The Fire That Never Dies

Adrian..

Passion burns brightest in the dark.

Celeste was fire incarnate—untamed, relentless, consuming. Tonight, I surrendered completely, willingly lost in her flames.

Her back met the bedroom wall with a soft, breathless gasp, her eyes blazing into mine with defiance and desire. I stepped closer, pressing my body firmly against hers, feeling every sharp inhale and exhale against my chest.

"You think you can wear that dress and not expect consequences?" I murmured, my voice rough with longing as my fingertips traced the delicate outline of her waist, moving slowly upward, savoring each shiver beneath my touch.

Her lips parted slightly, her breathing quickening as she tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me impossibly closer. "Maybe I was counting on it."

A dark chuckle escaped me as I lifted her effortlessly, pressing her tighter against the wall. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, her hands gripping my shoulders, our faces mere inches apart. "Careful what you wish for, Ogonëk. I've never been known for restraint."

"Then don't hold back," she challenged, her voice a sultry whisper filled with need and invitation.

Our mouths crashed together fiercely, passionately, a clash of fire and hunger. Her taste—whiskey and secrets—flooded my senses, making me dizzy. Our tongues tangled in an intoxicating dance, desperate, unrestrained, and electric.

I moved us towards the bed, never breaking our heated kiss, her fingers clawing gently down my back, my hands exploring every curve, every line of her body as if memorizing a sacred scripture. Each touch, each caress sent sparks racing across my skin, igniting a need deeper than mere physical desire.

As we fell onto the bed, wrapped in silk sheets and tangled limbs, our movements slowed, shifting from raw passion to tender exploration. Our eyes locked, holding unspoken words and promises between us. My heart thundered fiercely in my chest, vulnerability mixing with strength.

In the stillness that followed, as her fingertips traced lazy patterns across my chest, I reached discreetly into the bedside drawer, pulling out the small velvet box hidden for too long.

Taking her hand in mine, I pressed a soft kiss against her fingertips, then gently placed the box in her palm. Her eyes widened slightly, uncertainty flickering amidst the fiery warmth of her gaze.

"Adrian…" her voice trembled softly, emotion swimming in her eyes.

My thumb gently brushed her cheek, my own voice raw, stripped of every barrier I had ever erected. "Celeste, I've spent my whole life fighting. For power, control, vengeance—but nothing, nothing has ever mattered the way you do. You broke down every wall, every shield. You made me realize that true power isn't control—it's surrendering to something greater."

She stared at me, eyes wide, her breath catching at the raw honesty pouring from my soul.

"I don't have the right words, and god knows I don't deserve you, but I'll spend every day I have left proving that I want nothing more than you by my side. You changed my definition of strength. Loving you isn't weakness—it's my greatest strength." My voice cracked slightly, betraying just how deeply she had claimed my heart. "Marry me, Celeste. Not because I deserve you, but because I refuse to face another day without you."

Her eyes shimmered, the emotion unmistakable, overwhelming. Her fingers tightened around the box, trembling slightly. A single tear slipped down her cheek as her lips parted, the answer shining clear in her gaze even before she spoke.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with absolute certainty, warmth, and the promise of forever.

And as our lips met again, slow and tender, sealing our bond with a promise stronger than any empire, I knew this was my greatest victory. This love—wild, consuming, unapologetic—was the only battle worth fighting for.

 Celeste....

The wedding was small, intimate—just the people who mattered most to us. It wasn't about grandeur or spectacle; it was about the quiet, powerful promise we were making to each other.

I stood before Adrian, wrapped in soft ivory silk, my heart pounding as his dark eyes held mine, burning with something deeper than love—pure, unyielding devotion.

"I never thought I'd belong to anyone," I murmured softly, my voice barely audible as my fingers traced the intricate engraving on the ring he had just placed gently onto my finger.

He reached out, brushing his thumb tenderly along my jawline, his gaze steady, certain. "You don't," he whispered with fierce sincerity. "You belong to yourself, Celeste. You just chose to stand beside me."

I smiled, my heart full, warmth spreading through my chest. "And if I had said no?"

His smirk was slow, confident, a quiet promise in itself. "Then I would've spent every moment of my life convincing you otherwise."

Our vows were whispered, secrets meant only for us, intimate promises exchanged beneath the watchful eyes of those we loved most. And when we kissed, the world faded into silence, leaving only the relentless fire and deep tenderness that bound us together.

Months Later

Pregnancy was… an experience.

Adrian was protective to a fault, obsessively cautious to the point of absurdity.

"I can carry my own bag, Adrian," I laughed lightly, rolling my eyes as he tried yet again to relieve me of even the smallest burdens.

"Absolutely not," he growled softly, his eyes narrowing at my belly as if our daughter were made of spun glass. As if I hadn't survived shootouts and chaos.

"I'm pregnant, Adrian. Not helpless," I chided gently, though secretly loving every moment of his relentless attention.

His hands slid protectively to my waist, pulling me close, his lips grazing my temple with profound reverence. "You're carrying our daughter. That makes you everything—everything in this world worth protecting."

My breath hitched, my heart softening dangerously. Damn him, that voice and that look of complete devotion.

"Fine," I relented, my voice a mock sigh, but my smile betraying how deeply I appreciated his care. He smirked victoriously, taking the bags, leaving me shaking my head affectionately.

He would drive me crazy with this protectiveness. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Year Later

The moment I first held her, something inside me shifted irreversibly.

Our daughter stared up at me with Adrian's piercing dark eyes, quietly observing everything around her even as a newborn. Yet, in her gaze, I saw a reflection of myself—a burning curiosity, an unyielding spirit.

Adrian hovered protectively at my side, his large, strong hands gently supporting me, his voice softer and more tender than I'd ever heard it. "She's perfect," he breathed reverently, almost in disbelief.

I smiled softly, my eyes glistening as I pressed a gentle kiss to our daughter's silky forehead. "She's ours."

Adrian's chest rose and fell slowly, as if taking in a moment he never truly thought possible. He reached out, delicately brushing his knuckle across her tiny, delicate hand, the vulnerability in his eyes breathtaking. "I never believed I'd deserve something like this."

I turned my face to him, meeting his vulnerable gaze, my voice filled with emotion. "You deserve this, Adrian. We both do."

He swallowed hard, overcome by something deeper than words could capture. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me into him gently, his lips brushing mine in a tender, meaningful kiss—a kiss that carried the weight of every battle we'd faced, every scar we'd earned.

From that day forward, Adrian Russo was no longer a king bound by violence and war.

He was simply a man who had finally found his peace—a man who had found a love fierce enough to conquer all.