"Our anxiety and impatience do not heal by themselves but with the touch of the one who steadies your soul."
Marcus POV
The aftermath of our hurried connection was not relief; it was aching. A steady, consuming ache that settled beneath my ribs and spread outward, deeper than muscle, sharper than fatigue. It was not just desire that lingered; it was a need older than the war itself. Something sacred, something that felt dangerously close to peace.
I stood alone at the villa's edge, armor unfastened, the mountain air biting at the exposed skin of my throat. The wards flickered faintly against the night, blue-white light tracing the perimeter like the heartbeat of a fortress half-asleep. Beyond the pines, the Northern Kingdom was a rumor, the world quieted to a pulse and a breath.
