cataclysmic

the sun streaked in soft rays through the stain glass of the hundred year old window, starting to set and teasing different hues of color along the carpet and over the ivory of nikolette’s skin, soft pinks and butterscotch yellows that painted against her petite frame and made him feel like he was a part of a real life fairy tale. the blue of her eyes was brilliant, blinding in their clarity, her lids heavy as she stared at him, watching each and every one of his ministrations between the dark web of her lashes. he was clinging to every tremor he felt ripple beneath her skin, committing it to memory as his mind raced to keep up, desperate to remember ever single facet of this as time slipped away like water cupped in his large hands. because this was it – this was everything and he felt like an addict, thinking about his next high before he was done with the first, so caught up in the idea that this may be the last time that he was breathless with it. she was the song he never wanted to stop listening to, the story he never wanted to end – valerio had never been so desperate to hold onto something, to someone, in his entire life, and he felt it like an all consuming presence, threatening to stifle him with it’s weight and promising retribution if he failed to maintain his already unsteady grasp on what he felt. 

he was in the presence of the future that he could have had. if he would have let her in, if valerio would have told nikolette how he truly felt when the time was right, he could have had everything that was now crumbling in front of him, and it was like water slipping through his cupped hands – inevitable and unyielding. because even now, with his lips pressed to her skin, he could taste the promise of what it would be like to truly have her. a mere fantasy, but one he was unwilling to forfeit in the light of reality. it was easier to pretend, to act like this was all a stalemate, that eventually, in time, he would have her. the feat was much simpler when he viewed it as such, and though it left him gasping for breath every time he awoke to the living nightmare that was being without her, he could calm his breathing with the thought of being with her just like he is now, whole and free and so hopelessly intertwined in everything that she was. it was in his meetings, whether it be in the company of global ambassadors or just those that made up his inner circle that he would recalled the spill of her honeyed hair between his fingers, smooth like silk and fine like gossamer, emitting a fragrance that was duly intoxicating as it was devastating. he’d think about what it would be like to have her for real, not a pretty thing dangling from his arm but his equal, his confidant, his partner that helped him rule with grace and diplomacy, the catalyst that would bring out the very best of him where it rested dormant within. and for that alone he would be grateful, if underserving; valerio would be lucky to have even a fraction of what he desired, a man who was beyond blessed if he would be able to share a life with her. it could be anything from shared whispers, pillow talk consisting of foreign affairs or rendezvous’ in his sprawling study, speaking filthy words in their native tongues as they unraveled each other bit by bit. valerio wanted it so badly, so wholly, that he was sure that it would consume him.

he’s again buoyed to the surface of his long time suffering as her nails make contact with his skin, a resounding hiss leaving his lips as she trails them along his back in response to everything that he had done, and he allowed himself to momentarily revel in all that she was. she epitomized debauchery, in the parted pink of her lips and the rise and fall of her chest with every drawn breath; he knew that she was nothing if not a masterpiece, something to view with awe and envy, something that he wanted so desperately for himself that he was unable to have. and in the end, he decided that he would only continue wanting – for as long as he lived, valerio could see no means to and end; it was futile to believe, to have ever believed, that he could exist without her. she was his end and his beginning, his salvation and his awakening, and his heart beat harder in his chest as each moment brought them closer to what he couldn’t help but to think would be their last. because as much as he wished it were, this wasn’t his castle, wasn’t his wife – he was no one in this kingdom but a visitor who had outstayed his welcome, and he felt like he could hear the sand falling in the hourglass that was timing their reunion, an incessant reminder of their limited window to do what they did best. as she pulls him close, another pulse of arousal leaves him greedy, a feral beast stirring within as she whispers against his ear, her words poised and sharp, an arrow making way for his weary heart. and he falls privy to that want, to the desire that’s been unearthed in her presence since the day they laid eyes on each other. valerio was a king only willing to obey a command from the woman beneath him. so in light of her own repressed release he moves out of her grip for a moment, retreating to only then return for a stolen kiss. his lips brush against hers in another vow, a kiss so unlike the countless others they had shared. it was lingering, intent, his tongue slow before she invites him in, brushing against hers before he finally pulls away once more. in his haste, he remains graceful, and the undoing of his belt only serves as a minute obstacle as he does as she requested. his own chest is heaving, not from exertion, but instead the weight that he feels pressing against his airway in light of all that he wishes to tell her. because yes, he wants her, but how does one say that you want to share life, to experience it’s ups and downs, its hills and valleys, all with her by his side? a master of language rendered speechless when the time really matters, and his unsteady fingers are indicative of this uncommon ground in which he toes across with such care. 

as he finally undoes his belt, he releases a ragged breath, and it takes everything he is not to allow himself to lose it right then and there, at the mere idea of what they’re doing – defiling the entirety of the union that was bennett and nikolette, bidding adieu to all the cares they may both have possessed once in light of the nature of their respective countries, of the world they’re duly trying to rebuild. it was enough to spur him on, and he gets lost, for a moment, admiring the beauty that emanates from every facet of her being, but also the adoration that threatened to choke him as his warm hues surveyed her. she was nothing but soft skin, supple beneath his touch and graciously accepting everything he offered. she was all soft, pitched breaths and stifled whines that she threatened to emit in hopes of preserving her vulnerability, and it just made him want to unravel her that much more, to have her trembling in his grip and to only be able to speak his name. it’s with ease that he rids himself of the confines that are only aiding in stopping his attempt to fuse with her completely, and in moments he’s back above her, both hands anchored on either side of her, fingers tangled in the hair that was splayed on the carpet beneath them. in a few, careful, steady strokes, he eases his way into nikolette, his hips rocking at an impossible rhythm that he can only exercise in moments like this, his restraint tangible in the air between them as he does his best not to hurt her. and for a moment his mind blanks, like a system going offline, it’s so good that he feels weightless, his limbs light and his heart lighter, like he could float away at any moment. and once his hips touch her own as he bottoms out, tension releases him in a strangled sound, uninhibited and completely honest, so raw and rough that even he is a stranger to it’s origin. and for a few more moments his brain catches up, his body reveling in what it’s like to yet again be sheathed in tight, wet heat, and he feels overwhelmed all over again. valerio forces himself to stay steady as he slowly pulls out, almost all the way, and thrusts back into her, harder than before. another half dozen times he does this, equally slow, but deeper and rougher with each shift of his hips. and then he kisses her, finally, and seconds are hours, days, weeks — it’s nothing but them and their lips, the way they fit and slide together with such utter perfection that it makes his heart flare and burn out like a spent bulb, weak in the presence of her being. it’s against her lips that’s he whispers, ‘you’re everything.’ the truest words he’s ever spoken, in a language they both speak, so there’s no mistake. he thrusts into her again this time, with no restraint, and another strained sound leaves him, his breath fanning against her lips. ‘i love you. i’m dying without you.’ and the words keep coming, and it’s like a faucet, pouring out everything he’s ever thought and simplifying it in a way his hazy brain can communicate. ‘i love you.’ he says again, and he can’t help but look at her, leveling his gaze with shocking blue. ‘you’re everything to me.’

time, nikolette found, is relative. small infinities stretch in the span of a handful of moments when the mind is otherwise occupied, when the heart’s focus is no longer on it’s rhythm, but the reason why it beats. a year passed with a single breath, the painful, empty moments folded in on themselves and forgotten as his lips brush along her throat. space, she realized, is relative as well. a few feet could feel like inches when she could see the rise and fall of his breaths, feel the heat of his gaze. a couple of centimeters turns to miles as the pads of their fingers trail across shoulders and thighs, never quite close enough to satisfy. her memory seemed lacking, as she swears that his touch has never quite scorched her as it was in that moment, her recall not as perfect as she’d initially assumed. and what she’d previously considered bitter memories, she realized were ongoing fantasies, imagined flashes of a life she hadn’t earned, one neither of them had fought hard enough for. what would it be like to have this every day? to see that fire burning behind his gaze every time their eyes met? to feel the tension thickening in the air between them? what kind of bliss would she have lived had they loved each other enough? every image was accompanied by a wave of pain in the center of her chest, every smile, every kiss, every touch burning with the reality of their fiction. but if nikolette kardos was anything, she was a masochist at heart. the torment was a constant reminder that she was alive, that he was real, that she hadn’t completely conjured up some terrible love from her desperation. he’d broken her on more than one occasion, and every splinter had made her bleed, made it impossible for her to forget and she was grateful for it. and even in her anger, in her absolute rage at herself for falling so easily back into their sick games, she can’t help but revel in the sweet suffering he so willingly offers. it’s the first time in months that she can pretend, that she can imagine she’s someone else, that she’s someone he wants again and she’ll lose herself in it for as long as she can. his breath on her neck is hot and her eyes flutter closed in an attempt to prolong these limited moments, to pretend that it’ll last forever. her fingers curl into his hair and she can see it in her mind’s eye, see the life she so wishes she could have. two equals sitting regally on twin thrones, their hands clasped between them as they hold court. her eyes find his and neither of them speak, as they’re so attuned to one another that there’s no need for words. the edges were frayed, torn and jagged as she knew it was nothing but a hopeless fancy. he didn’t think of her as his equal, that much he’d made abundantly clear, and she was foolish to bother hoping he’d respect her as she expected everyone else to. even now, with his fingers inside of her and his lips brushing her collarbone, he was still her dominant, still holding himself above her both in position and mentality. her eyes open, then, as her impending arousal escapes her reach, no longer distracting enough to keep her from her unpleasant musings, but enough to keep her breathing erratic.

