Three weeks out of hospital and I still felt like I was moving through a dream. The doctors had warned about disorientation, about the way a brush with death could make everything seem surreal. But this wasn't medical—this was of pure wonder at how completely my life had transformed during those weeks of recovery, with Evangeline refusing to leave my side despite palace pressure and her own royal duties.
Evangeline walked beside me through the Bellavista forest, her hand warm in mine, sunlight filtering through the canopy above us. She'd insisted on this walk despite my protests about security protocols.
She had said, "I've been cooped up in hospitals and palaces for weeks," with that stubborn tilt to her chin that I had grown to adore. "I need air. Real air."
The past three weeks had been a careful dance of healing and revelation. While my body mended from Harrison's bullet, Evangeline had systematically dismantled every barrier the palace had tried to erect between us. She'd sat through countless meetings with diplomats and investigators, always clarifyingthat any decisions about our future would include both of us. Her mother, shaken by how close she'd come to losing us both, had gradually stopped fighting what she could no longer deny.
Now, watching her breathe deeply of the pine-scented breeze, I understood. After everything we'd been through—the shooting, the revelations, the long nights of recovery—we both needed this. Just us, away from cameras and protocols and the weight of the crown she now wore.
"How does it feel?" I asked, gesturing vaguely toward the palace visible through the trees. "Having your mother's blessing for the first time since this all began?"
She was quiet for a moment, considering. "Strange. Revolutionary. After everything that happened in London, she finally understands that love isn't a weakness to be managed—it's a strength that can save lives."
She squeezed my hand. This simple action had become a way we would have conversations in silence when our voices could not be heard. A habit picked up from the hospital — the hospital I clawed my way back to the person who puts air in my lungs, the person who shared every beat of my heart. The person who took all the noise and darkness away that plagued me from army years.
I clawed my way back to the person who was my sunrise and my moonlight.
"She told me yesterday that she'd been wrong to interfere, that watching you take a bullet made her realise what really mattered."
I stopped walking, turning to face her fully. Even after all this time, she took my breath away. The afternoon light caught the gold in her hair, and her eyes—those eyes that had seen me at my worst and somehow still loved me—held that familiar spark of mischief.
"What?" she asked, noting my stare.
"Just thinking about how lucky I am." I pulled her closer, my hands settling on her waist. "How close I came to losing this. Losing you."
"You didn't lose me." Her voice was soft but firm. "You'll never lose me."
The words hit me square in the chest, as they had every day since I'd woken up to find her crying over my hospital bed. This woman—this incredible, impossible woman—loved me. Had chosen me despite everything.
I backed her against the trunk of an ancient oak, my mouth finding hers in a kiss that tasted of freedom and forever. She melted against me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I felt that familiar fire ignite between us.
"Naughty Mr. Banks, but I want you inside me," she breathed against my lips, and the way she said my name—like a prayer, like a promise—undid me completely.
My hands slipped beneath her blouse, finding warm skin. She gasped, arching into my touch. "Someone could see," she whispered, but her actions contradicted her words as she pulled me closer.
"There's no one here," I assured her, my voice low and urgent. "I made sure of it. The security perimeter is half a mile away, and I chose this spot specifically." "We're completely alone, Princess. It's just us."
"What are you doing to me?" she asked.
"I plan to worship you." My teeth grazed the side of her ear as my words came out. "This little walk has made me a little parched, and, well, I am still a patient in recuperation. I need to keep my fluids up".
I could not help but let a smirk spread across my face as I lowered myself gently to the woodland floor. My knees found themselves stable in the scattered branches and moss that acted as a cushion.
The vision of her backed against that old oak tree, her breathing becoming rapid. I loved seeing her in this state of arousal, knowing her restraint was hanging by a thread, but not wanting to disobey me by moving. She knew what would happen if she did that; I still had to mark her arse cheek to complement the one I left before.
I heard her breath catch as I pressed against her, my hands skimming down her sides, to the hem of her skirt.
"Is this what you want?" I asked, my voice rough with desire.
"Yes," she whispered, pressing her arse against the tree. "Please, James," she begged
I lifted her skirt, my fingers finding the edge of her knickers. The soft lace was already damp, and I groaned at the evidence of her desire. "Hold on to the tree," I commanded softly, and she obeyed, her palms flat against the bark.
I ordered her to envision what I was planning to do to her. Fuck, I was hard as a rock; my cock was leaking pre-cum.
Twisting my fingers around the saturated crotch, my fingers brushing against her already throbbing and swollen clit, I ripped her knickers off, so she was bare for me. Evangeline gasped when I tossed her torn panties on the ground.
"Was that really necessary?" she asked, her breathing shallow.
