Chapter 13: Loving Oneself
The silence in the royal apartments was a living thing, thick and honeyed, punctuated only by the distant, hollow chime of a tower clock. Lucian and Sebastian had been summoned an hour ago—some territorial dispute with a neighboring clan that required the King’s adjudication and his Consort’s thinly-veiled threats. “A tedious formality,” Lucian had assured her, kissing her temple. “We’ll be back before the sun reaches its peak.”
Alone, Charlotte had wandered the sprawling chambers, tracing the familiar paths she used to clean.It felt different now. The silks under her fingertips weren’t chores to be beaten and aired; they were textures to be savored. The scent of polished wood and beeswax was no longer the smell of labor, but of home.
Her feet had carried her, almost of their own accord, to the dressing room. To the floor-length mirror framed in darkened silver, its surface old and forgiving, throwing back a softened reflection.She stood before it, naked.
The cool air of the chamber raised goosebumps on her skin.She ignored them. She ignored, too, the faint constellations of silvery marks on her throat, the inner curve of her thighs—the fading evidence of her mates’ passions. They were part of the landscape now, but she was looking at the terrain itself.
Her hands came up, skimming over the slope of her hips. They were fuller, a pronounced curve where before there had been only the hard line of bone and taut muscle. Her waist nipped in sharply above them, a dramatic contrast she had never possessed. She turned slightly, watching the light play over the small of her back, the gentle swell of her rear.She brought a hand to her face. The hollows under her cheekbones were gone, filled out with soft, healthy flesh. Her skin, once pale and often sallow from poor feeding, glowed with a vital warmth. The storm-gray of her eyes seemed brighter, clearer, lit from within.She flexed her hands, examining her fingers. Her nails, always kept short and practical for work, had grown stronger, sharper at the tips. Not claws, but something hinting at a latent predator.
Then her gaze dropped, and a flush of heat, entirely her own, bloomed across her chest and neck.Her breasts.
They had always been… adequate.Functional. A part of her body she gave little thought to, bound flat and uncomfortable under her stiff maid’s dress.Now, they were a revelation. Full and heavy, they sat high on her chest, the nipples a deep, dusky rose against skin that seemed to shimmer.They were lush.Womanly in a way that felt foreign and intensely powerful. She cupped one, the weight a satisfying solidity in her palm. The peak hardened instantly under her touch, a sharp, sweet jolt of sensation arrowing straight to her core.
A low, breathless laugh escaped her. She remembered years of watching the court ladies and concubines, gliding through the halls in their decadent gowns, their corsets lifting and presenting their cleavage like an offering. She had felt a detached, almost clinical admiration for the architecture of it all. It had never occurred to her that her own body, freed from the shackles of scarcity and fear, could rival any of them.What would she look like in silk?In black velvet, cut low? In a corset of emerald green, squeezing her waist and pushing her breasts up until they threatened to spill over? The image was so vivid, so shockingly vain, that she bit her lip.
The doorknob turned.She didn’t startle. Their presence was a shift in the air, a thickening of the silence. She saw them first in the mirror: Lucian, still in his formal jacket, his expression unreadable as he took her in. Sebastian behind him, his emerald eyes darkening, his lips parting on a silent intake of breath.
For a long moment, no one spoke.Charlotte held her own gaze in the glass, a challenge and a confession.
“They’re waiting for you in the council chamber,” she said, her voice remarkably steady. “The delegation.”
“They can wait,” Lucian murmured, his voice like rough velvet. He shut the door softly.Sebastian stepped around him, his movements predatory and slow. “Gods above and below, Charlotte.” His eyes devoured her reflection, then swept over her actual skin. “Look at you.”
She finally turned from the mirror to face them.The exposure was dizzying. “I was just…” she began, but the excuse died.
“Admiring the view,” Sebastian finished for her, now only a pace away.The heat from his body reached out to her. “Can’t blame you. It’s fucking spectacular.”
Lucian approached from the other side, his golden eyes molten. “We’ve told you,” he said, his hand rising to hover just beside her cheek before cupping her jaw.“We’ve said the words. But seeing you see it…” He shook his head, awe in the gesture. “That is a different thing entirely.”
Sebastian’s fingertips brushed her collarbone, tracing down to the upper curve of her breast.A shiver wracked her. “All this,” he whispered, “was hiding under those dreadful grey dresses. All this gorgeous, delicious flesh.” His thumb swept over her nipple and she gasped, her head falling back against Lucian’s chest. “Do you have any idea what you do to us?”