she doesn’t look at him, ashamed that she allowed herself to feel like less than she knows she is, frustrated that it’s more of the same cycle of emotion she’d thought she’d abandoned. she’d spent so much time hardening her heart, desensitizing herself to the constant patronizing of parliament and proving her worth as a monarch, and what did she have to show for it now? not fifteen minutes after he arrived, she’d thrown herself at him as if she were starving for him, as if she were still the naive, desperate wraith she’d been last they’d spoken. surely he’d seen the weakness in her actions, preyed upon it as she knew he was more than capable of. how recklessly she’d given him her body, how stupidly she still wished he’d take her heart as well. she thought of how different it would be if he’d approached her first, if he’d been the one to show his hand, to admit defeat. it wasn’t an easy thing to picture, as she couldn’t recall him ever exposing any vulnerable inch of himself to her, to anyone. inwardly scowling, she figured the only silver lining was that the mexican tart had gotten even less of him than she did. it had to be enough, she’d told herself all those months ago, to know that she’d held his fickle affections longer than anyone ever had before. she’d prided herself knowing that it was her he thought of when he was on his own, that he recalled the feel of her skin and the taste of her tongue when he closed his eyes. it had to be enough, she’d told herself, even though she knew it never would be. not when she hadn’t even looked at anyone else since they met. not when she saw him everywhere she looked. not when she knew he didn’t love her. no, she’d been silly to think it was enough that he only wanted the idea of her. all her life she’d been hungry for affection, nothing ever able to fill her appetite. she’d gorged herself on physical adoration, became almost gluttonous in her pursuit of it, but it was an empty victory every time, the sated feeling never lasting long before she craved even more than before. but everything changed after she spent a long weekend with the portuguese prince, the hunger almost manageable in the aftermath. she’d woken before him the final morning, lying underneath his arm silent surprise as she realized how.. almost full her chest felt. maybe it was his weight or maybe it was something else entirely, but she found herself addicted to it, addicted to the feeling only he could deliver. it was wonderful, at least for a while, lazy, even. she’d take and take and take from him until she was glutted and she’d offer the excess back to him with the coy tilt of her smile and a glint of mischief in her eye. but then she was promised to someone else and it became desperate, as if they needed to drain each other dry in hopes of it lasting them after they were forced apart. but she hadn’t realized he’d stopped giving until there was nothing left but cold indifference in his expression, until he’d long since been satiated. she’d been merely hungry before, but after that, she was starving, her chest hollow and stinging. she recalls those weeks with disgust and revulsion at the emaciated creature she’d let herself become. pity was a disease, especially when directed at oneself, and nikolette kardos would never let it take hold of her again. she was a queen now and she’d be damned if she wasn’t deserving of the respect that goes hand in hand with the title.

the sudden absence of his touch brings her back to the moment and she meets his eyes again, ready to protest before his mouth cuts off her words, searing and so completely different than any kiss she can remember from him. it’s not angry, not quick, not even anything more than a simple brush of his mouth along hers, as if time decided to stop just so it could last for one of those infinities she coveted. there’s something deliberate in even the angle of his jaw, in how he waits for her to part her lips for him. it steals her breath in the cliche way he seemed to have mastered at this point, leaving her chest heaving as her mind clouded with desire to more he teased something more than he was giving before. her eyes dance along his beautiful frame, committing every hill and valley to memory for when he’s gone again, until they follow every movement of his hands at his waist with rapt attention. she notes a slight tremble in his fingers and her lips part in surprise and confusion, her attention moving to his face again in question. not once has she ever seen him lose that tight hold on himself, not even when he was at his most unhinged had he ever given her any indication that he wasn’t completely in control. she sucked in a quick breath at the expression on his face, the crack in his facade fleeting, but most definitely there. silently, she reaches a hand to his face, brushing her thumb along the sharp edge of his cheekbone. stupid girl, she thinks to herself as she feels herself fall all over again, knowing there’s no possible way she’d ever recover from how terribly she loved him. a single moment of vulnerability is not enough, she tells herself, but she knows that there’s nothing to be done about the swelling in her chest, not now, not ever. her hand slides to the side of his neck and the dichotomy of the softness in his burning eyes to the sharp lines of his chest and the sheer solidity of him hovering over her is enough to drive her mad. her free arm lays loosely above her head and she waits with bated breath as he closes in on her again, his body heat warming her own and sending a shiver down her spine at the same time. she exhales deeply once he’s finally — finally — inside her, and her eyes close once again, her nails scraping lightly across his scalp. all her anger and her fear and her trepidation blurs into colorless background noise until all she can focus on is how right this feels.

valerio costa would have loved to believe that he had mastered the concept of delayed gratification, pretending that he was more than good at biding his time, at waiting for what he wanted in the hopes of reaping the benefits of practiced patience. he could play pretend and smile and breeze his way through days on end, could manage to school his true feelings and emotions so long as it wasn’t uncommon for him to lose track of his sense of self. but he was a fool, it seemed, to believe that he had any sort of mastery over the art of waiting. because while he could pull it off in certain scenarios, valerio knew that he was nothing more than a pathetic fraud when it came to nikolette kardos. he could never be patient when it came to her; he drowned himself in her encouraged indulgence and lapped hungrily at every drop of affection she spared him, hoping that if he held on long enough, or with a tight enough grip, he wouldn’t lose her. because with each meeting, or so it seemed between the two young monarchs, he could only feel that feral, wild desperation growing into something darker and uglier, the line between want and need blurred as each moment passed in her presence. the evolution of his emotions was a manifesting threat– a warning from his more rational self to stay away, to escape the girl made of razor-sharp smiles and cruel intent, the woman comprised of pure sin and devouring sensuality. the bleating chorus of his pulse reminded him as much as she moved in time with his touch, each shiver of her spine or tremor of her hips functioning to make desire unfurl itself deep within, red hot and sickly sweet. he can read every movement, can translate her body language with a startling quickness, so much so that he’s momentarily overwhelmed by the effect of her dizzying devastation. because no matter how much he liked to feign as if he possessed the upper hand, with every passing moment nikolette shared his space, he became more and more wrapped around her manicured finger, unwilling as he was thrilled to be lost in her once more.

he’s rendered speechless as nikolette’s breathing hitches in time with his own, mesmerization making him incapable of anything but watching her, documenting every single one of her movements. he could stay here forever, in the presence of her pleasure-parted lips, those blue eyes heavy with the arousal that surrounds them, thick with the air of the months-long tension that had blossomed in each other’s absence. and it’s as she speaks to him, her words dripping with nothing short of admiration and what he could only recognize as longing, that valerio realizes that he can’t hurt her. his heart, it seems, had stayed in her possession, and though she may never know it, and had remained intact. because he knows now that after all this time, every moment that he had spent waiting – every moment he had spent wanting – was far from wasted. he can feel it in the ripple of her body as she responds to his touch, can sense the truth as she stares him down, eyes still never leaving his. and as she tempts him, pulls him further and further into their downfall, he can no longer resist. it’s in her request for him to reveal his fantasy that he relinquishes his control, bidding farewell to his perception of resistance and instead allowing himself to indulge, as completely and sinfully as nikolette herself. if she was so willing a participant, valerio was more than happy to oblige, debauchery a language in which they had equal fluency. but before he could fully delve into the endless pool of desire that was the very essence of nikolette, he had to grant himself one selfish indulgence. as his language danced across her tongue, he felt the length of him stiffen, aching against the taut fabric of his pants as he revels in the feeling of having her here, ready and waiting in his lap. and he then pulls his touch away from her, his fingers not hesitating to tease over her sensitive skin as he did so, and brings them to his lips. his eyes stay locked with niko’s as his mouth parts, soft and red and slightly swollen from their kiss, and allows his fingers to slide against the flat pink of his tongue.

