Chapter 16: Long Road home
The late afternoon sun slanted through the ancient oaks lining the Kingsroad, dappling the packed earth path with shifting patterns of gold and shadow. Liliana nudged her mare, Seraphina, into a gentle trot, the rhythmic sway familiar, almost comforting. Yet today, comfort felt elusive. The crisp mountain air had given way to the warmer, pollen-scented breeze of the lowlands, carrying the sweet perfume of wild bluebells and the damp, earthy smell of the forest floor.
Behind her, the rhythmic clop of hooves and the creak of wood announced the imperial carriage. Apollo’s carriage. She could feel it without looking – the weight of his gaze pressing against her back, tracing the line of her spine, lingering on the sway of her hips as she moved with Seraphina’s gait. It was a physical sensation, like sunlight concentrated through a lens, burning through the thin fabric of her riding trousers and the familiar white halter top she’d changed back into.
Her cheeks flamed anew. Gods, why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? The memory wasn't a gentle replay; it was a visceral assault. The groan of the oak table beneath her. The shocking heat of his mouth on her inner thigh. The impossible, devastating fullness as he’d claimed her. The way her own cries had echoed off the stone walls, unrestrained, wanted. The profound stillness afterward, his forehead against hers, her name raw on his lips. Worship. He’d called it worship. And it had felt like it. A terrifying, exhilarating surrender.
She’d spent years expertly dodging him, weaving through palace functions with a dancer’s grace, hiding behind Delvin’s easy camaraderie, using her playful smile like a shield. Avoiding the imperial orbit, especially its blindingly intense center. Because she knew. Knew the danger of that aloof intensity, the way his rare smile could stop hearts. Knew the secret she carried – the Grand Duke’s blood mingling with her Jaguar insignia – made proximity to the Crown Prince perilous. A secret she guarded fiercely.
And now? Now she felt scraped raw. Bewildered. The careful avoidance lay in tatters, scattered like the books on that library table. He’d seen her, truly seen her, in a way no one else ever had – not just the playful warrior, the alluring distraction, but the trembling core laid bare. And instead of recoiling, he’d… worshipped.
Seraphina snorted, tossing her head as a butterfly flitted past. Liliana tightened her grip on the reins, her knuckles white against the leather. Focus. She needed focus. The road. The trees. The scent of pine needles warmed by the sun. Anything but the phantom feel of his hands pushing her thighs apart, the echo of his low command: "Let me."
A flicker of movement caught her eye. Apollo had leaned forward slightly in the carriage window. The sunlight caught the gold bands on his arms and throat, glinting fiercely. His long blonde hair was tied back neatly, emphasizing the sharp, aristocratic lines of his face. He wasn't smiling. His expression was unreadable from this distance, but the intensity of his focus was unmistakable. Watching her. Always watching.
Liliana deliberately straightened her posture, lifting her chin. She wouldn’t squirm. She wouldn’t blush again (though she felt the heat creeping up her neck). She was Jaguar Guard. Elite. Trained. She’d faced down bandits and political assassins. She could handle the gaze of one infuriatingly handsome prince.
Couldn’t she?
The memory surged again, unbidden: his crystal blue eyes, dark with primal hunger, locked onto hers as he drove into her, the steady, relentless rhythm that had shattered her control. The way he’d demanded her sounds, reveled in them. "So cute... trying so hard to be quiet." A fresh wave of heat washed over her, pooling low in her belly. Gods, she could still feel the ache, a deep, pleasant throb that echoed his thrusts.
"Damn him," she muttered under her breath, urging Seraphina into a slightly faster trot, putting a few more yards between herself and the carriage. The wind whipped strands of pink hair loose from her low pigtails, tickling her cheeks.
The road curved, following the contour of a moss-covered hillock. Liliana glanced back, almost against her will. Apollo was still at the window. His gaze hadn’t wavered. It felt like a challenge. Or an accusation. Or… something else entirely. Something that made her breath catch.
What did he want now? Was the mountain retreat just… sport? A royal diversion? The thought sent a sharp pang through her chest, unexpected and unwelcome. Or was it something more? The raw reverence in his voice afterward, the bewildered softness in his eyes… that hadn’t felt like dismissal. It felt like… the beginning of something terrifyingly vast.