“I’m beginning to,” she breathed.
Sebastian’s mouth crashed down on hers then, a kiss of pure, unadulterated hunger. It was demanding, filthy, his tongue claiming hers as his hands claimed her body, squeezing her hips, palming her breasts.She moaned into him, her hands fisting in his auburn hair.
Lucian’s lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his fangs scraping gently, promise and threat intertwined. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her back flush against the hard ridge of his erection straining against his trousers. “You are a feast, my heart,” he growled against her skin.Sebastian broke the kiss, his breathing ragged.“On the bed.Now. I need to be inside you. I need to feel this new body around my cock.”
The crude words, spoken with such raw, reverent desperation, sent a flood of wet heat between her legs. Lucian guided her backward, his arms strong around her, until the back of her knees hit the edge of the immense bed. She sank onto the black sheets, a pale, vibrant offering against the dark.Sebastian tore at his clothes, buttons flying. Lucian was calmer, methodical, but his eyes never left her. When they were both naked, the sight of them—all powerful muscle and immortal grace, fully aroused for her—stole her breath.
Sebastian didn’t wait. He crawled over her, kissing her deeply again, his hand sliding down her stomach, through her curls, and finding her soaked core. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned, sliding two fingers into her without hesitation.She cried out, arching off the bed. “All this from just looking at yourself? You vain, perfect creature.”
“Sebastian,” Lucian warned, but it was a growl of shared lust, not reproach.
“I know, I know,” Sebastian panted, withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself at her entrance. He looked into her eyes, his own wild with need.“Tell me you want it. Tell me you want this fat cock splitting you open.”
“Yes,” she hissed, beyond propriety, beyond anything but the aching need.“Do it. Fuck me.”
With a guttural sound, he slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.
The fullness was breathtaking, a brilliant, stretching ache that made her see stars. He was large, and her body, though transformed, had to adjust.She gasped, her nails digging into his back.
“So fucking tight,” he choked out, holding himself deep, letting her clench around him.“Even now. Christ, Charlotte.” He began to move, a slow, dragging withdrawal followed by a punishing, deep plunge.
The rhythm was relentless, consuming.Each thrust hit a spot inside her that made her legs tremble. Lucian moved beside them, his hand stroking her hair, then tracing her lips. She turned her head, taking his fingers into her mouth, sucking them, mimicking the act Sebastian was performing below. Lucian’s eyes flashed with dark fire.
“Touch yourself,” Lucian commanded softly, his other hand guiding hers down her own body.“Show him what you need. Show us.”
Her own fingers found the hard nub of her clit, circling it in frantic time with Sebastian’s pounding rhythm. The double sensation, the overwhelming fullness and the sharp, bright friction, coiled a tension in her belly so tight she thought she might break.
Sebastian’s pace grew frantic, his hips pistoning, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.His curses were a liturgy. “Take it, take all of it, you gorgeous fucking dhampir.This is where you belong. Under me.Filled with me. Coming on my cock.”
His words, the brutal, perfect friction, Lucian’s rapturous gaze—it was too much.The coil snapped. Her orgasm ripped through her, a silent scream tearing from her throat as her body convulsed, clenching around Sebastian in violent, milking waves.He shouted her name, his own control shattering. With three final, deep drives, he spilled into her, his hot release flooding her depths as he collapsed, shuddering, half on top of her.
They lay there, a tangle of spent limbs and ragged breath.Sebastian, still embedded within her, nuzzled her neck. Lucian leaned down, kissing her swollen lips with devastating tenderness.
After long moments, Sebastian softened and slipped out of her.Lucian lay beside her, drawing her into the curve of his body. Sebastian curled against her back, his arm possessively across her waist.
“The delegation,” Charlotte mumbled into Lucian’s chest, utterly spent.“Fuck the delegation,” Sebastian sighed, his voice saturated with satisfaction.
Lucian’s chuckle vibrated through her.“They are already gone. The matter was settled quickly.” His fingers traced the shell of her ear. “We had a more urgent appointment.”
Outside, the tower clock began to chime the hour of noon. The sound was no longer hollow, but rich, resonating through the stone, through the bed, through the three entwined hearts beating in steady, synchronized time.