valerio’s eyelashes flutter the moment her taste dances along his tongue, his whole body seeming to flush in response to the vulgarity of it, of getting off on how good she tasted. he could wax poetic about what it does to him, how often he sought to lay her out before him and just ravage her for hours, licking her out so thoroughly that she knew nothing but his name and the soft brush of his tongue. it would be enough for him to spend the rest of his days like that, the soft skin of her thighs brushing against his ears, minute after minute, hour after hour, devouring her until she was nothing but a writhing mess, each climax coming quicker than the last. images of her back arched, lips parted, the thought of her moans evolving from quietly inhibited to raucously undiluted had his eyes closing completely, a guttural sound from someplace deep in his chest escaping him, the hum of it against his fingers as they slowly slipped from his mouth. his eyes only opened then, once he had her taste on his tongue, his lips. valerio couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop documenting every facet of her expression as she watches him, his lips curling into another smirk before he pulls her back in for another kiss. and this one, while still heatedly passionate, was a tease, a promise, as her tongue flicked against hers, soft brushes that told of exactly what he would do had he access to her second set of lips. and while he loves kissing her, he can no longer pretend he’s okay with waiting to finally swallow her whole, to devour her so completely that she would be unable to find her beginning or end without finding him there too. valerio’s hands slide against her skin, over the span of her thighs until they finally found purchase on her hips. his grip is strong enough to bruise, the underlying need for him to stake his claim coming out in unexpected ways, before he’s pulling her close to his chest and sliding his hands beneath her so he can grip her ass. it’s with impressive ease that he manages to stand without so much as a tremble, his muscles sound and unspent as he lifts her swiftly, drawing her close again to capture her in another kiss. this one’s softer than the others, sweet and slow, his tongue only a tease as he brushes their lips together over and over again, her taste still enough to have him dizzy.

and so valerio lays nikolette down right there, on the thick, lush carpet of the state room of his rival monarch, his fingertips twitching in anticipation of getting to really touch her. he finds a home between her legs as he peels off the clothing layering his torso, careful of the expensive fabric as he removes it with haste, undoing buttons with a practiced quickness as he sheds his shirt along with the suit jacket. he yearns to have nikolette’s touch against his bare skin, along the taut muscles of his back and the harsh cut of his hips disappearing into the waistline of his pants. he splays a hand against the flat of nikolette’s stomach as his free fingers work to remove the rest of her clothes and her shoes, desperate to have her bare beneath him, so he could have her completely. his fingertips dance along her legs as he finally discards the rest of her clothing, slowing only as he touches over her thighs, and stopping completely as he gets to where he can practically feel the heat between them. he parts her legs, before propping himself up on one hand beside her, their faces only inches apart. valerio chances running one finger along her skin, and a small hiss elicits between his lips as his breathing quickens in the slightest at just how wet she’s gotten in these last few minutes. his touch is slow, grazing, before he finally slides a finger back inside her, dragging it once, twice, three times before he’s pulling out of her completely. the next few things happen very fast and all at once; valerio’s lowering his lips right where nikolette’s neck meets her shoulder, his teeth harsh against her soft skin as he slides not two, but three fingers inside of her. he hasn’t even taken two breaths before he’s knuckle-deep, the pad of his thumb finding that place in which he was terribly familiar at the apex of her thighs, soft and sensitive to the weight of his touch. he gives nikolette only a few moments to adjust before his fingers fuck her deep and so, so slow, hard enough that he presses soft kisses along her clavicle and over her breasts to placate her, to contrast the sharp mix of pain and pleasure caused by his fingers with the soft, loving reassurances each kiss possesses. he places one last kiss to her lips before he rises, resting back on his haunches as he begins to quirk his wrist, a quiet, powerful focus emanating from him as his hand slides along her chest, fingers teasing at niko’s perked nipple beneath the lacy confines of her erotic lingerie before his hand finds it’s target. he rests is on her hip for a moment, before sliding it to her thigh and spreading her legs as wide as they’ll go, his thumb relentless against her as each thrust of his fingers becomes rougher and deeper than the last. ‘i want you tell me, niko,’ he breathes, the first time he’s spoken in what feels like hours. ‘tell me how much you need me.’ another filthy, thorough kiss, and he’s right above her, one hand still spreading her legs wide, the other working tirelessly against her body, the telltale sound of her body’s arousal causing something dangerously feral inside of him to stir.

nikolette had never thought much of the baroque, often seemingly empty words in which poets used to describe their emotions, but it was in every heated glance, every cherishing caress from valerio that she thought that maybe they weren’t as foolish as she’d first thought. she hadn’t believed in affection beyond the physical, beyond that of which could be taken and given with one simple touch. she had barred herself from fanciful notions, shunned even the idea that they could apply to her. she’d seen far too often the hearts of people she knew get thrown about haphazardly, the fickle, hollow endearments exchanged leaving a horrible ringing in her ears. love was a lie, she’d thought, useless in it’s complete idiocy. but then he’d thrown every misconception she had to the floor, smirking as he stole her heart from her chest. it had terrified her, frozen the blood in her veins as he so casually carried it with him, taunting her at every turn how terribly he owned her. but he hadn’t mistreated it, not completely. sure, he’d squeezed it, held it so tightly she was sure it would burst in his palm, but even when she was sure she could no longer take the pain of his grip, he held it close to him, keeping it from shattering completely. it took her some time to come to terms with the glaring truth that valerio knew she was made of sterner stuff than she realized. he’d known that her heart was no tender thing, not so easily crushed. and sure, it was cruel to test its limitations, but he’d known no one had the power to break her, not even him. her strength was in her resilience, in her refusal to even bend when told to break. and even now she knows he still holds it, knows that no longer is it a part of her he took, but one she’d offered him. and she knows that his belongs to her, knows that she’d torn his from his chest at the same moment he’d taken hers. she’d left claw marks on his skin that only she could see, jagged, hungry scars that made her chest seize. she can see it in the haze of lust in his eyes and in the ferocity in the way he gripped her — as if she’ll never be close enough.

and she understood him, knew only too well the desperation, the complete and utter aching to hold someone so close that your edges blur together, colors bleeding into each other until you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. she wants to consume him, wants him to possess her until there’s nothing left of their of them without the other, until only the memory of them together is all that remains. she loved him, but the word seemed empty, too trivial to fully express the weight of the emotion inside of her. it seemed silly, now, that she’d been so afraid to use it before, to call it what it was when now they’d gone so far beyond it. no, she didn’t love him if to love was simply to cherish, simply to care for, simply to adore. she only loved him if to love was to embody, to devour, to devastate. and she knew he loved her the same — the knowledge giving her more power than she ever thought possible. he loved her and she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it before. for someone who prided herself so highly on her ability to read people, to read valerio, she felt a sort of vexation for being too distracted by his smokescreen to see the truth behind it. he loved her to ruins and it was the most wonderful feeling. he proved it wit every flicker of his eyes as they’re trained on hers, their depth never ceasing to overwhelm her completely; she’s lost once again and she’d be more than happy never to be found again. he proves it with every deliberately delicate brush of his fingers on her skin, every small movement, every minute deepening of his touch tugging her nerves into action, electricity dancing beneath her skin. never had she shivered so much in a warm room than when valerio’s hands worked her as only they could. he proved it as she felt him harden beneath her, the air in her chest catching at the slight friction she’d yearned for.

she watched him as he moved his hand from her body to his mouth, feeling empty at the loss of his fingers after so long, only for him to promise her exactly hat she desired without even a word. every cell in her body shuddered as his lips wrapped around her taste on his fingers. his eyelashes cast spidery, dancing shadows on his cheeks as they flutter to a close and she feels as if she’s caught fire. she couldn’t form a single coherent thought without the image of him  between her thighs, be it his long fingers or that wicked mouth, she found herself devastated and so terribly desperate for him. she shifted in his lap, her hips flush against his, her breath stuttering in her chest and her fingers curling into his hair. she could lie with him for hours, days, weeks and never tire of the feel of him, never tire of both being devoured and doing the devouring. she wanted him in the most feral of ways, wanted every inch of his body, his mind his soul and she was growing impatient. when his eyes opened again, scorching in their lust and desire, she swore he’d never looked at her the same. there was knowledge now, rather than the questions that used to swim there. he knew how absolutely he owned her and, impossibly, she found herself falling deeper into the bottomless recess of her devotion to him. a soft, desperate sound escaped her throat as he kissed her again, her taste on his tongue enough to make her see stars, the obscenity eliciting her hips to move of their own accord even as his fingers gripped hard enough that she’d gladly wear the evidence of his touch on her skin as long as the bruises lingered. and he lifted her, solidifying himself as her anchor, her only sense of gravity keeping her from floating away completely. his lips may have softened, leaving small, tender promises on her mouth, but his grip told another story all together. she doesn’t have time to lock her legs around him before her back makes contact with the hideous, plush carpeting, her hair fanning across the garish reminder of her gilded cage.

