Rose's Chamber
Rose POV
"Is this how a bride welcomes her future husband here in Liliac, Princess...?"
That teasing voice.
I could tell this was more amusing to him than I'd thought. He was enjoying this way too much. The boyish smile on his face said it all.
All charm and mischief.
Honestly, I never imagined I'd get to see him smile like that. It was so unexpectedly soft, so beautiful, that it sent a ridiculous swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach.
Damn him.
He was supposed to be terrifying- the Dark Lord himself- and yet here he was, grinning like a boy who had just caught his favorite candy.
And me? I was just… staring. Longer than I should've. Probably creepily.
When I finally caught myself ogling him, I quickly looked down at the floor, heat rising to my cheeks. I knew he noticed. His smile grew even wider, and oh, that made it worse.
That smile, again. Gods, my face was burning.
"W-What do you mean?" I asked, timidly. Or shyly? I wasn't sure which. My voice didn't even sound like mine.
When he didn't respond immediately, I glanced up, only to meet his eyes, and instantly regretted it. That stare. That damn intense, soul-piercing stare. I nearly lost my footing.
Panicked and flustered, I straightened my back a little, cleared my throat, desperate to regain some semblance of control, and subtly nudged the conversation back to something, anything.
He finally looked away- mercifully- and gestured with a small nod toward my hand. My gaze followed, and I let out a silent groan.
Of course.
In all that rush and awkwardness, I had completely forgotten I was still holding the lamp- upside down.
If he weren't watching me with that same amused expression dancing in his eyes, I swear I would've hurled it to the floor in embarrassment just to disappear into the aftermath.
But I didn't. I couldn't.
So instead, I quietly moved toward the bedside table, on his right, trying my best to keep some distance between us. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried, he was close enough that I could smell him.
And oh, his scent…
It wasn't anything I could describe with ordinary words — deep, masculine, and oddly addictive. Something between warm cinnamon and midnight woods, with a dash of something darker. It hit me like a storm, making my head momentarily dizzy.
Lost in it, I fumbled. The lamp slipped from my grasp.
It would've crashed if not for his reflexes. He caught it smoothly, his hand steady as he placed it back upright.
"There, there... careful, Princess."
His voice was low, but oddly gentle. And then, as I reached to take it from him, our hands brushed. Just barely.
But it was enough.
A jolt shot through me like a current of lightning. It wasn't just a touch. It was a reaction. A full-body, goosebumps-inducing surge of something that felt both foreign and deeply familiar.
From his sharp intake of breath, I knew he felt it too.
We both jerked slightly, our eyes meeting again, and suddenly everything else faded. His eyes- charcoal black with hints of midnight blue near the edges. They shimmered, almost glowing under the flickering lamp light.
Mesmerizing.
Finally managing to set the lamp down, I cleared my throat again and tried to compose myself.
"I'm not a princess, King Lazarus," I said quietly. "I'm the daughter of the General of the kingdom."
A small pause. Then, his voice, softer this time, "You're always going to be a princess, Rose. My princess."
Oh.
My heart skipped several beats, maybe all of them. I didn't even know how I was still standing. The flush that crept over me was unmistakable. I was on fire.
"K-King-" I stuttered.
"No," he cut in, gaze soft but firm. "Not that. Call me by my name, Princess."
I looked up, wide-eyed. His expression was unreadable, but something in it looked like... longing?
And before I could stop myself, I whispered, "Lazarus?"
The air shifted.
Something darkened in his eyes. Something possessive and raw. He moved- swiftly, but not harshly closing the small gap between us. One hand cradled the back of my head, the other slid around my waist, tugging me gently but firmly against him.
"Say that again, Rose," he whispered, voice husky with emotion. It wasn't a plea. It was a demand- a soft, burning request that echoed in my veins.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My brain had short-circuited. His touch, his closeness- it was all too much. Too overwhelming. Too perfect.
I was trapped between desire and disbelief.
He tilted his head slightly, resting his forehead against mine, brushing his nose against mine, so tenderly it made my knees weak. His hand brushed back a loose strand of my hair and then gently cupped my cheek.
"Say my name with that sweet mouth of yours again, sweetheart."
My breath hitched. "Laz..." I whispered, barely audible, our lips almost touching.
And that was all it took.
His lips crashed onto mine.
Not violently, no. But with hunger. With desperation. Like he'd waited lifetimes for this moment. Like he'd searched worlds to find me. His kiss was soft at first, reverent, then greedy, almost aching. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer, deeper into him, as if we were two halves finally aligned.
I kissed him back.
At first shyly, unsure of what to do, but then instinct took over. My fingers slid into his hair, and he let out a low, guttural groan, vibrating against my mouth.
"Just like that, baby," he murmured against my lips between our fevered kisses.
His tongue brushed against mine, tentative, then bold. I let him in. Gods, I let him in, and it felt like everything inside me was igniting. There was no logic anymore, no world beyond this- just him, and me, and this maddening, addicting heat between us.
Until-
Knock knock knock.
We froze.
"Rose?" Selena's voice cut through the haze, sharp and suspicious. "I heard a groan. Are you alright?"
I blinked, struggling to form a sentence. I was still pressed against him, our breaths still tangled, lips swollen.
"I'm fine," I rasped, voice barely steady.
I cleared my throat, stepped back - just slightly - and raised my voice a bit stronger this time. "It was nothing, Selena. Let me sleep. Good night."
We waited in silence. Finally, we heard her footsteps retreat.
"She's gone," Lazarus said with a lopsided smile.
I turned to him and instantly wished I hadn't.
He looked... undone. In the most beautiful way.
His hair tousled and wild from my fingers. Cheeks flushed. Chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Lips red and kiss-bitten. His eyes gods, those eyes, were darker than before, with a faint red glow flickering near the edges, as if something inside him had awakened.
And me? I was probably no better. I could still feel the warmth of his lips. My skin tingled where he touched me. My heart hadn't slowed since the moment he held me.
But I didn't look away. Not this time.
Instead, I reached out, leaned in, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
It wasn't bold. It wasn't dramatic.
It was simple. A silent confession.
A way to tell him I wasn't afraid. That I didn't care about the rumors. That I chose to see him. Not the title, not the power, not the past, just him.
And in his arms, I felt... safe.
Not like a prisoner. Not like a pawn. Not like someone caught in fate's cruel game.
I felt like I belonged.
And in that moment, I knew something had changed, in me, in him, in us.
He was the infamous Dark Lord, feared, hated, misunderstood.
And I? I was just a general's daughter.
But here, in this quiet chamber, wrapped in his arms, I felt like his.
And maybe, just maybe... he was becoming mine too.