"Yes," Valentina replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
She stepped out of the washroom, the faint scent of rose water following her like a gentle breeze.
A single silk robe clung to her body, thin and fragile, offering little to the imagination.
Each step she took made the fabric sway lightly against her skin, brushing over her curves in a way that made her heart flutter with nervous tension.
She hated this feeling—this uncertainty, this shyness that had no place in a woman like her.
Once, she had been a wife, confident and loved, cherished by a man who had been her entire world.
But that man was long gone, and for years she had convinced herself that her heart would never belong to another.
She had made peace with loneliness… or at least she thought she had, until fate brought Dorian into her life.
Now, as she stood in their wedding chamber, she felt that same old ache again—fear, longing, and something deeper she dared not name.
Her gaze fell upon Dorian.
He sat at the edge of the bed, still in his crimson wedding robes that shimmered faintly under the lantern's glow.
His dark hair cascaded over his shoulders, his sharp eyes reflecting quiet strength and calm.
He looked every bit the noble cultivator—handsome, dignified, and distant.
The kind of man who could move mountains with a word, yet might never whisper words of love.
She had agreed to this marriage out of reason, not affection.
And yet, standing before him now, her heart felt far from calm.
Valentina drew a slow breath, her hands trembling slightly as she untied the sash around her waist.
The silk robe loosened, slipping down her shoulders in a whisper of sound before pooling gracefully at her feet.
The air touched her bare skin, cool and electric, as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
For the second time in her life, she stood naked before a man.
Her beauty was breathtaking—her tall, elegant frame, her smooth, creamy skin, the gentle curve of her hips, and the fullness of her breasts that rose and fell with each nervous breath.
Her pink nipples tightened under the chill, her long legs gleaming faintly in the soft light.
She was the image of sensual perfection, a goddess sculpted in mortal flesh.
But inside, she was trembling.
She felt vulnerable, exposed—not just in body, but in soul.
This was not the reunion of lovers but the uncertain beginning of something she could not yet define.
Dorian finally rose to his feet. His gaze swept over her slowly, not in lust, but in silent appreciation.
His composure remained, yet there was a faint flicker in his eyes—a restrained fire.
Valentina's lips parted slightly, her breath catching when he reached out a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek.
His touch was firm but gentle, grounding her.
"Hmm…" she murmured softly as he leaned in.
Their lips met for the first time—hesitant at first, then deeper, more assured.
His warmth surrounded her, his masculine scent filling her lungs—earthy, powerful, intoxicating.
Her heart raced wildly, her hands instinctively clutching his robes as he deepened the kiss.
It wasn't passion born of desire, but the slow awakening of something fragile and uncertain—an ember flickering to life after years of darkness.
"Mmmph…" Valentina's breath hitched, her eyes opening wide in surprise a few breaths after their kiss.
Dorian's lips were still on hers, and the world seemed to melt away.
Every thought, every restraint she had built around her heart unraveled beneath his touch.
His kiss was slow at first, almost curious, but there was power in it—an unspoken confidence that made her knees weaken.
It wasn't just a kiss; it was a claim, quiet and deliberate.
Her body responded before her mind could form a single word.
Her pulse quickened, her breath came shallow, and her fingers instinctively tightened around the fabric of his robes.
He tasted like something she couldn't name—warm, steady, and impossibly comforting.
The faint brush of his breath against her cheek sent a tingle down her spine, and her heart thudded so loud she was certain he could hear it.
Dorian drew back slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet hers.
His eyes, deep and dark as a storm-lit sky, studied her every expression.
He could see the conflict there—hesitation, longing, and the faint trace of fear.
And still, beneath it all, there was a spark of something raw and alive.
He smiled faintly, one corner of his mouth lifting as if in quiet amusement. He was in no hurry.
He didn't need to be.
Though he lacked personal experience, he had lived long enough to understand the rhythm of emotion, the silent language of closeness.
He had seen how the greatest mortal lovers lured countless women into pleasure.
He knew when to move forward and when to simply let the moment breathe.
Valentina tried to steady her voice, but it came out as a whisper. "Dorian…"
Her name on his lips would have undone her completely, so he said nothing—just leaned in again, brushing her lips with his in a kiss so light it sent tremors through her chest.
The air between them thickened, heavy with the scent of burning candles and the warmth of two people standing on the edge of something inevitable.
The next kiss was deeper. Slower. A perfect blend of restraint and hunger.
Valentina felt herself melting again, her thoughts scattering like petals in the wind.
The years of loneliness, of silence and mourning, seemed to crumble all at once.
For the first time in so long, she wasn't thinking—she was simply feeling.
Her hands moved of their own accord, tracing the faint lines of his jaw, the texture of his robes, the strength beneath.
Each movement drew her closer until she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest.
Dorian's hand rose to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheekbone.
His touch was steady, grounding, as if assuring her that she was safe in this new beginning.
When they finally fell back onto the bed, the motion was unhurried, natural—as though the world itself had guided them there.
Their lips parted only for breath, their foreheads resting together in quiet surrender.
Valentina closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settle around her.
It wasn't passion that frightened her—it was how real it all felt.
How, after so many years of solitude, she could feel something stirring inside her again.
Dorian looked down at her, his expression unreadable yet tender.
The faint flicker of candlelight danced across his features, painting his face in gold.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to.
The silence between them was rich enough—filled with unspoken promises and emotions that words could never capture.