as his native tongue is used against him, realization sparks in valerio’s mind that while he may have been under the impression she had long dismissed the words of his country, he was stupidly wrong. even in his absence, it seemed, she still knew exactly what to say, her inflection and pronunciation as perfect as ever, perfect enough that had he ever happened upon the chance to bring her home, to introduce her to his mother and father, they would have been glowing with pride at their son’s choice. because while valerio was an addict in need of a fix that was entirely ensconced in nikolette’s being, his multi-faceted feelings for her only strengthened when considering the alternate reality of her being a part of his life, of his reign. she would fit right in, right by his side, and they’d be a couple worthy of jealousy from all the other young monarchs, an example set by their timelessness and elegance. he could imagine it so easily, summoning it to his mind so willingly that he felt that pang of pity towards himself as he realized the true depth to his pining. he decided, instead, to refocus his attention, to yet again breach the subject of england’s darling king. ‘legally binding? that’s sweet, truly, but i think bennett is more than aware that i have exactly little to absolutely no interest in hearing any of his requests. my participation in this delegation is merely to be polite.’ he shrugged again, his temper thrumming through him like live, raucous energy, and valerio worked to quell it before he spoke once more. ‘as it is, i had no intention of being a part of any sort of … alliance. unfortunately, my coronation didn’t eradicate my lack of trust for a certain british potentate.’ he allowed the words to settle in the space between them, meaningful if not foreboding, and again found himself lost in the intensity of her stare, of the cruel, playful smile that curled her pink lips. it took less than a moment for him to realize that she was playing with him right back, a coy coquette, all soft murmurs and simpering sidelong glances. he had always known how insatiable nikolette was, and it was with a sense of caution that he proceeded, eyes managing not to stray for even a breath. he watched her with the knowledge of his proposition, knowing that the wild, ravenous nature of the girl he loved with such desperation could only remain at bay for so long. where valerio could at least feign patience in regards to the queen, her majesty had never been skilled in maintaining pretenses when it came to valerio. she was always playing directly into his game, their role of cat or mouse always up for question as they went back and forth, equal players in the game of reckless desire.

nikolette’s gaze didn’t waver, not in the slightest, as the sound of her steps echoed through the vastness of the state room. their eyes stayed trained on the other, and he could see the flames of want kindling behind the blue of her irises, a stifling heat radiating around her being as she approached. and fuck, he wanted to drown in it, wanted to give her his last breath as she ruined him once and for all. because the moment she was within his reach, the itch of his fingertips became an ache, and he felt drunk with how much he wanted – no, needed – to touch her. his mouth watered at the sight of her so close, at the heat of her body and the scent of her perfume, trapping him inescapably in his living fantasy. he focused on keeping his breath even as she devoured him with each assessment of her blue eyes, his hands still in place as she offered herself to him, all hints of coyness gone from her expression as she drew closer, her lips only inches from his own, her skin warm where she placed his touch against her abdomen. and it’s as they touch, for the first time in what felt like fucking years, that the frenzy begins. his veins crackled with an undiluted lechery, valerio’s need to claim suddenly suffocating, his mind barreling forward as he tried to school the possessiveness within. he released a shaky breath, the only sign of his weakness thus far, and clenched his jaw as the question in her words gave him the green light to proceed as he pleased. and just like before, just like every other time they had done this, he didn’t need to be told twice. instead, valerio heeded her plea and slid his touch along her skin, ring-clad fingers gripping the thin fabric. for a moment, he weighed the pros and cons of his sudden idea, and threw caution to the wind as the sound of that same fabric tearing fills the room.

it’s with the knowledge that the garment was easily replaceable that he continued without reservation. he slid his hand along her skin, the large span of his fingers against the small of her back as he pulled her closer, his lips brushing against hers in a half-kiss before he pulled away again, making his way down her chest. but he didn’t plant kisses, no – instead, he reminded himself of what he had been missing, the taste that had him feeling more and more drunk crowding his senses as he ran his tongue along her skin, along the dip between her breasts until he was at her clavicle. with a slight nip of his teeth he continued to taste and taste, the tip of his tongue trailing up the curve of her neck, and he stopped, then, to whisper directly in her ear, his teeth catching on her earlobe as the words left his lips. ‘i want you so loud,’ he began, his voice thick with the arousal that was causing heat to bloom across his skin, ‘that this whole castle knows who you really belong to.’ his teeth graze her neck again, harsher, greedier, before he’s pulling her into a kiss. it’s desperate, unyielding, and so unlike the kisses they usually share – short, meaningless, only a part of the game they had gotten so good at playing. val kissed her like his life depended on it, kissed her like he knew he might not again get the chance to. he parted her lips with his own and made quick work of kissing her hard and deep, thorough enough that he felt the dizzying high of her presence within moments of their lips touching. it took less than a minute for it not to be enough, for him to want more more more, and he’s using the hand free from holding her close to dance along the lace exposed by the lowered zipper of her pants, to tease as he nipped at her lip next, waiting for her to elicit that beautiful sound of her pained pleasure. because he knew her, knew her better than he knew himself, and it was fucking terrifying, being here, so close to the edge of their mutual destruction as they indulged in the danger of each other, that he realized how much he loved her. he loved her, loved her so much it made him feel sick, loved her so pathetically that he had let her go. but as he kissed her, he knew he couldn’t lose her. not again.

valerio pulled away as those thoughts flash across his mind, deafening in their truth. his breath is labored as it leaves him, and he finally allowed his touch to disappear beneath the waistline of her panties. and, without any shame in his vulgarity, he fucking moans the moment his fingers touch her, when he realizes just how wet she is, his desire uncoiling throughout his body like a snake in the sun. ‘this is all i think about,’ he admits to her and her only, his voice shaky with the adoration he possessed, a finger pushing into her the moment he confesses, ‘you’re all i ever fucking thinking about.’ 

she had tunnel vision int hat everything but the sight of him in front of her blurred into a shapeless, colorless nothing the closer they came to one another. she knew how easy it was to lose herself in it, in him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. there was no one but the two of them, nothing but the pressure of his fingers on her skin, of the smell of him overwhelming her to the point that her eyes fluttered closed against the haziness that threatened to drag her under. it seemed as if the time they’d spent apart had only left her skin too sensitive, her mind too unguarded, her entire being too desperate to feel him again that she fell in before she could even begin to try and catch herself. her mind flooded with memories of his breath hot on her mouth, his heart pounding beneath her curled fingers, the wonderful sense of being finally, finally filled and overflowing as he took her. she remembered every time he touched her, every errant brush of his fingers on her flesh, every moment his eyes scorched patterns into her with a simple gaze. it was maddening the way just his proximity could summon every wonderful memory she had of him, every single emotion he had caused to tear through her without warning or remorse. she imagine how it could be to have this all the time, to feel so much every time she saw him, imagined how completely and unapologetically overpowering his presence was. it would hurt, she knew, but she craved the pain, yearned to feel everything she’d been deprived of for so long, but only so long as it was by his hand. she’d known long ago that he was the only one capable of satiating the beast inside of her, of making her suffer the glorious burden of completion that none other had even drawn near to in all her searching. it was a fantasy, she knew, and yet she found herself aching for it to be her reality, coveting the sight of him at every waking moment of the day, the knowledge that he’d never stray, never look to another. she wanted him in his entirety more than she’d ever wanted anything else, needed him never to stop touching her, worshiping her, assuring her that she was alive. the sharp reminder of the truth throbbed through her, reminding her that he would never be who she wanted him to be, not completely. she felt weak in admitting it, even if only to herself, but she wanted the only thing from him that she couldn’t imagine him possessing — she wanted him to love her, to want her and no one else for the rest of their lives. she wanted a constant companion through the trials and tribulations that she was sure were only beginning to show their difficulty, someone for her to rely on and someone to rely on her.

but even her actions in this moment prove how fruitless it is to desire the impossible. his lust was a living, breathing thing threatening to swallow her whole. and she couldn’t deny how tempting the idea was, how desperately she wanted him to do just that. his words faded in her mind and she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was they had been discussing before his fingers dragged so softly across her stomach to the hem of her shirt, only to  rip the flimsy cotton from her body, the fabric surely leaving delicious angry marks on the soft skin of her back. he’d discarded the remnants of her shirt without a second thought, the fingers she loved so terribly digging in so wondrously as he pulled her flush against him, every nerve in her body igniting with each minute movement he made. the briefest of kisses had her breath stuttering out of her chest, her heart stopping and fluttering violently as he tasted her skin. the air couldn’t be below seventy in the room, but it was icy in the wake of his tongue, leaving her shivering against the feeling. her fingers wound into his hair, holding him to her as her body shuddered in his grip. his words, though, sent a flash of heat through her body, warming her from her head to her toes as she breathed out a ragged, if somewhat choked laugh. she hadn’t any trouble vocalizing her pleasure, as he well knew, but she’d never been one to give in so easily. if his labored breathing was any indication, she knew that she wouldn’t be the only one crying out in their ecstasy. “ oh? talvez eu faça você gritar. deixe cada homem, mulher e criança saber exatamente o que eu faço a você, meu rei. ” her words were thick, dripping in passion and eroticism, layered with promise of doing just that. she hadn’t the time to take in a breath before his lips molded into hers, but the ache in her lungs was welcome. she knew immediately that this was different, that something had changed in that he kissed her as if he were starving for it, as if he were a dying man willing to do all in his power to possess the only remedy to his weakness. he took and took and took from her, feeding off of her and yet reviving her in the same moment, the dichotomy sending her mind reeling. he tasted her, claimed her, possessed her in a way he’d never done before and it was wonderful. she gave him all she could, returning his passion with intensity of her own, fingers tugging at the silken locks of his hair as if she were incapable of getting him close enough.

