Delirium takes over me as I lose myself, taking her faster and faster until I reach my release. My vision blurs, the room spinning around me as pleasure courses through my veins.
I drive into her one final time before collapsing onto her.
It was never like this with anyone else. Never so consuming. Never so pleasurable.
Annora doesn’t know it yet, but I have no intention of ever allowing her to return to Bakva.
She’s mine, to keep, to cherish, to love.
ChapterTwenty-One
ANNORA
Jasce’s lipsbrush against mine, stirring me from sleep. I open my eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.
“Good morning,” he says. “I brought us some breakfast.”
He stands and offers his hand. I let him pull me up and out of the cocoon of blankets.
Jasce leads me to the table by the balcony, where a simple breakfast is laid out—freshly baked bread, fruit, cheese, and a pitcher of almond milk. He pours me a cup as I sit.
Jasce takes the chair across from me and reaches for the knife. He saws off two thick slices of bread and places them on my plate.
“Eat,” he urges with a grin and pushes the plate closer.
I take a bite of bread as Jasce selects some cheese and fruit for himself.
Last night had been the culmination of everything building between us. Now, in the light of day, doubts creep in. What happens when we leave this temporary haven? When we return to the real world—a world where hatred and old prejudices still linger?
Jasce reaches across the table to brush his knuckles lightly over my cheek. “Where did you go just now?”
I shake my head and offer him a small smile. “Nowhere. Just...thinking.”
I finish the last bite of bread and take a final sip of the creamy almond milk. As I set my cup down, Jasce stands and comes around to my side of the table.
“Get dressed. I want to take you to the market today,” he says.
I let out a shaky exhale at the thought of venturing out into the bustling city streets with Jasce.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the entire time.”
After dressing in a plain surcoat and braiding my hair, I arrange the veil over my face, knowing I’m still not ready to be gawked at.
Jasce waits by the arched doorway, looking regal and handsome in a dark blue surcoat. When I step toward him, he extends his hand. I hesitate only a moment before placing my hand in his strong grip.
Together, we make our way from the bedchamber and through the corridors of the grand villa. Jasce nods to the occasional servant we pass along the way. Most of them lower their eyes and bow, yet it doesn’t stop me from wondering what they think about their chieftain with the woman who’s wearing a veil.
We emerge from the villa, and I blink into the bright desert sunlight. The dry heat presses against my skin as we descend the shallow steps leading down from the villa’s entrance, then head south toward the city.
When we reach the streets a short while later, they are already bustling with activity—children laughing and dashing underfoot and people moving from shop to shop.
Jasce tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and steers us into the lively flow of traffic. We meander from stall to stall, pausing to examine the various goods on display—vibrant textiles, gleaming pottery, and aromatic spices.
Jasce strikes up conversations with many of the vendors, his easy charm and genuine interest earning him smiles and laughter. He listens attentively as they regale him with tales of their crafts and lives.
Eventually, we come to the center square, where more permanent shops with elaborate archways line the edges. Jasce guides me toward a stone building with a sign painted in swirling golden letters.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” he says. “Narhavva is known for its glassblowing. The artisans here can craft anything you can imagine.”
