Zayan returned to the library with calm, calculated steps. Behind his silence, a storm brewed — not of rage, but of need.
"She's still unconscious," he said as he closed the door behind him. "My men are watching her. She won't wake until morning."
Nora, still seated among scattered books, looked up at him. "Was it Nathaira?"
He nodded. "She left something behind… as if she wanted to remind me she's not done."
"She's desperate," Nora whispered.
"She's foolish," he replied coldly, then paused. "But I won't let her — or anyone — take a single moment from us tonight."
His eyes found hers, softer now. Longing replaced the usual sharpness in his stare.
He walked to her, pulled her gently to her feet, and without a word, he held her.
His embrace was warm. Protective. Fierce.
"Come here," he said, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her to the velvet lounge chair in the corner of the library. He sat down with her in his lap again, holding her close, her legs straddling him this time.
"You feel so small in my arms," he murmured, brushing her hair back. "But you carry such fire in you, Nora. Do you know that?"
She blushed faintly, resting her forehead against his. "I only burn when you touch me."
Zayan smirked. "You shouldn't say things like that when I'm trying to behave."
"Who said I want you to behave?" she whispered, a teasing light dancing in her eyes.
That was all it took.
He kissed her again — this time, slow but passionate, his hands roaming her sides, memorizing every curve, every breath she took. Nora's hands slipped beneath his coat, feeling the tension in his body, the strength barely held in check.
Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't scared. Not tonight. Not with him.
Zayan broke the kiss but didn't move away. "Tell me again," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Say it."
She looked into his eyes, lips just brushing his.
"My master…"
He growled low, pulling her closer. "Again."
She leaned in, whispering this time — slow and dangerous like a spell.
"My master."
He kissed her deeply, lost in the way her voice claimed him.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours — not rushing, not needing to go further — just being. Kissing, touching, and holding on like the world outside didn't matter.
Nora rested her head against his chest again.
"Zayan?"
"Yes?"
"If I give you everything… will you break me?"
"No," he said immediately. Then softly, "But I'll make you forget you were ever broken to begin with."
She smiled, and he kissed her forehead.
In another room of the castle, Nathaira remained unconscious, unaware that while she lay motionless, Zayan gave his heart — the heart she could never have — to someone else.
To the girl who wore no crown, but ruled him anyway.
Chapter 47: Yours, Always
Zayan returned to the library with calm, calculated steps. Behind his silence, a storm brewed — not of rage, but of need.
"She's still unconscious," he said as he closed the door behind him. "My men are watching her. She won't wake until morning."
Nora, still seated among scattered books, looked up at him. "Was it Nathaira?"
He nodded. "She left something behind… as if she wanted to remind me she's not done."
"She's desperate," Nora whispered.
"She's foolish," he replied coldly, then paused. "But I won't let her — or anyone — take a single moment from us tonight."
His eyes found hers, softer now. Longing replaced the usual sharpness in his stare.
He walked to her, pulled her gently to her feet, and without a word, he held her.
His embrace was warm. Protective. Fierce.
"Come here," he said, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her to the velvet lounge chair in the corner of the library. He sat down with her in his lap again, holding her close, her legs straddling him this time.
"You feel so small in my arms," he murmured, brushing her hair back. "But you carry such fire in you, Nora. Do you know that?"
She blushed faintly, resting her forehead against his. "I only burn when you touch me."
Zayan smirked. "You shouldn't say things like that when I'm trying to behave."
"Who said I want you to behave?" she whispered, a teasing light dancing in her eyes.
That was all it took.
He kissed her again — this time, slow but passionate, his hands roaming her sides, memorizing every curve, every breath she took. Nora's hands slipped beneath his coat, feeling the tension in his body, the strength barely held in check.
Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't scared. Not tonight. Not with him.
Zayan broke the kiss but didn't move away. "Tell me again," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Say it."
She looked into his eyes, lips just brushing his.
"My master…"
He growled low, pulling her closer. "Again."
She leaned in, whispering this time — slow and dangerous like a spell.
"My master."
He kissed her deeply, lost in the way her voice claimed him.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours — not rushing, not needing to go further — just being. Kissing, touching, and holding on like the world outside didn't matter.
Nora rested her head against his chest again.
"Zayan?"
"Yes?"
"If I give you everything… will you break me?"
"No," he said immediately. Then softly, "But I'll make you forget you were ever broken to begin with."
She smiled, and he kissed her forehead.
In another room of the castle, Nathaira remained unconscious, unaware that while she lay motionless, Zayan gave his heart — the heart she could never have — to someone else.
To the girl who wore no crown, but ruled him anyway.