The Lustforged Hero-Chapter 44: Alone with Princess Isabella 1

The meeting tapered off, the fire dwindling to a soft glow as the king's voice locked in the plan. Chairs scraped the worn wood floor as everyone stood, shaking out the stiffness of hours spent bent over strategy. Wine cups sat drained, platters picked clean of roast boar, and a fragile thread of hope wove through the room despite Maltheris' dark shadow creeping closer.

The king rose, his gray beard catching the last flickers of light, and his deep voice softened with a warmth that felt out of place after the night's tension. "That's enough for now. You've all earned some rest. The palace has rooms to spare, so sleep here and head out fresh when the sun's up." He waved a hand toward the hall, signaling the end and the generals murmured their thanks among themselves.

Liam rolled his shoulders, the plan settled in his mind, tension loosening into a quiet hum as he followed the others out.

Servants slipped into the hall, moving with the quiet efficiency, guiding the group through the palace's marble corridors. Torchlight danced across the walls, casting long, shifting patterns, and the soft echo of boots filled the air.

Liam trailed at the back, his thoughts swirling with the fact that he had to perform, and the weight of the king's words. His thigh ached less now, dulled by exhaustion, though fatigue crept through him like an unwelcome whisper, settling just beneath his skin, weeks on the road clung to him like dust.

A young servant led him to a guest wing, where dark wood doors lined a hushed corridor, and pointed to one with a murmured, "Yours, sir," before vanishing around a corner. Liam pushed the door open—inside, a simple room waited, a bed piled high with thick furs, a single candle flickering on a stand, wax pooling slow—then a hand snagged his wrist, yanking him sideways into the shadows before he could cross the threshold.

He stumbled, his breath catching as a door clicked shut behind him—a smaller room, dimly lit, shelves stacked with scrolls and parchment, the air thick with dust.

The first thing he noticed was her scent, a mix of lavender with a subtle hint of wine, and then Princess Isabella was there, her golden hair spilling loose over her shoulders, blue eyes wild with an urgency that left him frozen.

She pressed close, gripping his tunic with trembling fingers, twisting the fabric in her grasp. Then her lips met his, hot and urgent, a kiss so fierce it sent a jolt through him like a spark. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps, brushing against his mouth as her tongue teased his. His pulse pounded, her fingers digging into his chest, raw passion spilling unchecked between them. Beyond the door, torchlight cast a faint glow, but the world had shrunk to nothing but her and the relentless thudding in his ears.

Liam pulled back, his hands landing on her shoulders—his breath came ragged as he stared down at her needy face glowing in the dim light—blue eyes wide and searching, lips parted and swollen, flushed cheeks trembling with raw want.

He stood frozen, his chest tight, the impact of her audacity hitting him like a punch. Her hands now hovered near his tunic, hesitating as doubt entered her voice.

"I thought—sorry, I shouldn't have—" she began, her apology spilling out in a rush, her eyes dropped and doubt in her expression, afraid she had gone too far, vulnerable and exposed, her golden hair catching the weak light framing her face.

His core twisted with hunger, and he reacted before she could finish, palm cupping the back of her neck, bringing her in, lips crashing hers, silencing her words with a deep and passionate kiss, her moan vibrating against him, relief and fire merging as the room whirled around them.

Her hands moved up, tangled in his hair to pull him closer. Her tongue met his, it was wet and urgent, and her taste was faintly sweet like wine. Her body was pressed against him, soft curves shaping against her silk dress. His hands moved around, sliding down her back as heat built between them. Her breath caught as she kissed him harder, her teeth grazing his lips. His heart raced with a reckless edge. Maltheris existence faded, no plan was relevant at the moment , and only she and this moment was bright and alive.

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Liam quickly carried her to a table against the wall, scattering scrolls and quills as his arm swept wide, clattering to the floor in a messy heap, leaving the wood bare. He set her down, her silk dress rustling as it bunched around her thighs, her legs dangling, and her laugh huffed. He grabbed her waist, and his strong hands lifted her. Her gasp broke their kiss. Her blue eyes flashed with surprise and desire.

His hands slid lower and cupped her ass, pressing hard and digging into the soft flesh through the silk. Her moan, high and raw, vibrated against his lips. Her hips rocked, pressing closer, her legs hooking around his waist, drawing him in. His growl answered deep in his throat, kissing deeper, tongue wrestling hers. Her nails raked his neck, leaving sharp trails of heat on his skin. The room was dark, the candlelight gone, and only torch glow was left. Time was blurred, and every touch added to the fire.

She grabbed at his tunic, fingers clumsy and shaky, as fabric shifted beneath his hands.

His hands traced higher, thumbs stroking her ribcage, caressing the edge of delicate skin.

A sharp moan escaped her as she tilted her head back, golden hair spilling over the table like a cascade. His lips followed, trailing along her jaw, nipping gently at the tender skin. Her gasps quickened, hands tangling in his hair, clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer with desperate urgency.

Their mouths met again, hot and reckless, tongues colliding. Her hips shifted under his hands, and he squeezed, drawing another muffled moan, sweet and needy. His chest pressed against hers, their heartbeats pounding in sync, lost in the fever of the moment.