The stillness of the emperor's chamber was broken only by the rustle of linen as Lola stirred beneath the covers. Sleep had just begun to pull her under when warmth pressed against her back; an arm, strong and sure, wrapped around her waist.
Her breath caught. "Your Majesty…"
"Don't move," came his whisper, rough and aching. "I only want to hold you."
She lay frozen, her heart pounding. His hand did not roam. It merely held her possessive, trembling, human.
"I don't think this is right," she breathed, her voice barely audible in the dark.
"Then let it be wrong," Xander murmured, his forehead pressing gently against the curve of her neck. "Just for tonight. Let me breathe next to you. Let me feel something that isn't duty."
Lola closed her eyes, helpless against the plea in his voice. Slowly, her body relaxed against his. But her soul was restless.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered again, though she made no move to pull away.
"I'm always with you, even when I shouldn't be," he replied. "So tell me, where do I go to stop wanting you?"
She turned in his arms. Her eyes found his exhausted, storm-tossed, brimming with unspoken longing.
"Hi," she said softly.
His lips curved with sadness. "Don't look away this time."
She did.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Silence.
So he reached up and cradled her cheek, lifting her face until she met his gaze. Pain flickered behind her lashes, and his heart clenched.
"I see it in your eyes," he said. "The sorrow. The distance. The fear."
"Don't say things you'll regret," she replied, voice shaking. "Because I might believe them."
"Then believe this."
He kissed her. First gently. Then fiercely. As if each second had been held back for too long. She gasped against his mouth, and his hand slid into her hair, anchoring her to him. The kiss deepened, lips hungry, breaths ragged. A desperate, silent confession neither dared speak aloud.
When she broke free, her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. She stepped away, trembling, pressing both hands against the windowpane.
"You didn't run this time," he said behind her.
"What's the point of running?" she whispered. "We were always going to get here."
She turned. "So let's just… get it over with."
That cut him deeper than she knew. He crossed the space between them slowly and took her hand.
"You think I want only your body?" he asked. "Lola, I want you. Not just tonight, not just desire, I want the fire in your eyes when you challenge me. I want the silence when you hurt but refuse to say it. I want the woman who made me feel again."
Tears glistened in her eyes.
"You're dangerous," she whispered.
"Then let me ruin you sweetly," he said, kissing her again.
She rose onto her toes, her hands sliding into his hair as she pulled him closer. His mouth claimed hers with urgency, and her body arched into him. Fingers moved with reverence and hunger. Her nightgown slipped from her shoulders, falling in a hush to the floor. He inhaled the sight of her; bare, beautiful, brave.
"Tell me to stop," he said once more, his forehead resting against hers.
She took his hand and placed it over her heart. "Don't stop. Not tonight."
Xander lifted her in his arms, kissing her again, slower this time, deeper. He laid her down upon the bed like a prayer, his hands exploring her skin with worshipful patience. She traced every scar on his chest, every line of tension he carried, and for the first time, he let her.
They undressed each other slowly, reverently, breathing each other in as though memorizing a secret. When his body joined hers, it wasn't haste, it was heat and wonder. Her sigh became his anchor, his touch her undoing.
Their rhythm built, wave after wave, gasps and moans swallowed into kisses. He whispered her name like a vow, and she clung to him like she would never let go.
Outside, the palace was quiet. But in the emperor's chamber, the night echoed with passion that belonged to no crown only to them.
And just before dawn, when sleep teased their eyes, Xander whispered against her skin,
"You are the only truth I've ever known."