She thought of Delvin. Her anchor. Her safe harbor. His easy laugh, his unwavering loyalty. What would he think if he knew? Disgust? Betrayal? The secret she kept from him felt heavier than ever. Avoiding Apollo had been about self-preservation, about protecting her place, her identity. Now… now it felt tangled with something else. Something she couldn’t name.
The carriage drew closer as the road straightened. Apollo’s window was level with her now. She could see the fine weave of his cream-colored tunic, the smooth muscle of his exposed shoulder beneath the draped fabric. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, focusing on the dappled path, the swaying branches overhead. But her skin prickled. She could feel his scrutiny like a physical touch.
"Enjoying the ride, Jaguar?" His voice cut through the sounds of the forest and the carriage – deep, calm, carrying effortlessly on the breeze. Cordial. Perfectly controlled. The Crown Prince addressing a guard. Nothing more.
Liliana forced herself to turn her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were clear blue again, cool, assessing. The intensity of the library alcove was banked, hidden behind the royal mask. But it hadn't vanished. She saw it flicker, deep beneath the surface, like sunlight glinting off ice over dark water.
"It’s a fine day, Your Highness," she replied, her voice thankfully steady. Professional. Guard-like. "The road is clear."
A ghost of something touched his lips. Not a smile. More like acknowledgment. Or… amusement? "Indeed. Clearer than the mountain pass." He paused, his gaze drifting deliberately down her form – the curve of her waist, the line of her thigh against the saddle – before returning to her face. "You ride well. With… confidence."
The pause, the lingering look, sent another jolt through her. It was deliberate. A reminder. A claim staked without words. Her cheeks burned anew. She looked away quickly, focusing on the road ahead where it dipped into a small, flower-filled hollow. "Training, Your Highness. Essential for a Jaguar."
"Essential," he echoed softly. The word hung in the air between them, laden with unspoken meaning. Essential for duty? Or essential for… other things? The silence stretched, thick with the hum of insects and the rustle of leaves. The carriage wheels crunched steadily on the gravel path.
Liliana gripped the reins tighter. The palace loomed in her mind – its watchful eyes, its suffocating protocols. Delvin would be waiting. Questions would be asked. How could she step back into that world carrying the memory of Apollo’s mouth, his hands, the devastating fullness of him? How could she face Apollo across a council table or a ballroom floor, knowing what his skin tasted like, knowing the sounds he drew from her?
The palace gates felt like prison bars looming on the horizon, each hoofbeat carrying her closer to scrutiny and impossible pretence. Liliana squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to banish the phantom sensation of Apollo’s hands, his mouth, the deep, claiming pressure that had shattered her control. How could she stand guard duty while remembering the raw sound of his groan, the way her own cries had echoed off stone walls? How could she look Delvin in the eye?
"Hold!" Apollo's command cut through her spiralling thoughts, crisp and absolute. The carriage halted near a wide, mossy clearing dappled with sunlight. "We break here. Half an hour."
Servants quickly spread blankets under the ancient oaks. Liliana dismounted, grateful for the solid earth beneath her boots. She busied herself with Seraphina’s reins, checking the mare’s tack with meticulous care, avoiding looking towards the prince as he stood near his carriage. The air smelled of damp moss, warm horsehide, and the simple fare being unpacked – crusty bread, sharp cheese, cured sausage.
She accepted a wedge of cheese and a waterskin, leaning against Seraphina’s warm flank. The quiet buzz of insects and the soft murmur of the guard detail felt distant, muffled. Apollo remained near his carriage, speaking quietly with his captain. He hadn't glanced her way again. Relief warred with a confusing pang of disappointment. Was the mountain truly forgotten? Just royal sport?
As the servants began efficiently repacking the remnants of lunch, Apollo finally turned. His gaze found her instantly, pinning her in place. He gestured, a minimal flick of his fingers towards his carriage door. "Liliana." His voice carried easily, calm but undeniable. "Accompany me. We have something to discuss. Your horse will be tended."
Her stomach lurched. Every instinct screamed to refuse, to mount Seraphina and ride hard in any other direction. But years of ingrained discipline, the Jaguar’s oath, held her rigid. "Your Highness," she acknowledged, her voice thankfully level. She handed Seraphina’s reins to a waiting stable hand, her fingers lingering on the familiar leather. What could he possibly need to discuss privately, miles from the palace? An official reprimand? Or… something else?
She approached the imposing carriage door. A footman opened it. Apollo stood aside, waiting. Liliana took a steadying breath, the scent of polished wood and expensive leather filling her nose, and climbed in. The door thudded shut behind her, sealing them in sudden, intimate dimness. The footman drew the heavy velvet curtains closed over the windows with a finality that echoed in her chest.
