The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 279: His Try

The soft rustle of fabric and the scrape of wood were the only sounds in the dimly lit room as Jessamyn hastily tucked away the paper she’d been writing on. The delicate scent of ink lingered in the air as she closed the drawer, her fingers trembling slightly. But even as she tried to hide her secrets, she felt his presence—Jerrick, standing impossibly close, his warmth enveloping her like a blanket she both craved and feared.

He was so near that she could feel his breath on her neck. The briefest touch of his sleeve brushing against her arm sent a shiver down her spine. Her pulse quickened as his long, deft fingers slowly trailed along the edge of the drawer. Each movement was deliberate, a silent question hanging in the space between them. Jessamyn’s grip tightened on the drawer’s handle, her knuckles white as she pressed it shut with firm resolve.

"Keeping secrets from me, are you?" Jerrick’s voice was a low murmur, the words barely more than a whisper as they curled into her ear. His tone was laced with something dark—an edge of teasing, but with the underlying bite of suspicion.

Jessamyn’s heart thundered in her chest, each beat a drum of anxious anticipation. She swallowed hard, refusing to yield even an inch. "Yes," she answered simply, her voice steady but barely above a whisper, her fingers not loosening from the handle. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, piercing and unrelenting.

Jerrick didn’t pull away; instead, he remained close, his hand resting atop hers on the drawer, waiting. The silence was thick with the tension of their silent standoff. He was testing her, pushing against her boundaries with just enough force to challenge but not to overpower.

It was unlike him to be this insistent—usually, he respected her space. But this time was different. There was something in his eyes that made her wonder how long he’d hold back.

She held her ground, refusing to relent even as the seconds stretched into eternity. Her breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his presence a tangible pressure. He could easily have overpowered her; his strength far surpassed hers, and she knew that. But he didn’t.

Instead, after a long, agonizing moment, he let out a slow exhale and released his grip. He stepped back with a frustrated, resigned look, giving her the space she desperately needed.

Jessamyn’s fingers finally unclenched, and she let out a shaky breath, unsure whether it was relief or regret she felt. Her eyes remained fixed on the drawer, afraid to meet his gaze, fearing what she might find there.

"I won’t look at it without your permission," Jerrick said softly, his voice losing the edge of confrontation. There was a note of sincerity, almost a plea, as if he was asking her to trust him.

Jessamyn slowly turned, finally meeting his eyes. He had moved away and now sat on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. His movements were fluid, a practiced grace that only heightened the anticipation humming in the air. The soft light flickered over his broad chest as he loosened his collar, exposing the sculpted lines of his torso.

He looked like a man readying for bed, but Jessamyn knew better—there was a restless energy coiled beneath his calm demeanor. She could see it in the way his fingers moved, a barely restrained hunger simmering just beneath the surface. He hadn’t slept properly in days; she could tell from the faint shadows under his eyes, the tightness in his shoulders.

"I thought you might want some rest," she said quietly, trying to shift the conversation away from what had just transpired.

She moved to straighten the bed, but before she could complete the task, Jerrick’s strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. The sudden contact sent a surge of warmth through her, her face pressing against the hard planes of his chest.

She could feel his heartbeat, steady and rhythmic beneath her cheek, but there was a tension in it—something unspoken and heavy.

"My situation hasn’t changed," Jerrick murmured against her hair, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers stroked down the curve of her back, tracing invisible lines that left trails of warmth.

Jessamyn pressed her cheek more firmly against his bare skin, savoring the familiar scent of him—a mix of leather, earth, and something uniquely his. "How so?" she asked softly.

"I used to watch you suffer from afar, powerless to help," he said, a bitter edge lacing his words. "And now, even when I’m close, I feel just as useless."

Jessamyn leaned in closer, her breath hitching as she took in the depth of pain in his voice. "You’re here with me now. That’s more than enough."

Jerrick let out a soft, sorrowful chuckle. "And still, I can’t do anything to ease what you carry inside. What good is my presence if I can’t protect you?"

She reached up, cupping his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You have no idea how much it helps me just to have you near."

His expression softened for a brief moment before darkening again. Gently, he guided her back onto the bed, his fingers moving with reverence as he began to untie the intricate laces of her dress.

Jessamyn didn’t resist, her body pliant beneath his touch. He paused as he reached the corset, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Corset," he muttered, his tone tinged with irritation. It was no secret he hated the garment; to him, it was a barrier between them, a reminder of the formalities and restraints of their world.

Jessamyn couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and teasing. "It annoys you, doesn’t it?"

With a low growl, Jerrick’s hand shifted, and suddenly, his nails elongated into sharp claws. With one swift motion, he tore through the fabric, shredding the corset and dress alike. The ripping sound was startling, and Jessamyn’s eyes widened as she caught sight of his claw. She hadn’t known he could selectively shift parts of his body at will—it was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

"I liked that dress," she murmured, though her words held no real complaint. She reached out, tracing a delicate finger over his claw as it slowly retracted back into a human hand. There was something intimate in the way she explored his transformation, unafraid of the danger it represented.

Jerrick watched her, a glint of admiration in his gaze. "You’re not scared of me."

"You’d never harm me," she replied with certainty, bringing his finger to her lips and pressing a soft kiss against it.

"But I did." His voice was rough with regret, and before she could respond, he pulled her closer, discarding the remnants of her clothes as if they were nothing more than an annoyance. Skin met skin, and the heat between them was instant, like a fire rekindled after lying dormant for too long.

Jessamyn’s hand instinctively moved to her belly, her eyes widening as she felt a gentle flutter. A smile spread across her lips, serene and filled with wonder. "I felt him," she whispered, her eyes shining.

Jerrick’s hand joined hers, covering the small bump. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, feeling a fierce protectiveness surge through him. As he drew back, he searched her eyes, needing an answer to the question that had been haunting him.

"You still haven’t answered me. When I hurt you... have you forgiven me?"

She looked at him with genuine curiosity, as if struggling to recall the offense. "When did you harm me?" she asked.

Jerrick sighed, his expression clouded with guilt. "I accused you of not caring about Isadora. I was cruel."

Jessamyn’s eyes softened with understanding. "You were stressed. I knew you didn’t mean it."