The night began with laughter.
We had stumbled into a private room in the manor's west wing — just Daemon and me — after being caught in a sudden rainstorm during our late-night ride. We were soaked to the bone, our clothes clinging to our skin, and I couldn't stop laughing as I slipped off my boots by the hearth, droplets flying everywhere.
Daemon had uncorked a bottle of some aged Fae wine he kept hidden — dark violet in color, with a scent like plums and roses soaked in midnight. I hadn't intended to drink much. Neither had he.
But something about the firelight and the quiet made it feel like the rest of the world had vanished. Like, just for tonight, the curse didn't exist. The stakes didn't exist. Only us — breathing, wet-haired, warm-bodied — wrapped in shadows and wine.
"You have a terrible drinking laugh," I told him, giggling.
"And you have the grace of a duck when you're tipsy," he countered, lifting his glass to his lips, silver eyes gleaming.
"A duck?" I gasped. "That's the worst animal you could've chosen!"
"A royal duck," he corrected, placing a hand to his heart. "Elegant. Slightly unhinged. Prone to flapping."
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it easily and tossed it aside, then stood up, walking slowly toward me, the fire casting golden light along the edges of his soaked shirt. He pulled it off over his head, wringing it out beside the fireplace.
I stared.
His body was all lean muscle and grace , carved lines and scars and stories I wanted to read with my hands. My cheeks flushed, but I didn't look away.
"You're staring princess " he said.
"You're not exactly giving me a reason to stop," I murmured.
I didn't know he heard me
We locked eyes for more than a minute
His smile faded into something softer. Hungrier.
The tension rose like heat between us, slow and inevitable.
I stood, knees wobbling slightly from the wine, and walked up to him. We were only inches apart now , chest to chest, breath to breath.
"Daemon," I whispered.
"Emilia."
I didn't know who kissed first. Maybe it was both of us. Maybe we met somewhere in the middle ,mouths colliding with a mix of longing and fire and the ache of everything unsaid.
He looked at me like I was made of stars.
"You're beautiful," he said, voice hoarse.
I reached for his face, tracing the line of his jaw, then the scar across his collarbone, then lower — down the center of his chest, over his heart.
"So are you." I replied
The bed was somewhere behind us, and before I knew it, we were tangled in sheets , not naked, but close. His mouth was everywhere —,my shoulder, my throat, my stomach. My hands slid along his back, holding on like the room was spinning, like I needed his body to steady mine.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered between kisses, voice barely holding itself together.
"I don't," I blurted.
But still… we didn't cross that final line.
Somehow, even in our hunger, even in the hazy heat of too much wine and too much want, there was a boundary we didn't let ourselves shatter. Not yet.
Instead, we explored each other like we had all the time in the world ,like every brush of skin, every breathless sigh, every kiss down my spine or moan in the hollow of his throat was a promise, not a rush.
Eventually, exhausted and tangled, we curled beneath the blankets. His arms were wrapped around me. My leg was draped over his hips. His forehead pressed against my temple.
"Stay," he whispered, already half-asleep.
And I did.
---
Morning Light
The sun woke me.
At first, I didn't know where I was. The mattress was too soft, the sheets too warm, and there was a weight draped over my waist , solid, muscular, breathing.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Daemon.
I gasped.
He was still asleep beside me, shirtless, lips slightly parted, dark lashes brushing his cheek. One arm was flung around me possessively. My own arm was trapped between our bodies, our legs entwined like lovers who'd shared everything.
My heart slammed into my chest.
What did we do?
I sat up too fast. My head throbbed from the wine, and the sheets fell away, revealing that I was still clothed
Relief flooded me.
But it was short-lived.
Daemon stirred behind me, groaning softly. He blinked, turned, then froze when he saw me.
"Oh no," he muttered, sitting up. "Did we…?"
"I don't think so," I said, voice high with panic. "I mean, I'm not… you didn't… are we…?"
He rubbed his face.
"I remember kissing you. And touching you. But I stopped. I'm sure I stopped."
"I remember too," I said. "And you did. We did."
We both stared at the bed, the discarded clothes, the faint scent of wine and heat still lingering in the air.
Then — simultaneously — we groaned and flopped back down onto the bed.
"This is a disaster," I muttered.
"A very warm, very dangerous disaster," he added, glancing at me from the pillow.
"We need rules," I said.
"We need less wine," he replied.
I rolled onto my side, facing him. "Daemon?"
"Yes?"
"Do you regret it?"
He went quiet.
Then, slowly, he shook his head.
"No. I can't just wait for you to be mine … so I can remember every single second with clarity."
My breath caught.
I blushed.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
"Next tim
"When you are mine ," he said quietly, "I won't need the wine to touch you like that."
And just like that, my heart , already bruised and beating far too fast , forgot how to stay calm.
---