The interior was spacious, plush seats upholstered in deep crimson. Apollo settled opposite her, the gold bands on his arms gleaming dully in the filtered light. He said nothing. Just watched her. His crystal blue eyes traced the line of her jaw, the fall of her pink curls, the tense line of her shoulders beneath the white halter. The silence stretched, thick as mountain fog, broken only by the muffled sounds of the outside world fading as the carriage lurched into motion. Her skin prickled under his unwavering scrutiny. Minutes crawled by, measured by the rhythmic creak of the carriage and the pounding of her own heart.
He just watched. Unblinking. Assessing. Remembering? The tension coiled tight in her chest. Finally, she couldn't bear it. "Your Highness," she began, her voice sounding too loud in the confined space, "you spoke of wanting to speak with me?" She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Something important?"
A faint, enigmatic smile touched his lips. "Indeed." He leaned back slightly, the movement fluid and controlled. "We near the capital." His voice was low, deliberate. "The world resumes its… structure. Its expectations." He paused, letting the implication hang. "I wished to ensure there is no confusion between us."
Confusion? Liliana’s brow furrowed. She felt off-balance, her mind scrambling. "Confusion?" she echoed, the word tasting strange. "Regarding what, precisely?"
"Yes." The single syllable dropped like a stone. Then, with startling speed and strength, he moved. Not away. Towards her. In one fluid motion, Apollo leaned across the narrow space. His hand shot out, not rough, but utterly unyielding, closing around her wrist like a manacle forged from sunlight. He pulled.
Liliana gasped, propelled forward off the plush seat. She landed not beside him, but directly between his thighs, her back pressed flush against the hard, broad plane of his chest. The sudden heat of him, the solid immovability, stole her breath. His free arm snaked around her waist, anchoring her firmly against him. "There," he murmured, his breath a warm whisper against the shell of her ear, laced with dark satisfaction. "Better."
Her entire body ignited. Cheeks flaming, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, she was acutely aware of every point of contact: the hard muscle beneath the fine fabric of his tunic against her spine, the powerful thighs bracketing her hips, the possessive weight of his arm. Confusion evaporated, replaced by a terrifying, exhilarating clarity of position. He held her captive not by force alone, but by the sheer, undeniable reality of his body and the memory of how completely he’d claimed hers. The carriage rolled onward, the outside world forgotten, leaving only the heat, the confinement, and the prince’s unspoken demand resonating in the velvet-darkened space.
The carriage rolled onward, the outside world forgotten, leaving only the heat, the confinement, and the prince’s unspoken demand resonating in the velvet-darkened space. Apollo’s arm tightened around her waist, a steel band anchoring her against the powerful wall of his chest. His breath, warm and deliberate, feathered against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sending shivers cascading down her spine despite the stifling warmth cocooning them.
“Still avoiding my gaze, Jaguar?” His murmur was low, almost conversational, yet it vibrated through her, resonating with the memory of his raw voice in the library. “After such… thorough worship?”
His free hand, large and impossibly warm, slid slowly up her thigh, the worn leather of her riding trousers doing nothing to mute the shocking intimacy of the touch. It traced the sensitive inner seam, deliberate, relentless, igniting a path of fire beneath the fabric. She sucked in a sharp breath, bracing her hands on his muscular thighs as much to push away as to steady herself against the lurching carriage and the dizzying assault on her senses. “Your Highness–”
“Hush.” The command was velvet-wrapped steel. His palm flattened high on her inner thigh, radiating heat that seemed to sear straight to her core. “I recall every sound you made that night. Every gasp.” His head dipped lower, his lips brushing the curve where her neck met her shoulder, a ghost of a touch that made her muscles clench. “I intend to hear them again.”
His hand didn’t stop. It swept upwards, over her hip, skimming the curve of her waist where her halter top met the waistband of her trousers. Liliana’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the steady rumble of the carriage wheels. His fingers found the soft skin of her midriff, then slid higher, encountering the firm swell of her breast beneath the thin white fabric. “Apollo…” His name escaped her, a breathless plea lost in the intimate gloom.
