Chapter 13
Deborah’s sudden response sent Damian over the edge. Whatever rational thought he had left was completely drowned out by the drug’s effect.
In one fierce motion, he tore open her robe. Her smooth, pale shoulders were instantly exposed to his heated gaze.
His hand–rough and calloused from years on the battlefield–slipped inside he
collar and clutched her slender body with forceful possessiveness.
The moment his hand found her, Deborah’s strength vanished. Her entire body went soft, collapsing against him.
“Your Highness…” she murmured weakly.
Damian held her tighter. His voice was a low rasp, pulled from deep in his throat. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
His voice–deep, rough, and unexpectedly tender–made her dizzy. She felt drunk on the sound of it.
“Your Highness…” she whispered again, voice trembling with shame and longing.
Before either of them could stop it, they were tumbling onto the bed. His overwhelming presence smothered her, stealing the air from her lungs. Everything was hot.
His kisses were demanding, devouring–but laced with a surprising sweetness. As he kissed her more deeply, Deborah couldn’t help but lift her head to meet him. Yet, even as her lips responded, tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes.
She was conscious. She knew who he was–Damian. But her body refused to listen.
She wanted to hold him, kiss him, give in to him. It felt like some invisible force had taken over, leaving her powerless to resist.
When his lips finally left hers and began trailing down her neck, her hand instinctively moved to his head–she meant to push him away.
But instead, her fingers tangled in his hair, Not pulling him back–but drawing him closer, deeper.
She didn’t want to stop. She wondered, ‘Why is this happening? He is Simon’s brother…
Deborah could do nothing but cry as she gave in to his touch–her body shuddering with conflicting waves of grief and desire. Her clothes had already falien away, discarded who–knew–when.
Damian lifted his head, looking down at her through dark, hooded eyes. Her tear–glazed gaze met his.
His hand gripped her slender ankle. With a sharp pull, he dragged her beneath him.
Skin met skin. Even the simplest touch sent fire–racing through them both.
Deborah couldn’t make a sound. Her chest ached with sorrow, and yet her body pressed against his instinctively, helplessly. The tears wouldn’t stop falling.
After tonight, she could never face Simon again. Whatever future they might have had–it ended here. Now, they were strangers.
Her body clung to Damian’s, but her heart broke with every tear. She sobbed through gritted teeth, the name slipping from her lips like a dagger. “Simon…”
That one whisper pierced Damian straight through the chest. He stared down at her tear–streaked face, frozen.
His hand around her ankle began to tremble, grip tightening–shaking.
He thought, ‘Damn this drug. And then, without warning, he shoved her away.
He threw on his robe, barely bothering to close it, and stormed off the bed.
With a loud crash, he grabbed a vase from the table and smashed it against the surface.
The sharp sound snapped Deborah back to herself.
She instinctively pushed herself upright, looking toward the commotion–just in time to see Damian pick up a jagged shard of the vase…and drive it straight into his thigh.
Blood poured instantly, soaking through the robe, splattering the floor.
“Your Highness!” Deborah gasped, the shock jolting her fully awake.
apter 13
He’d hurt himself–just to force the drug out of his system.
The sight of his blood made her panic. She tried to get out of bed, to go to him–but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her arms gave out, and she collapsed forward, sliding toward the floor.
Before she could hit the ground, Damian caught her.
“Your Highness…” she whispered again, voice trembling with shame and longing.
In that instant, every moment from earlier came flooding back. The way his body had pressed against hers, the raw heat between them, the hardness she’d felt…
They’d been that close. Closer than anyone should be. There had been no space, no hesitation. Just one more breath, one more movement–and it would’ve been too late.
She wondered, ‘How are we supposed to face each other after this?‘
But before she could think further, a new wave of heat rushed over her. The drug’s effects still hadn’t fully worn off.
She was burning again. Her mind screamed for clarity, but her body reached out, desperate for his touch.
“Your Highness…” she whispered again, voice trembling with shame and longing.
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