she was going to eat him alive.

she gasped for breath the moment he released her mouth, only to lose it all the second his fingers made contact with her most sensitive flesh. she bit back a moan buried deep in her throat, her muscles contracting at the pressure. it was both familiar and not, the way he manager to have her in the exact moment where she would do anything for him, be anyone for him. her left hand dropped to his shoulder, her fingers digging into the expensive material of his jacket, hoping he could feel just how intense a single brush of his finger affected her. god, she couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t possibly ever be satisfied with only the bits and pieces of him she could collect on the outskirts of her life. not now, not ever, not after he reminded her of why it was he was the one person in her life she could admit to loving, to having no ulterior motive for wanting by her side. the things she loved had such a tendency to crumble, but she knew valerio was made of stronger stuff, knew he would not easily crack under the pressures that came along with her devotion. and she found herself to be terribly foolish to have ever imagined that her people were more important to her than he was. she would relinquish everything she had, everything she was if only for the smallest of reassurances that he would be there with her. she feels the hot tears pushing at the backs of her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks, but she denies them, refuses to let him see her weak in this moment. his touch is addicting, a drug she hadn’t known she’d become so awfully dependent on until it was out of her reach. she was weak, relapsing the first chance she got, but it was the most wonderful high. her body shudders as his fingers tease her, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his skilled and masterful fingers cause a tightening in her gut. the deep, guttural sound that escapes his chest entices a whimper from her, waves of pleasure coursing softly through her. she was slowly approaching that cliff’s edge she knew she’d likely meet many times in the time to come and it stole the breath from her lungs.

for the majority of his time spent away from her, valerio didn’t often allow himself to think about how things would change if things had wound up different between the two of them. he tried not to think about it, what it had been like to spend endless amounts of time with her, trapped in the personal hell that was catherine palace. he resented the memories of them having the chance to be together, and wasting it so spectacularly, due to his cowardice and her stubbornness, their inability to share how they truly felt stifling their potential to the point of suffocation so that it withered, so that it died. it was something that he couldn’t help but resent as he realized just how painful it was now, the reminiscent air of their self-sabotage making him feel breathless with the weight of his missteps. but he schooled his expression, didn’t allow himself to seem at all phased by her presence, his mischievous smirk still visible as if it was pinned in place on his features. he schooled it because he knew that at this point there was no other option than to play pretend, to act like the mere sight of her didn’t have him rethinking everything he had ever done, unsettling him in a way that made him realize just how pathetic his existence had been without her. and valerio had gotten so good at pretending, had mastered the part of masquerading through every day, acting as if nothing he did mattered, that everything but the state of his country didn’t possess any importance. because it didn’t. since his coronation, since the day that he sealed his fate as portugal’s reigning monarch, he realized that lying and pretending would be what his future consisted of. and it was as the crown was placed atop those soft tufts that he realized that he had to accept it, regardless of how he felt. it was permanent, this change.  

his perfect simper momentarily faltered at her words, at the mention of the long forgotten king. he hadn’t even paid the other male a passing thought since she had walked into the room, distracting him indefinitely and drawing his attention to … subjects that didn’t involve bennett darby in the slightest. so he allowed the expression to dissolve into a grimace at the male’s name, one that crumpled his refined features in a frown that was almost as beautiful as his smile. he wore disappointment and distaste as easily as he wore mischief and delight; that much was apparent as he wiped it from his expression completely, letting the small fissure in his mood be forgotten as his features returned to a perfect calm. he kept perfect control over his emotions as he let the light that had ignited behind his eyes extinguish, wisps of his earlier amusement gone as he closes himself off at his words. instead, he lets his accent drip around the words as he speaks them, his lips not even attempting to tug into a half-hearted smile. ‘i think it’s safe for you to assume by now, nikolette, that time spent with you is never time wasted.’ he says it with a pleasant, diplomatic lilt to his tone, says it in a way where he could have easily been discussing the weather, or what he may have for dinner that evening. but the words hold heat, possess a weight that makes his fingertips twitch. ‘as for your darling husband, i think it’s sweet that he has you under the impression that his shit-for-brains self is capable of conducting international relations in any way.’ his shrug is easy, casual, as if he was brushing off a compliment and feigning humility. funny, truly, as he had been one of the most vain to reside within the walls of catherine palace. ‘but i appreciate you passing along the message, your majesty. i truly do.’ he adopts disinterest then as he peers at his fingernails, speaking to his guards in fluent portugese, quick enough to hopefully slip nikolette’s attention with the knowledge that it was probably a rusty dialect due to their time apart. they quickly bow, deep and purposeful, before swiftly leaving the room. the silence left in their wake was shattered by valerio’s voice once more as he redirected his attention back to nikolette.

‘however,’ he says, once again claiming the seat to survey the woman before him. the longer he looked at her, the longer he couldn’t avert his attention from her lips. soft, pink, slightly bitten like she had been worrying it, and he felt the desire roil through him, so much so that he had to clench his fist to channel it, to focus the energy to a focal point. ‘…i don’t think it’s fair to assume that i don’t enjoy your company.’ his eyes are still surveying, predatory as his pupils dilate with lust at the mere sight of her. ‘i’ve always rather enjoyed it.’ he clicked his tongue in thought as he tore his gaze away, settling to instead glare at the tacky decor with an unmasked distaste, though he continued speaking. ‘i didn’t expect to see you today.’ he purposefully continues not to look at her as he confesses it, resting his chin on his clenched fist as he peers at what seems to be empty space. ‘i meant it, you know.’ valerio adjusts his position is his seat, trying to become more comfortable, and spreads his legs a little wider than what could be deemed innocent, the implication of the guards’ dismissal written between the lies of his words. he chooses that moment to be meet her eyes again, finally, holding her stare with a newfound determination. ‘you do look exquisite. it’s a shame, really, that you’re newly married.’ his head cocks to the side, his eyes as piercing as her blue ones. ‘it almost feels like old times,’ he murmurs, loud enough for just her to hear, ‘save for the part where you’re across the room, of course. your perch in my lap was, and is, much more preferable than your current one.’

despite the events of the past few months, it’s a very well known fact that nikolette kardos is not one to lose at the games she plays. she’s left many a lord and lady pining in the wake of the petty and amusing schemes she so expertly crafted. she’d brought men to their knees at her whim solely for the sake of doing so, coaxed pleas from the lips of lovers both in pleasure and desperation to which she’d merely present a coquettish tilt of her mouth, hardly moved by their attempts to sway her to their desires. she had seemingly met her match when the prince of portugal sauntered into her life, turning her selfish methods on her in the most delicious way, the ebb and flow similar to that of a summer storm. there was real give and take, true equal footing until nikolette found herself in the middle of something she hadn’t expected before she even knew she’d begun. it derailed her, the imbalances in her emotions set her staggering through an unwinnable situation, leaving her to lose not only her self-assurance but the one person who’d she’d thought would be the one to finally feed the insatiable hunger in her. and yet, she found herself before him once again, the game not as finished as she’d originally assumed. his words were carefully calculated, that much had always been obvious, though still he succeeded in keeping her guessing as to his reactions and motivations. win or lose, she knew valerio costa — his mannerisms, his likes and dislikes, how easily it was for him to don a mask she’d undoubtedly wear as well. the man before her, though, had evolved beyond the feral one she’d wanted so terribly to ravish her every inch. he was much more complex than before, which in itself was a feat. the beast hadn’t been eradicated, hadn’t been tamed; he was hiding beneath the pretenses, prowling until he was ready to strike. it sent a chill down her spine, the prospect that she was the one thing in the room it was more than familiar with. and when she became the only thing in the room to hold the animal’s attention, her pulse spiked in her veins. she felt hunted, as if she’d suddenly become the prey, just waiting to be devoured. but she was a predator and it would do them both well to remember. her eyes blazed, blue flame crackling behind her lashes as she blinked slowly, injecting her gaze with the smoldering desire inside of her as if to communicate that she was no one’s victim, not even valerio costa’s. she would consume him, be it in five minutes or five millennia, everything that he was would be hers for the taking.

