Marcus's expression softened as he looked at me, though his jaw remained tense, as if he were fighting a battle within himself, uncertain of what to say or how to bridge the distance that had grown between us.
One careful step after another until I walked over to him, stopping only an arm's length away.
He turned to face me fully, still clad in his bloodstained armor. The shallow cut along his jaw caught the warm glow of the oil lamps, and only then did I notice how exhausted he looked.
"You should change," I began, unable to hide the uncertainty in my voice. "Have someone look at that wound. It could become infected—"
"Elena."
The sound of my name silenced me.
I hadn't realized I was fidgeting my fingers until he reached out and gently enclosed my hands within his own.
"There is a reason I waited before coming to you," he said quietly, his dark eyes never leaving mine. "I hope you know that."
"I do," I murmured, nodding though the motion felt absent-minded.
"This is your world, after all," I added, managing a faint smile that never quite reached my eyes. "Despite the bloodshed that had happened, it could be worse if you had taken me that night."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
His thumbs brushed lightly over my knuckles, and somehow that simple gesture undid me more than any embrace could have.
"I should have taken you that night regardless," he said, releasing one of my hands to cup my cheek. "You must have endured much beneath his hands."
I lowered my gaze and shook my head.
"No," I murmured. "Besides that night...fortunately, I did not."
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant sounds of the camp outside. The crackling of fires, the murmur of soldiers and the occasional whinny of a horse.
I took a slow breath. "Marcus?"
He looked at me immediately.
"What you said in the forest..." My voice faltered, and I hated myself for it. "Did you mean it?"
His brow furrowed.
"When you told Gen that if I carried his child..." I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "That you would claim it as your own."
The words hung heavily between us.
"I need to know whether you spoke only to provoke him...or you truly meant it."
For the first time since we had been reunited, uncertainty crept into his expression.
My fingers tightened around his.
"I have counted every day," I confessed quietly. "Waiting. Hoping. Fearing."
I looked away before continuing. "I do not even know if there is a child. But if there is..."
The question lodged painfully in my throat.
"Will you still have me? Could you—"
Marcus closed his eyes for the briefest moment.
When he opened them again, there was no anger in then, only honesty.
"It would be difficult. I would be lying if I told you otherwise," he admitted, his thumb brushing slowly across my knuckles. "Every time I look at that child, I will remember the circumstances that brought it into this world. I will remember what was taken from you."
His jaw tightened.
"And I would hate him for that, but not for long." He gathered me closer until there was scarcely any space left between us. "Because the child would be yours."
His hand found my cheek once more, warm and steady.
"I meant every word I spoke in that forest, Elena. If there is a child, I will raise them as my own. I will give them my name, my protection and whatever love I can muster, because none of this would be their fault."
Before he could say another word, I reached up and cupped his face.
Then I kissed him.
It was not hurried, nor desperate, but filled with everything I had been too afraid to voice. The fear that had clung to me in the forest. The uncertainty that had followed me into the camp. The quiet hope that perhaps, despite everything, he still chose to be with me.
He kissed me back.
His hands found my waist with familiar care, drawing me closer until the space between us disappeared. The tension that had settled over us since our reunion slowly unraveled with each passing moment, his forehead resting briefly against mine before his lips found mine again.
"I thought..." I whispered against his lips, "when you would not look at me...that you meant to cast me aside."
His dark eyes opened at once. "What?"
"When you arrived," I murmured, my voice barely audible, "you spoke to everyone but me. You barely looked at me. I thought perhaps, things had changed."
His thumb brushed gently beneath my eye.
"Oh, Elena," he breathed. "I needed time."
"Time?"
"To think," he admitted. "To stand before you without letting my anger choose my words. Not lashing out in anger at you."
His jaw tightened.
"At him, at what he had done to you. At myself, for not claiming you sooner."
"So you do not regret me?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"Never."
The word settled something deep within me.
So I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his jaw before crashing back onto his lips again.
A silent plea to have him again, to lose myself in him, let his touch drown out every terrible memory until there was nothing left but us.
Still holding my waist, he guided me backwards until my hips met the edge of the map-strewn table. Wooden figurines toppled beneath, scattering across the floor along with the parchment that only moments ago dictated the fate of his armies.
I gasped, barely catching my breath before he captured my face, kissing me deeper.
His hands sliding down the strap of my dress, slipping the top off easily as I wrapped my legs around his waist, open and wanting.
There was nothing left but the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing against mine.My fingers found his chest, tracing the crest engraved in the cold metal with a helpless laugh.
"Marcus," I whispered, his lips tracing fire down my neck, "I'm not sure how to take off Roman armor."
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Then allow your husband this act of service."
He caught my hand and placed it over the fastening at his shoulder, guiding my fingers with patient care, turning a moment that might have been awkward into something unexpectedly tender.
"I have dreamed of this moment many times," he whispered, his eyes darkening as they roamed over my bare skin. My breast, exposed beneath him, flushed and alive. My nipples hardened, whether from his gaze or chill in the air, I couldn't tell.
His hand cupped my cheek before sliding down my breast, fingers twisting my nipple with a slow, deliberate touch.
I gasped.
"Dressed like this," he murmured, his lips closing over one, his mouth worshipping me.
My hands tangled in the soft strands of his hair, clutching him like I'm never letting him go.
God, how I miss him.
"Like Venus herself fell from the heavens and offered you to me," he breathed against my skin.
"You're not so bad yourself," I whispered back, my voice rough as he took another nipple into his mouth. Licking, lapping...
While his fingers teased my wetness, coaxing every nerve alive while I ground my hips into him, desperate to feel him deep inside me.
Thankfully he wasted no time.
His lips crashed back onto mine, fierce and hungry.
His hands molded my breasts, mixing my wetness with his saliva, slick heat spreading across my skin. Then, with a powerful thrust, he finally plunged into me.
A guttural grunt escaped him as I gasped, my walls stretching to consume him, tightening with every deliberate move.
He pulled out slowly, then slammed back inside.
Harder, deeper, each movement demanding, possessive.
Again and again...
Until the wooden table began rattling with the force of his thrusts, that I had no choice but to grip its edges, nails digging into the wood as my vision blurred, swimming with pleasure and need. My breath hitched, every nerve screaming, every inch of me alive with the storm he was unleashing.
His eyes locked onto mine, dark and stormy as he drove into me again and again, relentless and consuming. Until I teetered on the edge, my eyes fluttering closed, his hand rose gently to my jaw, encouraging me to meet his gaze once more.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice low as he moved.
I opened my eyes to meet his burning gaze, raw and unyielding.
There was no battlefield between us now, no forest, no fear, no lord who sought to claim me.
Only Marcus, thrusting in and out of me.
Claiming me.
"You are coming because I brought you here," he whispered, his grip tightening just enough to leave no doubt. "Because I knew exactly how to fuck you like no one can. And no one else ever will."
"No one ever will," I repeated, my words coming in gasps as the world dissolved into the pounding rhythm of our bodies, and I surrendered to him completely.