“Sob… sob…”

  Lyanna’s shoulders trembled as she lay on the bed, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. Her body was still warm, her breathing uneven, but her mind had finally caught up with reality.

  Guilt crashed over her like a wave.

  She had crossed a line she once believed untouchable.

  Edric watched her quietly, seated at the edge of the bed. His gaze was calm — not mocking, not regretful — simply observant.

  She looked fragile like this.

  Not the composed physician of the Aurelian Imperial Academy.

  Not the dignified wife of Ronan Blackmere.

  Just a woman overwhelmed by the consequences of her own desire.

  He leaned forward and brushed his thumb gently along her cheek, wiping away a tear.

  “Don’t cry,” he murmured softly. “It hurts me to see you like this.”

  Lyanna’s eyes snapped open, shining with distress.

  “How dare you say that?” she whispered hoarsely. “After… after what we’ve done?”

  Her voice trembled — anger tangled with shame.

  Edric did not retreat.

  “It was not done alone,” he replied calmly.

  Her breath caught.

  He was right.

  And that truth made it worse.

  “I am a married woman,” she insisted weakly. “I betrayed my husband.”

  Edric leaned closer, his voice lowering until it brushed against her ear like silk.

  “Did you?”

  Her fingers tightened in the sheets.

  “You weren’t forced,” he continued quietly. “You weren’t powerless.”

  Each word struck her heart with uncomfortable precision.

  “You wanted to be seen,” he whispered. “You wanted to be wanted.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Because that was the part she feared most.

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  Not that she had sinned.

  But that she had desired it.

  Before she could argue, Edric captured her lips again — not roughly, not hurriedly — but with slow, deliberate intensity.

  This time, her resistance was barely there.

  Her hands rose automatically, resting against his chest… then gripping his clothing instead of pushing him away.

  The kiss deepened.

  Lingering.

  Claiming.

  Her breath grew heavier. The faint scent of her skin mixed with the warmth of the room. When he pulled her closer, she did not fight him.

  Instead, she trembled.

  The guilt did not vanish.

  It fused with desire.

  And that fusion made everything more intoxicating.

  Edric guided her gently upright, drawing her onto his lap.

  The sudden closeness made her gasp softly, her fingers instinctively digging into his shoulders for balance.

  “You shouldn’t…” she whispered.

  But she did not move away.

  Her pulse raced wildly beneath his touch. The memory of what they had already done still lingered in her body, making her hypersensitive to every brush of his hands.

  He traced slow paths along her back, down her waist, mapping her curves with deliberate patience.

  She shivered.

  “Why…” she breathed shakily, “…why are you still like this?”

  His lips curved faintly.

  “Because once isn’t enough.”

  Her face flushed deeply.

  The way he looked at her — steady, confident, hungry — made her feel desired in a way she had not felt in years.

  Slowly, almost unconsciously, her hips shifted.

  Seeking.

  Testing.

  The smallest movement was enough to draw a soft, involuntary sound from her throat.

  Edric noticed.

  And he smiled.

  He kissed her again, harder this time, his hands tightening slightly at her waist. The tension between them thickened, breathing mixing, bodies pressing closer.

  Her black hair spilled over his shoulders like silk, brushing against his chest as she moved.

  At some point, she stopped whispering objections.

  Instead, she began responding.

  Matching his rhythm.

  Clinging tighter.

  The fear of being discovered still lingered at the back of her mind — and that danger only heightened the intensity.

  Her composure unraveled piece by piece.

  Then—

  “Lyanna? Are you here?”

  Sir Ronan’s voice echoed from the living room.

  Lyanna froze instantly.

  Her body went rigid, eyes wide with terror.

  Edric reacted faster.

  He steadied her, pressing a finger to his lips.

  “Quiet.”

  Her heart hammered violently in her chest as footsteps approached.

  “I—I’m bathing!” she called out quickly, her voice shaking as she activated the water tool.

  Ronan entered the bedroom.

  Silence.

  A suffocating silence.

  Lyanna could barely breathe.

  Edric remained close behind her, his presence overwhelming and steady. He did not panic.

  He had already ensured nothing obvious remained.

  Ronan’s footsteps shifted.

  A pause.

  Then—

  “Oh. I found what I was looking for.”

  Lyanna’s knees nearly gave out from relief.

  “I’ll return later tonight,” Ronan said.

  “O-Okay,” she managed.

  The door closed.

  And only then did she release the breath she had been holding.

  But Edric did not step away.

  Instead, he leaned down and whispered against her ear,

  “That fear… made you tremble.”

  Her cheeks flushed violently.

  She had felt it too.

  The thrill.

  The forbidden danger.

  The closeness of being caught.

  It made everything sharper.

  More intense.

  She turned toward him weakly.

  “This is madness…”

  “And yet,” he murmured, brushing his lips along her jaw, “you’re still here.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut.

  Her final barrier collapsed.

  This time, when she pulled him close, it was her decision.

  The guilt was still there.

  The shame, too.

  But now they were tangled with heat, with breathless urgency, with the undeniable reality that she no longer wanted to stop.

  The quiet bathroom filled with soft gasps and whispered pleas — not of refusal, but of surrender.

  Outside, the night of the Eldoria Imperium deepened.

  Inside, Lyanna finally stopped pretending she was resisting.

  And Edric knew—

  This was no longer just a moment of weakness.

  It was the beginning of dependency.