CHAPTER 19 Sep 23, 2025 I wasn't in a dungeon-but it felt like one. They'd moved me to the farthest room in the North Tower. Past the royal archives, beyond the servants' quarters, behind a heavy oak door I hadn't even known existed. The windows were narrow slits barred in black iron. The stone walls swallowed every sound. I couldn't hear the bells, or footsteps, or even the wind. My meals arrived on silver trays I didn't ask for, carried by servants who kept their eyes fixed on the floor. No answers. No voices. No company. Just a lock that clicked softly every time the door shut behind them. Every time I touched the handle, it stayed cold. Immovable. No visitors allowed. No reason given. Just stillness pressing in from all sides. I hadn't been arrested. I hadn't been dismissed. But it was clear: I was being hidden. Removed. Like I'd become a secret too dangerous to be seen. A pawn pulled from the board before anyone could notice she mattered. I wasn't sure if I was being protected-or erased. I paced until the soles of my shoes wore thin. Pressed my palm to the cold glass and wondered what time it was, what day. Whether I was forgotten-or worse, remembered and ignored. The palace hummed beyond the walls, but it felt a world away. Until Alexander came. The door flung open with a roar of splintered wood and metal. His eyes were fire and fury, burning through the gloom like a blade. "I told them never to touch you," he growled, voice ragged. I flinched at the sound, not from fear-but from the heat of it. His rage wrapped around the room like a storm. The broken frame clattered to the floor, and for one breathless second, all I could hear was him. Breathing like he'd run through hell to get here. His fists were still clenched, one knuckle bleeding. His chest heaved, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might break the entire room apart just to make space for me. I stepped back, startled. "What are you-" But then he was there, crossing the room in three strides. He shattered the broken lock beneath his boot and pulled me into his arms. Tight. Breathless. Like letting go would shatter us both. No words. Just trembling silence. His breath was warm against my temple. His grip was shaking. He held me like I was the last real thing in the world. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His voice cracked on the second syllable. "You don't belong in a cage. Not again." My hands curled into his coat. "Why now?" I whispered. "How did you even know I was here?" He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression raw. "Because when they told me you left... it didn't feel right." His voice dropped, tight with anger. "My mother said you couldn't handle the pressure. That you asked to go." He shook his head. "But I know you. And the way she said it-too calm, too clean-I knew something was off. I started asking questions." His hand tightened slightly in mine. "I didn't know they'd lock you away , Marianne. I didn't think even she would go that far." The look in his eyes told me everything: he had doubted her, and he'd been right. And it terrified him how close he'd come to believing her. I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. His heartbeat thundered through his chest like a war drum. I didn't know what to say-if saying anything would undo the moment. So I held him. And let him hold me. He pulled back, just enough to reach into his coat. From the folds, he drew out a ring-small, silver, shaped like a fang with a glint of something ancient in its design. It gleamed like moonlight and danger all at once. He didn't speak for a second. Then-quietly, almost afraid-he slipped it into my palm and closed my fingers around it. "As long as you wear this, no one can hurt you." I opened my hand and stared at it. The metal was cool against my skin, curved like a weapon. "Do you really think a ring will protect me?" "No," he said softly. His hand touched my cheek, thumb brushing beneath my eye. "But I will." I swallowed. "They locked me up like I was something shameful," I whispered. "Like I'm your weakness." "You're not," he said instantly. "You're not a weakness. You're the only reason I haven't surrendered to it yet." His hand reached for my face, fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. "Tell me to leave," he whispered, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Tell me this is madness." "The curse," I said, my voice barely audible. "Tell me how it started." His eyes darkened. "Not now. Later." "Now." I pressed closer, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. "I need to understand what we're fighting against." Alexander's hands tangled in my hair, his