Chapter 5

A L I N A

Magnus exhales sharply, his grip tightening slightly. “I need to know that you’re ready. Completely. Not just for the bond, but for everything that comes with it. The expectations, the scrutiny, the sacrifices. Once we start this, there’s no turning back.”

Alina steps away from the wall, voice low, teasing. “How about I give you a little convincing...” Her hands press against his chest as she walks him back. He doesn’t resist. His lips curve into a smirk as he lets her guide him until the backs of his knees meet the edge of the bed. He falls onto it with practised ease.

Now standing between his legs, she holds his gaze, slowly loosening the towel wrapped around her. It slides off, revealing smooth skin and a body that makes his breath catch. Her curves—full breasts, taut stomach, strong thighs—are on display, and she drags her hands over herself as if painting a promise onto her own skin.

Magnus watches, hungry. “You’re extremely good at... convincing,” he murmurs, eyes locked on her as his hands reach for her, sliding up her thighs, across her waist, and finally between her legs. Her breath hitches. She gasps as his fingers find her wet, teasing her, sliding into her slowly. His darkened eyes never leave hers.

“Mmm... I can see how much you missed me,” he groans, the sound rough and low, the kind that fuels the moan that tumbles from her lips. She leans down, grabbing his neck, breathing against his lips.

“You know I did,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. With a grin that borders on wicked, he grabs her and tosses her onto the bed. She lands with a bounce, dazed and aroused, watching as he rises and begins to undress. Slowly. Intentionally. Piece by piece, his clothes fall away to reveal a body cut from discipline and desire. Her teeth catch her bottom lip.

He climbs onto the bed, muscles flexing, knees parting hers as his hardened length presses against her entrance.

“Show me,” he whispers, and with no further warning, he thrusts into her—hard, deep, fast.

She cries out, his name slipping out in a breathless moan. “M-Magnus...” His hand wraps around her throat—not too hard, just enough—and he leans in, whispering filth into her ear as his hips slam into her, taking all of her as if proving a point...

. . . . .

Now, hours later, they walk the castle halls side by side.

Magnus moves with his usual quiet confidence, but there’s something softer about him now, an ease in his shoulders, a curl at the edge of his mouth. The possessive hand on Alina’s lower back lingers like a claim. Her body still hums from earlier. There’s an ache in her muscles, a flush on her skin, and every brush of his fingers against her dress reminds her that her parents might notice.

They will notice.

She glances at him. His golden hair falls just past his brow in tousled waves, his jaw sharp and clean, his blue eyes still gleaming with mischief. He tries to appear composed, but the smugness is impossible to hide. She rolls her eyes—but her lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

Magnus chuckles, voice low and rich. “You’re thinking too hard again, love.”

She doesn’t deny it. “Only because I know my parents will take one look at us and know exactly what we’ve been doing.”

He raises a brow. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” she fires back, immediate.

He leans down, voice grazing her skin like a caress. “You didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.”

She’s about to respond when they turn the corner into the grand hallway. The double doors to the dining hall stand open, spilling soft conversation and golden light into the corridor. Her steps falter—but only for a moment. Magnus’s hand urges her forward.

She smooths the fabric of her silver and black dress, tight and elegant, accentuating every curve. Her long white hair cascades in curls down her back. She walks with purpose, but inside, tension coils.

Inside the hall, chandeliers cast warm light across a long table adorned with silverware and crystal goblets. At the far end sit her parents—unmissable, unmistakable.

Lord Alinos Xalveria looks every inch the powerful ruler. His platinum-white hair shines like moonlight, his deep brown skin unlined, his presence commanding even in silence. His eyes—sharp, cutting—find Alina immediately. And narrow.

Lady Kaela, beside him, radiates elegance. Her silver hair is pinned high, her dark skin glows like starlight, but her gaze doesn’t fall on her daughter. No—it’s fixed on Magnus.

The tension is immediate, suffocating.

Magnus and Alina approach.

“Father. Mother,” Alina greets, voice even, eyes steady.

“Alina,” her father says. Polite. He's clearly on edge. His gaze flicks to Magnus, lingers just long enough to convey his displeasure, then returns to his daughter. “You’re late.”