“ não estou desiludido, valerio. i am very well aware of bennett’s political state-of-mind, seeing as how i, too, was raised to rule, lest you forget. i was only implying that both he and i would be required to be present during any and all negotiations for anything to be legally binding. ” it was a relatively new law, seeing as how both parties were granted respect in their position of power, but she’d found it to be a nuisance more often than not. except, of course, that she was now left with no business to discuss with valerio, much to her chagrin and excitement. her eyes narrowed on him as he made himself comfortable in the overly decadent upholstery, his intent stare trained on the swell of her bottom lip. her heartbeat pounded beneath her breast and she breathed deeply to keep her lungs from bursting in their attempt to hold in the air. and when the brown blackened so deeply that she couldn’t tell the iris from the pupil, she found that lip trapped between her teeth again. the intimacy of the moment was not lost upon her as she swallowed her desire, holding her lust at bay until her mind was less muddled. besides, it was absurd for him to bother trying to feed her such dirty little compliments this late in their game as if he were still in the business of attempting to lead her to believe ridiculous fancies she hadn’t known she’d been starving for. and yet, the tension in the room thickened, hummed as she caressed the chord tugging them together. her eyes zeroed in on his fist, his knuckles bleached in the grip he held on empty air, only to snap to his eyes as he continued speaking, a humorless smile curling the corners of her lips. “ is that so? ” she noted the distaste in the minute curl of his lip as his eyes devoured every garish inch of the room once again. she could hardly blame him for the disdain, however, seeing that she despised nearly every inch of the palace in all it’s violent grandeur. she quirked a brow, wondering why he didn’t expect to see her in the place that she lived, but she didn’t comment on it. blue eyes follow every twitch of his muscles as he adjusts his position, not missing the blatant invitation in his posture before he even opens his mouth. for a moment, she finds herself wondering why he assumed anything would happen the first second they’re alone, but then their eyes meet and she can’t understand how she’d managed to stay rooted to her spot even this long. of course, until his voice cuts through the haze beginning to form in her brain, leaving them both smirking at each other across the room. it’s almost funny how familiar his tone is, how even the words he spoke sounded like a song she’d long since memorized the lyrics to.

she looked different, but also the same. valerio could remember the last time he saw her, flesh and blood, standing before him, and the memory was enough to leave his hands slick with perspiration, a nervous, cold sweat breaking out across his skin. it had been the last day at catherine palace, all the royals with their luggage and mutually destroyed relationships in tow as they started the slow process of each individual departure. the television show had ended swiftly, the studio pulling the plug as the more – well, the more desired royals stopped abiding by their contracts in preference of staying locked away in their rooms or away from the palace entirely. within those walls bred a kind of dark despair, one that was like a tangible sickness, a plague that spread slowly over the polished floors and beneath the cracks of ornate doors, slowly poisoning the spirits of the young royals, the same individuals who had once been rosy cheeked and starry eyed over the idea of fame and power. the reality of what it meant to rule was a bleak, unfriendly truth that they all discovered eventually, and it was disheartening enough to have to endure that, without being put under a microscope with every move, every breath seemingly monitored. he had seen her last then, when she was tucked away into a limousine with none other than her current husband, the reigning king, and gave him no less than a parting glare. and as the stretch pulled away, the cameras all angled away from him and aimed towards their departure, he was glad. glad, then, that the whole world hadn’t seen as devastation rippled over his expression for the briefest of moments. glad, because for all the trouble his heart had been, he was glad to see it leave with her.

that same devastation is lingering somewhere in that vacant part of his chest, a wisp of shadowy smoke that curls around his bones, one that teases and taunts him, scolds him for being so foolish. for being foolish enough to let her walk away unknowing after all they’d experienced, after all they’d endured. and he allowed it in, didn’t even try to soothe the ache that had managed to metastasize throughout his being, the pain of missing her leaking into his pining soul. it’s stifling, valerio realizes, as he adjusts the elegantly simple circlet perched in the silky tousles of his brown hair, perfectly styled and arranged in a slight wave, the soft shimmer of the gold offset by glittering diamonds and deep sapphires that still managed to gleam in the soft, wan light that poured in through the windows. it fucking suffocates him when he looks at her, really looks at her, for the first time in months. he started with the outfit, the sleek black material that seem painted onto her body, on each and every curve that used to be his salvation. he could feel the twitch in his fingertips, the stiffness in his bones as his eyes trailed over her form, ravenously, like it might be the last time he would ever see her. val feels lucky, then, that he saw her save of the dresses that bennett had been parading her around in, as his wife, his queen. it made a roiling anger crash over him, one that was burning and putrid, hues of red fogging his vision as the reminder of their marriage struck him deep, the resulting pain more treacherous than any damage a weapon could inflict. and it’s as his eyes sweep over her countenance that he’s dumbstruck. she’s as beautiful as ever, still able to bring a man to his knees with one keen look. her hair fans around her face, long and auburn, seeming to be frozen in a permanent flawlessness around her face. his eyes travel along her neck next, the ivory column in which he had always desperately desired to mark, the span of skin that he wanted to bruise and claim in the hopes of drawing the attention of the world to her, to remind them that she was his. and then her chin, her jaw, her cheekbones – all so much sharper than he remembered, sharp enough to slice through his reservations and his resilience, sharp enough to make him wonder about the care nikolette had been placing into herself. if she had been at all. it registers, then, what that the black body suit is meant for. anger is bleating through him, pulsing through his veins as he recognizes the cry for help masked with her reckless indulgence.

valerio saves her eyes for last, skipping over her lips in the hope that he would be able to maintain some feasible amount of control. and he meets the blue with his own, the blue so piercing and vibrant it reminds him of the sea back home, of the ice that had been in his veins until her presence melted it. until her mere existence was enough to make him feel something, to feel everything again in a span of seconds when these last months without her had been an emotional wasteland, a holocaust of everything he had ever felt. she was able to evoke anything from him in it’s rawest form, from unadulterated pleasure to boiling anger – and he could cry with the relief he felt, the knee-buckling realization that she was still the person who had that hold on him. and she always will. valerio’s gaze didn’t waver as their eyes stayed locked on each other.

‘the pleasure is all mine, rainha.’ he said, his accent surrounding the syllables of the word as he dropped into another bow, this one much more exaggerated than the first. as he rose, he met her eyes again, the telltale smirk of his majesty finding a home on his full lips. better to pretend. it’s what they did since the beginning. valerio didn’t have the strength to be honest, open, when rejection was imminent now than it had ever been. ‘you look…’ he says, taking a breath, eyes grazing her form once more, steeling himself and trying to not sound so pathetically in awe of her beauty, however it may have dulled in this forsaken, gloomy excuse for a palace. ‘…exquisite.’

it seemed to be a pattern in that nikolette found her thoughts and feelings scattered as far as valerio costa was concerned. she hadn’t realized how deeply she’d fallen until she was drowning in every word he spoke, in every insignificant brush of his fingertips over her skin. she hadn’t recognized the emotion that had ripped through her, the calamitous wave that valerio had stirred inside of her over the years until she lost it. she’d thought she’d been the smart one, thought she’d known what she was doing, what she was signing up for, but she was the one who found herself losing the game she’d begun. she’d gotten so comfortable, let herself get too vulnerable and she was paying for it with every kiss bennett placed on her cheek, with every day she spent pretending to be the happiest of wives to a man she could hardly stand to look at. and she figured she deserved everything that came her way — she wasn’t exactly blameless in the catastrophe that occurred between the two of them, and hindsight is profoundly clear. she remembered the last she saw of him, though she knew he hadn’t seen her there, as was her preference. he’d been so regal, so impossibly out of reach as the crown was placed on his head, as the jewels glittered in the rainbow of light shining through the stained glass behind him. it had been as if he were deified, the gold of the setting sun casting an otherworldly halo about his head, his subjects sinking to the floor in reverence for their new king. shadows cast over his features so dignified and sculpted that she found it hard to breathe. it was then, as he became the reigning monarch of portugal that she knew that no matter how terribly he’d hurt her, she would always find herself at his mercy, that she’d sacrifice everything she was for him if he’d only ask. she’d ducked her head the moment she saw his eyes pass over the assembled crowd, refused to allow her eyes to meet his, knowing that doing so would not be in ether of their best interests. and yet, as she gazed at him, she found herself feeling so extraordinarily foolish for ever thinking that her memories would be enough, ever capture all of him as he stood not ten feet from her.

