her throat, sucking hard enough to mark her pale skin, his cock twitching at the thought of claiming every inch of her before the world saw her.
But he forced himself to stop, chest heaving, breath ragged against her swollen lips. Three more kisses he stole—quick, bruising presses that left her lips red and glistening—then a fourth, slower, lingering as if he could pour all his pent-up lust into it. 'Not now,' he rasped, voice thick with the effort of holding back, his hand still gripping her breast possessively. 'The banquet's after tomorrow. Any marks I leave... they won't fade in time. Every noble in Èvana will see you, and I won't have them thinking you're some conquered prize on display. Not yet.'
They panted in unison, foreheads touching, her eyes dark with the same feral need that clawed at him. He wanted her more—gods, he burned for it, his balls tight and heavy, cock leaking pre-cum at the mere press of her thigh against him. But he stepped back, releasing her with trembling hands. 'Go to your chambers, Mirha. Before I lose what's left of my control and fuck you until you can't walk straight.'
She nodded, cheeks flushed, lips parted as she drew in shaky breaths. With a deep bow, she turned and slipped away, leaving him alone with the throbbing ache of denial.
Mirha hurried through the shadowed corridors of the palace, her silk gown whispering against her thighs with every hurried step. Her chest heaved, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps that did little to cool the fire Arvin had ignited in her core. Her lips still tingled from his aggressive kisses, swollen and sensitive, and she could taste him on her tongue—the faint salt of his skin mixed with the urgency of his hunger. Between her legs, her pussy throbbed, slick and aching from the press of his hard cock against her, the way he'd ground into her like he was seconds from ripping her clothes off and slamming inside her until she shattered.
She trembled as she pushed open the door to her chambers, the cool night air doing nothing to quench the heat flushing her skin. Her mind raced with flashes of his hands on her breasts, kneading roughly through the fabric, his thumb flicking her nipple until it hardened into a tight peak. Gods, she wanted more—wanted him to tear the gown away, suck on her tits until she cried out, then flip her over and fuck her from behind, his hips slapping against her ass with brutal force. But he had stopped, and now the denial left her body humming with unspent need, every nerve ending alive with the ghost of his touch.
Without pausing, she stripped off her gown, letting it pool at her feet in a silken heap. Naked, she crossed to the bathroom, the marble floor cold under her bare soles, a stark contrast to the warmth pooling in her belly. The bathing pool steamed gently, fed by hidden hot springs, its surface rippling invitingly. She slipped into the water with a soft sigh, but even the soothing heat couldn't erase the phantom pressure of Arvin's body pinning hers to the wall. As she sank deeper, her hands moved of their own accord, tracing the paths his fingers had taken—over her collarbone, down to cup her heavy breasts, pinching her nipples until she bit her lip to stifle a whimper.
The water lapped at her skin, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the way his cock had strained against her thigh, thick and insistent, promising to stretch her wide and fill her completely. She imagined him there now, in the pool with her, his strong arms lifting her onto the edge, spreading her legs to lap at her dripping folds with his tongue before thrusting deep, making her walls clench around him in desperate release. Her fingers dipped lower, brushing her clit, swollen and sensitive, but she pulled back with a frustrated groan. No, she wouldn't touch herself—not when it was him she craved, his rough hands, his commanding growls.
She bathed quickly, scrubbing her skin as if she could wash away the longing, but it clung to her like a second skin. Emerging from the pool, water sluicing down her curves, she toweled dry with trembling hands. Her body still quivered lightly, muscles taut with unresolved tension, her pussy clenching emptily at the memory of his kisses turning feral. Wrapping herself in a thin nightshift, she crawled into bed, the sheets cool against her heated flesh. Lying there in the dark, she pressed her thighs together, seeking friction, but it only heightened the ache. Sleep came fitfully, haunted by dreams of Arvin's mouth on her neck, his cock buried to the hilt, pounding relentlessly until she came screaming.
Meanwhile, in his own chambers, Arvin paced like a caged beast, his cock still rock-hard and leaking, tenting his trousers painfully. He stripped them off with a curse, his erection springing free, thick veins pulsing along its length, the tip glistening with pre-cum from the tease of her body against his. Three weeks—three fucking weeks without sinking into her tight heat, without feeling her nails rake his back as he drove into her over and over. He wanted her more than breath, more than the throne, his balls drawn tight with the need to claim her, to fuck her until she was marked inside and out as his.
He splashed water on his face from a basin, but it did nothing to douse the fire. Collapsing onto his bed, he gripped his shaft, stroking once, twice, imagining it was her pussy milking him instead—wet, hot, gripping him like a vice as he rutted deep. But he stopped, jaw clenched, denying himself even that release. 'One more night,' he growled to the empty room, the words a mantra against the storm raging in his blood. After tomorrow's banquet loomed, a barrier of propriety and prying eyes, but after... after, he'd have her, bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her senseless, her moans echoing off the walls as he filled her with his cum. For now, he lay there, staring at the canopy, every inch of him coiled with hunger, counting the hours until he could unleash it all on her willing body.