“Shh,” he breathed again, his lips now tracing the delicate shell of her ear. She felt the curve of his smile against her skin. “So fierce on the battlefield. So beautifully undone here.” His fingers slipped beneath the edge of her halter top with shocking ease, the cool air a brief shock before the searing heat of his palm covered her breast. His thumb found her nipple instantly, already taut and straining against the thin barrier of her undergarment, and began to rub slow, maddening circles.
The sensation was electric, a jolt of pure sensation that arced straight down to her belly, tightening it unbearably. She arched involuntarily back against him, a soft moan escaping before she could bite it back. He chuckled, the sound a dark vibration against her back. “There she is.”
His other hand joined the first, mirroring its path beneath the fabric, claiming her other breast with the same possessive expertise. Both thumbs worked her nipples now, rolling and teasing until she was trembling in his embrace, her breath coming in shallow gasps. He nuzzled her neck, his lips trailing fire. “My perfect, forbidden flower,” he whispered, the words a hot brand against her pulse point, laced with heady satisfaction and something dangerously close to reverence. “Melting just for me.”
The evidence of his own desire pressed insistently against the small of her back, hard and unmistakable even through the layers of their clothes – a potent counterpoint to the exquisite torment his hands were wreaking. It was a physical declaration, undeniable and thrilling, anchoring her completely in the devastating reality of his touch, his scent, the low rumble of his voice in the intimate dark. She could feel her own body responding, softening, yielding against the rigid strength of his, the boundaries she’d spent years constructing dissolving like smoke in the heat radiating between them. Every nerve ending screamed, hyper-aware of the rough pad of his thumb circling her sensitive peak, the possessive weight of his hands, the insistent pressure against her spine demanding an answer she wasn’t sure she could articulate, only feel.
His thumb kept circling, relentless, possessive, sending jolts straight to her core. She shuddered, arching further back into him, the hard ridge of his erection a brand against her spine. "Apollo," she gasped, the name ripped from her throat, half-protest, half-plea lost in the muffled rumble of the wheels.
"Hush," he commanded again, his voice thick with desire, but his hands abruptly abandoned her breasts. One arm locked like iron around her waist, holding her immobile against his chest. The other slid down, skimming past her hip, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her riding trousers with shocking intent. Cool air brushed her stomach, then the rough warmth of his hand slid lower, beneath the thin silk of her underwear, finding the damp heat waiting for him.
She gasped, hips jerking involuntarily. "Gods–" His fingers didn't fumble, finding the slick, swollen nub of her clit with unerring accuracy. He traced slow, deliberate circles, the pressure building with agonizing perfection. "Oh!" The cry escaped, sharp and involuntary, as a tremor shook her from head to toe. Delight and humiliation warred within her, the sensations overwhelming. "Please..."
"Let me hear you," he breathed against her neck, his lips finally claiming her skin in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue followed, tracing whorls and patterns on her sensitive throat, a counterpoint to the devastatingly precise circles below. She writhed, trapped between the pleasure coiling unbearably tight and the rigid strength pinning her. His finger pressed harder, faster, the friction exquisite torture. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the sounds, her body trembling violently under his relentless touch. Another finger joined the first, sliding easily into her slick heat, curling just so.
She cried out, back arching wildly as the wave crashed over her, sharp and blinding. He held her through the convulsions, his fingers working her gently, prolonging the shudders that left her breathless and boneless against him. Before the tremors fully subsided, his hands shifted. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her higher slightly. The hand beneath her trousers yanked them down her hips, rough and urgent, baring her from the waist down. Cool air kissed her exposed skin, a shocking contrast to the heat radiating from him. She felt the shift in his own clothing, heard the soft rustle, then the sudden, heavy heat of his freed cock pressing against the curve of her backside.
He lifted her easily, his strength terrifying, positioning her hips precisely. "Hold on," he growled, the command rough with need. Liliana instinctively braced her hands on his powerful thighs, her blush scalding as she hovered above him, completely exposed. His blunt, thick head nudged against her slick entrance, the pressure immense, undeniable. A thrill, sharp and electric, shot up her spine, chasing away the lingering languor. She felt him poised, the hard length demanding entry, the air thick with the scent of leather, arousal, and the faint, sweet trace of her own perfume. The carriage jolted over a rut, and he surged upwards, filling her completely in one deep, claiming stroke. She gasped, a sound punched from her lungs, her body stretching to accommodate his thickness, the sheer, overwhelming fullness stealing her breath all over again. His groan, low and primal, vibrated against her back as his hands gripped her hips, anchoring her as he began to move.