she allowed her eyes to appraise him as they had months before, noting the small differences in his appearance. it was as if she was seeing someone she knew before they’d finished becoming who it was they were supposed to be. his jaw was freshly shaven to the point where she imagined she wouldn’t recognize the feeling should she run her fingers along the skin there. his hair was shorter as well and styled so elegantly that all she wanted to do was run her fingers through it, to destroy the semblance of calm and control he exuded. he’d always held himself as if he was the most important person in the room, but it was clear in the set of his shoulders that he truly was, no matter whether the other occupants were commoners or ancient gods. the more she observed, the less she recognized him. the hands that had once ripped the fabric from her body were clasped casually behind his back, the ferocity was missing from the depths of his gaze, there was nothing insatiable in the man she stood before, nothing wild or feral in the terrible calm that had seized him. she mourned the man he’d been during their tryst, internally wept for the beast she’d so gladly surrendered herself to, and yet still she loved him. she loved the maturity, the tranquility in the way he observed her, the smooth, velvet of his voice as it caressed the words he spoke. she wished he’d say her name, if only to hear the differences in intonation for another aspect of him to miss. she wasn’t sure what he was looking for in his scrutinizing gaze, but she knew that if he was searching for the girl he’d last seen he wouldn’t find her. nikolette had long since refused to allow the sadness to seize her so completely as it had when they were in russia and she didn’t care who it was he’d find should he search her ong enough. her eyes follow the movement of his hands into his hair, adjusting the golden circlet that seemed to attract and reflect all the light in the room — she noted silently that she much preferred it to the gaudy jeweled monstrosity that bennett wore whenever they held court. it made a small smile lift the corner of her mouth that he managed to do exactly to his hair as she had wanted not moments before.

it had been so long since she’d felt a single thing that it was as if she’d been given whiplash with the sudden onslaught of emotion that slammed through her — anger, sorrow, adoration, exasperation, terror, longing... she swallowed against the tightening of her throat as he bowed again, the small reprieve from his gaze giving her an opportunity to mask the crumbling of her brow. her breath caught as he smirked at her and she found herself reeling once again. oh, how wrong she’d been. how silly to think the animal had lost to the man, to think that this was anything but another game. and she would play, no matter the cost she knew she’d pay at the end. so she offered a coy smile and a raise of her brow at his words, pretending that her knees hadn’t turned completely incapable of holding her weight. “ you didn’t answer my question. ”

the flight had gone by slowly, each moment dull as valerio stared out of the window, peering down into the endless clouds that kissed and whispered against the underside of the plane as it glided in almost-silence towards london. he had been stoic from the moment he had set foot on the jet, his mind far too busy to do anything but sort through his thoughts, over and over, a tiring bout of exercise that he could have done without. he had known that it was necessary to travel to england, to step foot in the infamous palace that had been one of the few who had justified and promoted monarchy since day one. valerio couldn’t help but smile as his thoughts began down another, darker path, one full of spite and anger and jealousy directed at one man in particular. he found joy in the fact that, despite the war, and despite the dissolve as government as they knew it, somewhere on the same palace’s grounds, queen elizabeth was turning in her grave at the idea of anyone but her prized bloodline walking her palace’s corridors and perching themselves on century-old thrones. he welcomed and enjoyed the controversy, the idea that the prince, no, king, was struggling to settle the nerves of those who were unsure about his rule and trying to mask the blatant disregard for tradition by the united nations that seemed to be becoming more and more prevalent to the public. it’s exactly why valerio was here, the portugese king traveling hundreds of miles to participate in foreign engagement intended to promote the strength of the relationship between the two countries. there would be discussions over smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches, pinkies up as they hummed and hawed over the intricate details of their treaty and how portugal, with their fluctuating trade and the desirable nature of their other foreign relationships, would be an asset to helping england claw it’s way back up to being one of the most respectable countries.  

these thoughts made their way back to the forefront of his mind, then, as valerio sat waiting comfortably in a plush chair in one of the main state rooms. he felt irritation rise like bile with in him as he sat waiting, a few of his guard a number of paces behind him, consisting of three men whose sole job was to tend to his every need and to protect him under any circumstance. he all but ignored them, these men who were going to be assigned to him until death, whether it be his or theirs. instead, valerio took the time to flicker his gaze around the room, his attention drawn to the ceiling and the brightly colored decor, from the numerous scagliola and the bright hues of pink and blue lapis that were as far as the eye could see. and it was just so like bennett to have him wait here, to keep him waiting in a room that was just brimming with tradition and pride– typical of an amateur who had spent too much time with a finger up his ass at catherine to know the difference between attending court or a ball. he smiled, softly, at the thought, and focused his attention on the gilded entrance way, arched and swirling with intricate designs that made his eyes roll. he missed portugal. he missed lisbon, and his room, and his siblings, and his mother. he didn’t want to be here. in the place bennett must spend as much time as he can with her, sharing whispered, urgent conversations, comforting each other with light and easy caresses and reassuring kisses. the thought of it made valerio feel physically ill, repulsed at just the idea of him touching her. so he kept his eyes on the door and let all thoughts slip away, hoping to save them for later, to pretend they didn’t exist. he could do this. val would paint on his smile and follow through his chivalrous charade, one that would have monarchs everywhere beaming with pride at the promise he possessed. ‘he’s going to be great. i see it now.’ his father’s words play on a loop, a broken record that drowns his mind and prevents him from thinking of her. how she’s here. how this is the closest he’s been to her in weeks. months. he doesn’t think about any of it. 

the door opens, and he stands. he does it on cue, an automatic response, and his large hands smooth over the deep grey of his suit, so grey that it’s almost black, pinned with a small version of his country’s flag, frozen in a ripple and small enough to fit in the dip of his palm. valerio’s fixing his position, a fluid combination of movements where he fit his hands behind his back, inclined his head, and bowed as he heard the footsteps stop. a little too early. and it’s then, as he raises his gaze to see what had halted his host, that he feels his breath catch in his throat, stifling and thick. because it wasn’t bennett darby, royal monarch of england. no. it was her. beauty as suffocating and intimidating as ever.

nikolette.

the wedding of princess nikolette kardos of hungary and his royal highness prince bennett darby of england was the headline of nearly ever magazine, newspaper and tabloid across the globe for what nikolette could only consider a lifetime. there were exclusive photos and on site interviews where every editor, every reporter fought to have the honor of being the most disgustingly invasive and incessantly inaccurate in their reporting. sure, the occasion was riddled with celebrities and royalty and all sorts of glamour, though not one of them bothered to take a glance behind the bride’s glittering smile. not one of them heard the emptiness of her vows or the bite in her tone. they didn’t comment on how she hadn’t touched her dinner at the reception or how she hadn’t bothered to put out a statement about her gleaming nuptials. no one seemed to care that the bride seemingly had no desire for one second of the event that she was insufferably unhappy as her guests chortled and gossiped about, spitting compliments and well wishes her way. not once did she glance at her husband when unprompted, nor did she bother to say an errant word despite the joy she was supposedly experiencing due to the ring on her finger and the man by her side. she had sat and danced and smiled her way through the night with only the promise of escaping to a remote paradise the next morning motivating her through it all. except, of course, that she had somehow forgotten that she wasn’t allowed even a moment to herself, as the cameras trailed them on their honeymoon, thankfully not capturing how she retched every night at the idea of completing her royal duty.

it was only when their plane landed back in london that she could feel the reigns loosen, at least infinitesimally. there was freedom in this palace, a sense that she didn’t need to pretend to be the blushing bride or the subservient wife the public expected her to be. bennett didn’t coddle her, though she could tell he didn’t fully understand the extend of how claustrophobic the role she was playing left her feeling. it was rare, even months after things had settled, that she didn’t feel as if she was suffocating. she spent much of her time in her rooms, never having bothered to move her things into the master suite, as was expected of her new title as queen of england, as it was the only place in the country where she felt comfortable enough to breathe easily. her defiance of everyone in the palace had begun as backlash for the coddling, but it soon evolved into a game of who it was that would cave first. bennett’s grandmother, whom nikolette had always shared a mutual distaste, was adamant that she act the role of an esteemed english queen, which was the exact reason nikolette refused to do so. it began with her wardrobe — that of which bennett’s grandmother had deemed fit for a common trollop, at which nikolette kindly thanked her — to her foul language to the way she held her silverware at meals. it felt almost normal to participate in such games, so familiar that she sometimes could feel her heart lurch. she wondered about him often, wondered whether he bothered to wonder about her, but thought better of it, sending a biting comment in her grandmother-in-law’s direction to distract herself from the shame and anger that flooded through her veins. she didn’t see any reason to pine over someone uninterested, despite how difficult it was to tear her mind’s eye from the image of him — the unanswered questions behind his gaze, the confident, infuriating slope of his smirk and the sheer strength in the way his hands... it was no use; it was unlikely she’d ever encounter that man again, not in the way she had before their disastrous last conversation.

niko sighed as her footsteps echoed off the gilded rafters of the entryway, one of her ladies maids scuttling close by to collect her riding helmet and gloves, the young girl avoiding eye contact at all costs. niko grinned at the idea, amused to no end that the girl had caught on so quickly; surely one of the other servants in the palace had given her a warning to walk on eggshells when it came to their unceremonious new queen. it must be quite the change for them to not only serve someone so young, but also so disinterested in the rules of propriety and tradition. “ you’re dismissed, ” she purred, mouth curled in a smirk as the girl practically ran the other way. she had her sights set on the table of glittering amber bottles as she opened the doors to their most frequently used state room, only for her smile to disappear and her steps to halt the moment she saw who had already been occupying the room. she didn’t recognize him for a split second, as he was bent at the waist in a respectful bow, but the moment she caught sight of the heartbreakingly beautiful angle of his jaw, her muscles froze her in place, all the breath leaving her lungs in one rapid exhale. everything about him was familiar, not only in appearance, but also in presence. she could feel the authority he carried with him, the arrogance despite the slight surprise on his face that she was sure was mirrored on her own. she realized, after a few moments of simply staring at him, she had forgotten the exact color of his eyes. her memory hadn’t done them justice in their depth and promise to drown her should she choose to dive into them as she so willingly had in the past.