forehead pressing against mine. "It began with jealousy. With a woman who couldn't accept rejection." His breath was hot against my lips. "She bound me to this place, to serve as guardian until someone could break the chains she forged." "How?" "Love," he said simply. "True love, freely given. The one thing she never had." His mouth found mine then-desperate, claiming. I tasted the weight of years in that kiss, the loneliness that had carved hollows in his soul. My body responded instantly, every nerve alive with want. "The risk-" I started to say, but he silenced me with another kiss. "Let me worry about the risk." His hands moved to the ties of my nightgown, fingers working with practiced efficiency. "I've waited too long to taste freedom." The fabric pooled at my feet. His eyes devoured me, mapping every curve as if committing me to memory. When he lifted me onto the bed, his touch was reverent, worshipful. "You're beautiful," he breathed against my throat. "So beautiful it hurts." I pulled him down to me, feeling the solid weight of him, the promise of what this moment could mean. His shirt joined my nightgown on the floor. In the moonlight, I could see the scars that marked his chest. "Each one a reminder," he said, catching my stare, his voice rough like something torn from the inside of him. "Of what I've lost." His torso was a map of pain-ridges, lines, old wounds layered beneath taut skin. Scars like brushstrokes of violence. I should've looked away. Instead, I reached out, hand trembling. I touched the largest scar-slow, reverent, tracing the edge with the tip of my finger. "And what you've saved," I whispered. He shuddered beneath that single stroke. His jaw clenched. His hands fisted in the sheets. That tight, fraying control-his constant companion-fractured right there in front of me. And then we broke together. He surged forward, mouth on mine, crushing, consuming. His hands found my thighs, my hips, everywhere -dragging me into his lap, straddling him. The kiss turned raw, messy, breathless. He kissed down my neck like he was starved for the taste of me. "Say stop," he rasped, voice breaking against my skin. I didn't. I couldn't . Instead, I grabbed his face between both hands and kissed him harder-gave him permission with every filthy, aching sound I made. My legs wrapped around his waist. His cock was hard against my center, pulsing through his pants, and I was soaked -grinding against him, needing more. He ripped my shirt over my head, flung it aside, and stared like he'd been holding his breath for centuries. "You're unreal," he whispered. "A fucking miracle." His mouth found my breasts-lips, tongue, teeth-biting and worshipping like he didn't know where to begin. I cried out, head falling back. My hands slipped under his waistband, freeing him, and God , he was already dripping, heavy and hard in my hand. "Fuck, Marianne," he groaned, voice hoarse. "I need to be inside you." "Then take me," I panted, pulling him down, opening myself. He slid inside with one deep, devastating thrust-and the world split . I arched up, gasping, eyes wide as he filled me completely . We didn't move at first. We just felt . The stretch. The burn. The breath we couldn't catch. Then he started to thrust-slow, grinding movements that had my toes curling, my body shaking. His name tore from my lips, half a sob. We moved like we were stealing fire from the gods. Like the universe had said no and we'd said fuck you . Every roll of his hips was a rebellion. Every moan was a promise. His hand slipped between us, rubbing tight circles over my clit. My thighs clenched around him, helpless. "Come for me," he growled against my throat. "Let me feel you fall apart." I did. God, I did. I shattered around him, crying out, body pulsing and clenching, writhing under his relentless rhythm. He fucked me through it, harder, faster, his own control snapping. He buried himself deep with a broken groan, spilling inside me, his mouth on mine, his body trembling against mine. Sweat cooling on skin. Hearts pounding. Legs tangled like roots. "The curse weakens when I'm with you," he murmured. I turned to him, eyes heavy but heart full. "I can feel it-like chains loosening." And I believed him. Because right then, even damnation felt holy. "Then we keep fighting." I pressed a kiss to his collarbone, tasting salt and something uniquely him. "Whatever Riven thinks he knows, whatever game he's playing-we face it together." Alexander's arms tightened around me. "Together," he agreed. But in his voice, I heard the echo of centuries-the knowledge that together might not be enough to break what had been forged in hatred and bound by magic.