Page 27 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

Her eyes opened fully at that, dark and intense. "Me too," she confessed. "Even with everything else... I've missed this. Missed you."

Something tightened in my chest at her words – not jealousy but a profound tenderness. She'd just told me about Jalend, about Tarshi, and yet here she was, looking at me as if I were the only man in the world. It was humbling, this gift of her honesty, her trust.

I pulled her down to kiss me, and she moaned at the change in angle of my cock inside her.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, a raw communication that went beyond words.

Her hips began to move, a frantic rhythm against mine, and I met her thrust for thrust. The world narrowed to this small, sun-drenched room, to the feel of her skin slick with sweat against mine, the sound of her ragged gasps mingling with my own.

All thought of her other lovers, of the impossible mission she’d set for herself, burned away in the heat between us.

There was only this moment, this fierce and perfect connection.

With a groan, I rolled us over, pinning her beneath me without breaking our connection.

"Livia," I breathed, my hips driving into her, faster now, abandoning all pretence of control. "Look at me."

Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with pleasure, met mine.

She was so close to breaking again, I could feel it in the way her inner muscles tightened around me, in the shudder that ran through her body with every thrust. The sight of her, so completely undone and yet so strong, undid me completely.

I drove into her then, a frantic, primal rhythm that was less about pleasure and more about possession.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, her hips meeting my every thrust with an urgency that matched my own. She cried out my name, the sound a ragged, beautiful thing in the quiet room.

“I love you,” I ground out, the words torn from me as I felt my own release begin to build. “Gods, Livia, I love you.”

Her release came with a sharp, choked cry as her body convulsed around me, pulling my own climax from me in a devastating rush. I roared her name, my body arching as I spilled myself into her, emptying every last bit of the tension and longing I'd carried for weeks.

For a long moment, the world fell away, leaving only the sound of our ragged breaths mingling in the sun-drenched room.

I collapsed against her, burying my face in the curve of her neck, my heart hammering against her own.

Her arms came around me, holding me tight.

Here, in her arms, I was not a rebel or a fugitive.

I was just a man, finally home. This, I thought. This is the only truth left.

I lay there for a long time, my weight supported by her, listening as our heartbeats slowed to a steady, synchronized rhythm.

The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the room, turning her skin to amber and gold.

Her fingers traced slow, lazy circles on my back, a soothing, absentminded touch that spoke of deep familiarity.

I could have stayed like that forever, lost in the quiet aftermath.

It was a lie, of course. Forever was not a word that belonged in our world.

With a reluctant sigh, I rolled off her, pulling her with me so we lay side-by-side, her head resting on my shoulder.

I drew the thin linen sheet up over our bodies as the air began to cool.

Her leg was thrown over mine, her hand resting flat over my heart, as if she could feel its steady, devoted rhythm.

We lay in comfortable silence, listening to the distant sounds of the city winding down for the evening.

The moment was perfect, and because it was perfect, I knew it couldn't last. But I would hold onto it, burn it into my memory, a shield against the darkness to come.

As the afterglow faded, my thoughts returned to everything she'd told me at the tavern.

Jalend Northreach. A nobleman at the Academy, interested in her.

And Tarshi – loyal, fierce Tarshi, who'd been her lover since before they'd escaped the ludus.

I'd always sensed the connection between them, but I'd never suspected how deep it ran.

Strangely, I felt no jealousy. Perhaps because I'd never believed I could have all of her – Livia was too vast a soul to be contained by one man's love. Or perhaps because I understood better than most the complexity of the heart, how it could expand to hold seemingly contradictory truths.

What I did feel was fear. Fear for her, infiltrating the Academy, getting entangled with a nobleman, planning to assassinate the Emperor himself. And now with her involvement in the resistance...

"You're thinking too hard," she murmured against my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the hair there.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to me." She propped herself up on one elbow to look at me, her expression serious. "Are you truly alright with what I told you? About Jalend? About Tarshi?"

I considered my answer carefully. "I won't pretend it wasn't a surprise. Especially about Tarshi." I traced the curve of her cheek with my fingertips. "But who am I to dictate your heart, Livia? I'm just grateful to have any part of it."

"You have more than a part," she said fiercely. "You saved me, Marcus. When I thought there was nothing left for me but vengeance, you showed me I could still feel. Still love."

Her words hit me with unexpected force, making my throat tight. "I could say the same about you."

She settled back against my chest, her hand coming to rest over my heart. "Are you worried about me?"

"Constantly," I admitted with a short laugh. "You've infiltrated the Dragon Elite Academy, you're planning to assassinate the Emperor, and now you've caught the eye of a nobleman. Worry seems like an appropriate response."

She smiled against my skin. "When you put it like that, it does sound rather reckless."

"Reckless is your natural state of being," I teased, running my hand down the smooth curve of her back. Then, more seriously: "I used to fantasize about taking you away from all this. Finding some quiet corner of the world where the Empire couldn't reach us."

"And now?" she asked softly.

"Now I know you'd never forgive me if I tried." I sighed, tightening my arm around her. "You're a warrior, Livia. Fighting for what you believe in is as essential to you as breathing. It's one of the things I love most about you, even when it terrifies me."

She was quiet for a moment, her fingertips drawing circles on my chest. "Hearing you say that means more than I can express," she finally said. "Too many people have tried to change me, to make me smaller, safer."

"Never." I pressed another kiss to her hair. "Though I reserve the right to worry about you."

"Fair enough." She tilted her head up to look at me. "What about you? Getting involved with the resistance is dangerous too."

I hadn't expected her concern to be directed at me. "It's different," I argued. "I'm not infiltrating the Imperial Palace or sleeping with nobles."

Her expression turned serious. "It's still dangerous, Marcus. If they catch you..."

"They won't," I assured her, though we both knew it was an empty promise. No one was truly safe in this fight. "Besides, now that I know about you and Tarshi, my involvement with the resistance makes even more sense."

"How so?"

I chose my words carefully. "If there's any hope for a future where you and Tarshi could be together openly, where none of us have to hide or pretend, things need to change.

Fundamentally change." I stroked her hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers.

"The resistance isn't just fighting against the Emperor's tyranny; they're fighting for a different kind of world.

One where a person's worth isn't determined by their blood or birth. "

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "A world where Tarshi and I could walk in the daylight together. Where you and I wouldn't have to hide."

"Exactly." I cupped her face gently. "So you see, my involvement isn't just about bringing down the Empire. It's about helping to build something better in its place. Something worth fighting for."

She leaned in to kiss me, a soft, sweet press of lips that conveyed more than words could have. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.

"You deserve everything," I corrected her. "All the love, all the freedom, all the joy this world has to offer. And if I can help you find even a fraction of that, it will have been worth it."

She settled back against my chest, her arm tightening around my waist. I held her close, listening to her breathing gradually slow as she drifted toward sleep.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, painting the small room in hues of gold and amber.

Soon we would have to rise, to dress, to return her to the Academy before her absence was noted.

Soon we would step back into our separate lives – me as a labourer in the city, her as a noble student training to be a dragon rider.

But for now, for this brief stolen moment, we were just Marcus and Livia. Two people who had lost everything and somehow found each other in the wreckage. Two people bound by love, by shared pain, by a vision of a world that might someday be better than the one we'd been given.

And despite everything – the danger, the uncertainty, the complexity of her heart that encompassed not just me but others as well – I found myself profoundly grateful for this moment, for this woman in my arms.

Whatever came next, we would face it together. Not just the two of us, but all of us who loved her. And somehow, that seemed like enough.