– Continued (Wedding Night)
Amara's POV
His lips were fire.
Soft, but deliberate. A contrast to the man who ruled the world with unshakable command. When Chris kissed her, it wasn't the kiss of a ruler — it was the kiss of a man starved for something real… something only she could give him.
Amara melted into it at first, but she wasn't the type to stay passive for long. Her hands curled behind his neck, fingers threading through the edges of his hair as she kissed him back — not as a soldier, not as a strategist, but as the woman he had chosen to share a crown with.
His hand slid to her waist — firm, confident — and in one fluid movement, Chris lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
She gasped, barely pulling her lips away from his. "Still carrying me like a mission?"
"No," he said, his voice low and raw. "Like a vow."
He crossed the chamber, every step echoing with the weight of royalty and desire. He laid her down gently onto the bed, like she was something sacred. Something he would worship, not control.
Amara's eyes locked onto his. For once, there were no layers of masks, no hierarchy between them. Just man and woman. Husband and wife.
"I've killed for this empire," she whispered, her voice trembling with something unfamiliar — vulnerability. "Bled for you. Lied, buried truths, made enemies. But tonight… I don't want to be a soldier."
Chris knelt over her, his face close, forehead resting gently on hers.
"You won't be," he murmured. "Tonight, you're mine. And I'm yours. No thrones between us."
His fingers trailed down her collarbone, slow, reverent, like he was memorizing her shape. Her heartbeat thundered, not from fear, but from the realization that this was the only man who truly saw her beyond the armor — and still wanted her completely.
The room seemed to disappear — the palace, the empire, the noise, even the whispers of Skylar, Christiana, Rheina, and every lingering shadow.
There was only this moment.
Only him.
Only her.
And in the stillness that followed, where skin met skin and breath tangled in breath, Amara didn't feel like a warrior anymore.
She felt… loved. Claimed. Chosen.
And she gave herself to him — fully, fiercely, without hesitation.
For once, it wasn't a conquest.
It was home.
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