#*declan thread*

He'd agreed to come by and pick her up this evening. He'd had a late meeting and she was out with friends not too far from his office, so naturally it made sense for his driver to swing by her venue on the way back to his place rather than have her make her way there later.

Declan left his driver with the car outside and made his way inside the club she'd told him she'd be at, his features maintaining the visual of ice; cool and calm. This despite the fact that his eyes visibly began searching the area for her as soon as he stepped inside. He looked entirely out of place, perfectly trimmed and kempt, dressed in a tailored Armani suit, a Rolex around his wrist. The sheer value of the man's attire probably surpassed the average occupant's yearly income. And yet he didn't seem bothered by the smell, the noise or fact that one person or other was intermittently bumping into him as he made his way through the crowds.

In fact, his expression didn't change until he finally spotted the gorgeous redhead on the dancefloor surrounded by several appropriately aged males, and at that point it was only for his lips to thin and brows to shift slightly higher on his forehead before his features settled back into that same indifferent mien. He watched her for a few seconds, considering the many different actions he could take, as well as the possible outcomes of those actions, before he turned around to leave.

Declan didn't usually do this. He was always accompanied; never the one to accompany another. And yet she'd somehow roped him into it. So there he was, standing outside her apartment complex, finger on the buzzer while his driver, Tim, waited in the car behind him. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a matching west, wore a light blue button-down and slightly darker tie. Not unlike his usual attire, but then, she hadn't specified that he should wear a tux or that he should dress particularly Christmas-themed, so he'd settled on the usual.

Declan let the buzzer go once he was certain it had been heard, and took a step back from the door, hands in the pockets of his pants as he waited for Cora to make an appearance.

Declan had done a lot of things in his life. Some good, a lot bad. Most of them based on smart, meticulously planned, unemotional decisions. That night with Cora though, he probably had to add to a fairly short list of foolish things in his life. He shouldn't have let her leave like that; he knew that, and had spent at least the first few days going back and forth between anger and regret. Pride though, arguably his biggest influence as far as the seven deadly sins went, kept him largely locked in anger. Anger with Cora, with Marcus, with himself. And it wasn't logical, which only made it worse. To most people, Declan Archer seemed his usual self, though decidedly less likely to grant a smile, and perhaps a little shorter with his poor PA.

He'd been distant, had kept his sparse communication with Cora practical. She'd told him when she got on the plane, and had gotten an "ok" in response. She'd told him when she landed safely, and had gotten a "good" in response. Then Cora had removed her watch, something he always got an alert about, and he'd figured maybe she needed to charge it, or perhaps - more than likely, she was trying to send him a message that she was done. After a day or so, the tension in his chest got to be too much, and he'd texted her. With no answer, a few hours later he'd tried calling. No answer. Another text the next day with no response. Another call, this time going straight to voicemail.

By that point, he'd started to worry. He hadn't kept tabs on her while she was away, trying to give her the space she'd asked for, and he felt fairly certain that she was safe in Alston with her brother. But the tension in his chest had become more of a gnawing sensation in his gut, so he'd called his pilot and gotten the plane set up for take-off. Then he'd told Lily goodbye, telling her simply that he had a last minute business meeting and that he'd be back soon. He'd tried calling Cora again before getting on the plane and was sent straight to voicemail.

By the time he stood before Cora's childhood home, premium SUV parked behind him, a driver (not Tim) he'd hired in order to be able to work on the way there, seated behind the wheel, he was a lot less patient than he had been.

Two firm knocks on the door, before it was opened by a beautiful woman he had to assume was Val. She barely got a glance before Declan was breezing past her inside the house. He was perched to call out Cora's name when he spotted her in the living room. Steps quick, determined, he closed the distance between them and wrapped strong fingers around each side of her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he took her in, azure orbs flickering around her face, concern written all over his austere features as he took in everything he could possibly read. Lips parted to let out the breath of relief that surged out of him. She was safe. She was okay. Which only left one other obvious conclusion: He'd come all this way for a woman who'd already decided to shut him out.

Marcus and Declan been behind closed doors for hours, shuttered in the office since Marcus had shown up. Lily was on a playdate, which meant, aiming to take advantage of her absence, that Declan had promised Cora some time for them this afternoon, something he didn't often set aside time for during the week - especially the past couple of months. So Cora was off elsewhere - reading in the library, if Declan had to guess, but he hadn't checked up on her. Whenever she was home, safe and sound within the walls of their home, he never really felt a need for that.

“My wants are unconventional.” Declan told the woman who’d been brought to his chambers; one of the queen’s ladies. “The queen is uncomfortable with the concept, but…” he paused, his eyes trailing over her. “I do not believe you have that problem.” He stepped closer, his fingers reaching out to tentatively trail down the gentle curve of her jawline. “Do you?” As king, he could simply command her to submit. He could command that she remove her clothes and surrender her body to his desires, but he didn’t want that. Not this evening. No, he wished to take her, secure in the knowledge that she craved the touch he could grant her. He knew rumours of his preferences were fluctuating the castle, as well as most of the kingdom no doubt, and he suspected it was part of what had drawn this little flower to him, her eyes wilfully and repeatedly seeking his from across various rooms for the past few weeks.

"You have ten minutes to put on something sexy and be ready to open the door. Twelve, if traffic is slow."

Declan pressed send without further thought, and slipped the phone back into the inside pocket of his tailor-made suit jacket. Then he offered a simple nod to his driver, who promptly steered the sleek, black Mercedes onto the road. He didn’t check to see if she replied, primarily because he fully expected her to do what he paid for; be at his beck and call. No questions asked. Complete devotion to him and him alone. Just the way he liked it. Exactly ten minutes and thirty-six seconds after sending the text, Declan was at her door, knuckle rapping gently against the wooden surface.

“My wants are unconventional.” Declan told the woman who'd been brought to his chambers; one of the queen’s ladies. “The queen is uncomfortable with the concept, but…” he paused, his eyes trailing over her. “I do not believe you have that problem.” He stepped closer, his fingers reaching out to tentatively trail down the gentle curve of her jawline. “Do you?” As king, he could simply command her to submit. He could command that she remove her clothes and surrender her body to his desires, but he didn’t want that. Not this evening. No, he wished to take her, secure in the knowledge that she craved the touch he could grant her. He knew rumours of his preferences were fluctuating the castle, as well as most of the kingdom no doubt, and he suspected it was part of what had drawn this little flower to him, her eyes wilfully and repeatedly seeking his from across various rooms for the past few weeks.

“My every need?” Declan’s left brow rose minutely in scepticism. “I doubt you know what you'd be getting yourself into with a promise like that.” He was giving her the chance for an out, rather than keeping to the assurance that she’d attend to everything - including very personal needs - if only he’d let her keep her job. “My needs, if you will, are not always entirely conventional.” It wasn’t that Declan was in any way opposed to such an agreement; in fact, he’d often found himself admiring the subtle curves of his maid, picturing how her flawless skin would look with dents and swells of his making. No, his hesitation was not wrought by lack of temptation, but rather mostly - if not entirely - by his lack of desire to touch a woman who didn’t truly want his touch.