“Oh?” her brow quirks. She hadn’t been alone then. “Didn’t enjoy the party then? I mean I only remember about half of it but I think the food was pretty good.” 

it wasn’t as if every moment passed with a purpose, the majority of his days blurring together, the distinctness of their separation getting lost in his inability to keep them apart. everything was the same as he drowned in a sea of pointless pussy, the different girls he managed to somehow bed every other night starting to blur together as well. he couldn’t remember if it was monday or mavra from moscow that had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, but either way, there was nothing powerful enough, no drug or drink, that could mask the loathing he felt for himself. so different from the usually narcissism he used as a safe haven. he lays naked on the bed, the sheets spread in havoc around him, draped half heartedly over parts of his body. he’s intent on staying here for the entirety of the day, knowing full well stukov won’t allow him to starve even if he stayed here forever. valerio’s eyes are closed as he hears it, the tell-tale sound of his phone ringing, chiming out a song that he barely recognizes. he reaches out sightlessly, his hand dragging across the expanse of the sheets before he feels the cool metal of his phone against his skin. he answers on the last ring without reading the caller identification, and the peal of an all too familiar voice has his heart sinking in his chest. val half listens to her words, the irony stark as she thanks him for answering, though he never would have had he known it was her that had called. but it was too late, he was in too deep, and his curiosity got the best of him. he heaves a large sigh against his phone’s receiver before finally, he speaks. ‘well? spit it out, then.’

“i don’t need tricks to get women into my room niko.” he commented, taking a drink from the elegant glass that balanced between his fingers. “no i just believe that women, especially royal women, have extra pressure placed upon them at these events. it’s a bit ridiculous in my opinion.”

“So did you have fun? With your family I mean? The palace feels empty now that the party is over” she half smiles tucking her short hair behind her ear. 

“nothing bothers me more then when people expect women to come to balls dressed to the ten’s but then the men can get away with wearing suits that don’t fit. it’s called a TAILOR. you cannot put all this pressure on the ladies and then slack on your own appearance. — ziemlich faul meiner meinung nach.” alaric sneered with a sip from his champagne glass.

it was almost as if though their first encounter was engrained into his mind, the recollection of such a life-changing event the catalyst behind his initial courting of the hungarian princess. valerio had been young, foolish – seeking love in a way so desperate that he was reminiscent of malvolio, so in love with the mere idea of love that it was almost nearly damning. he remembered the extent of his search, his unruly and unorthodox ways he would employ in order to screen out his potential soulmate. valerio was with the idea of ‘true love’, of discovering the sole individual who was capable of bringing him to his knees with a simple glance, someone who could make his heart take off at breakneck speed with the warmth in their eyes or the brightness of their smile. and it was when he saw her that he may have sort of believed all of it that much more, the romanticization of what it meant to find that one special person, to realize that, somehow, they were made just for you, and you for them. the revelation was in their innate magnetism, the way they drew together even in the most unlikely of circumstance. finding each other in a crowded room, seeing through the transparent natures of the decadent royals surrounding them? it all managed to simply fuel their fire, to engulf the entirety of valerio’s being in it’s insistent flames. she could set the room alight with her beauty, with the grace that dripped from each of her articulate turns of phrase, her perfectly polite greetings and farewells, from the sharp edges of her sinful smile. valerio couldn’t look away, not even when she spared him more than one glance, alarm the initial flicker behind the deep blue of her bright eyes, before it turned into a lustful interest that had both her and him sinking white incisors into the flesh of their lip. want wasn’t enough to describe the depth of their desire, etched in every line of their royal features. and he can remember, even now, with years on their timeline of the never ending push and pull, the ebb and flow that made them val and niko, he can remember how he felt the very first time. he remembered the rapid pace his pulse had taken off, the way his blood rushed with such strength that he could feel the chorus of it in his ears, taste the want on his tongue. he remembered when they kissed for the first time, with the promise of just this once to i need you, always on the end of each brush of their lips, all of his questions answered with each flick of her tongue, each drag of her teeth. it was their first time and he was an addict, a fiend for nikolette kardos, knowing without his fix, he couldn’t survive. it was the first day that valerio knew, no matter how much he tried, he could never truly leave her.

with this in mind valerio allows her to draw him in, pretends as if each one of her slow, careful movements isn’t as antagonizing as the last– he permits her manipulation, desperate for even the ghost of her touch. usually, he’s personified desire, the fullness of his pink lips and the stern set of his jaw playing into the beauty he already so effortlessly possessed. he wished he had the ability to rid himself of the indulgent charisma, yearned to shed himself of the peddling persona that managed to get him into such trouble. but he couldn’t, his characteristic charm being one of the many reasons he was even considered by her, a princess with an insatiable appetite for pleasure, for attention, for love – without it, he was sure she would have grown painfully bored, lost without the games in which she had years and years of practice. so he played along, pretended like it wasn’t killing him every time he parts the legs of someone else, every time his lip is caught between another girl’s teeth he can feel his heart break, knowing that it’s one girl, and one girl only, that has it in her delicate hands. and for valerio, he felt she always would. so he’s okay with her pulling closer, he’s perfectly fine with the fleeting kiss she presses to the corner of his lips. he plays along because that’s what he does. and val knows it’s his turn, his witty reply on the tip of his tongue– but then she’s pushing him away, in the most literal and figurative way, and he can feel his brows furrow automatically. she was much better at pretending than he gave her credit for. he’s still reeling from her refusal when she starts speaking again, her disinterest and nonchalance enough to make bile rise in his throat as her words leave her lips. at this point, as she lets the words hang in the air between them, as he acts as if the entirety of who they are isn’t shattered with her spiteful hints. because valerio is no fool and he can do the math, the days and the circumstance all lining up to reveal what she’s been trying so steadfastly to hide. ‘if you’re telling me what i think you are,’ he takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as his jaw tightens and his fists clench at his sides, his mirth completely gone, all sense of his animated, teasing nature erased and replaced by a kind of hurt that even he can’t wipe from his expression. ‘–i’m not doing this anymore.’ his head shakes, his brow drawn together so intensely that his eyes are hardly visible. ‘i’m done, nikolette. for good.’ he swipes his hand over his face as frustration overwhelms him, and his heart breaks even more than before. ‘you wanted to do this without me, and you will.’ and no, it’s not that simple, but valerio allows it to be as he adjusts the collar of his shirt and tugs on the lapels of his jacket, preparing to leave. but not before he speaks what he fully intends to be his last words, to the girl he had once swore he would never abandon. ‘when i leave, do not follow me. pretend like,’ his face is set now, void of emotion– he can’t look at her though, his resolve crumbling with each passing moment as he itches to flee, ‘pretend like i was never even here.’ 

for the longest time, nikolette kardos didn’t believe in love. she thought the idea was foolish and immature, just something someone was sold as a guise of lust. she didn’t believe that there was ever anyone important enough, anyone worth enough to dedicate herself so completely to because there was not one thing in the world worth giving up herself. she wasn’t looking for it — if anything she ran from even the mention of the four letter word — and yet she found it anyways. which, she thought, was some sort of cosmic joke to which the punchline hung like a sword above her head. though she now knows it’s real, has experienced it firsthand, she despises it even more than when it was nothing but a foreign concept. it had sunk its talons into her, drawing blood with every move she made, every thought that crossed her mind. she couldn’t remember what her life had been before she’d caught it, couldn’t remember because it shrouded every inch of her mind, consumed every breath she took. it was eating her alive and there was nothing magical about it. love was drowning her, filling her lungs to the point where she could barely breathe. and it was only worsened as time passed. so many believe the love is the opposite of hate, but they can’t know how the two go hand-in-hand, how there’s no chance of one without the other and it was exhausting trying to rid herself of them both. she hated him, she loved him, she didn’t want to feel any of it. she hated every infuriating syllable, loved the intoxicating poison in his kiss, hated the beauty, loved the monster. the worst of it was when she couldn’t decide if she hated him or loved him, when she was an unbearable combination of the two, brimming with it to the point where she knows that one small touch of his fingers would send her spilling over the edge. she loved it and she hated it.