Chapter 23
AXEL
I can't stay away.
I've been pacing my room for two hours, trying to convince myself to leave her alone. To let the anger settle, let us both cool down, give this situation the space it probably needs. To be rational and measured like I've trained myself to be for twenty-five years.
But I can't. Because underneath the fury that's still simmering in my chest, there's fear. Raw, visceral terror that I almost lost her tonight.
Those men had their hands on her. Were going to kill her, probably torture her first to make it hurt more, to make the message clearer. And I would have been too late. Thirty seconds later, and she would have been gone, dragged out that side exit into a waiting van.
The thought makes me physically sick.
I find myself outside her door at midnight, hand raised to knock but not quite making contact with the wood. My knuckles are inches from the surface, hovering there while I wage an internal war.
This is a bad idea. Walk away. Deal with this in the morning when you're both calmer.
But I don't walk away.
I knock, the sound loud in the quiet hallway.
Silence. Then footsteps, soft and hesitant. The door opens, and Aurora's standing there in pajamas, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her face is blotchy, her hair a mess, and she's never looked more beautiful to me.
We stare at each other for a long moment, neither knowing what to say.
"I can't do this anymore," I say finally, the words rough.
"Do what?"
"Fight with you. Walk away angry. Pretend I'm not terrified every single second that something's going to happen to you."
"Axel..."
"Can I come in?"
She steps aside without answering. I enter, and she closes the door behind me with a soft click that sounds too loud.
The room's a mess. Tissues scattered across the bed like fallen snow. Her laptop open on the desk to what looks like financial reports, the same ones she was working on earlier. She's been working while crying, trying to distract herself from everything that happened.
Just like me. I've been reviewing security protocols for two hours, making lists of changes, planning new defenses. Anything to avoid thinking about how close I came to losing her.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice small. "For sneaking out. For putting myself in danger. For being so reckless and stupid and..."
"I'm sorry too." The words feel foreign in my mouth, unfamiliar. I don't apologize often. Can't remember the last time I did. "For yelling at you. For trying to control everything. For making you feel trapped in this house."
We're standing in the middle of the room, not touching, the air between us heavy with everything we haven't said. With everything we're too afraid to say.
"I was so scared tonight," she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself. "When those men grabbed me. When that guy said you would watch me die. I thought... I thought that was it. That I was going to die and never see you again, never get to tell you..."
She stops, doesn't finish.
"I know. I felt it." I step closer, drawn to her like gravity. "The second Viktor told me you'd left the estate, I felt it in my gut. Something wrong. I drove like a maniac to that club. Broke every traffic law. Ran red lights. Because I knew something was wrong. Knew you were in danger."
"How did you even know where I was?"
"Security cameras caught you leaving with your friends. We tracked Chloe's driver's GPS." I run a hand through my hair, still restless with residual fear and adrenaline. "Aurora, you can't do things like that. Can't just disappear without telling me. Not in this world."
"I know. I know that now." She's still hugging herself, looking small and vulnerable. "But I can't live in a cage either, Axel. Even a golden one with beautiful furniture and gourmet food. I'll go insane."
"I don't want to cage you."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want you safe. I want our baby safe. I want to not wake up every morning terrified that today's the day I lose you." My voice breaks on the last word, emotion I usually keep buried forcing its way out.
She looks up at me, and there are fresh tears in her eyes, tracking down her already tear-stained face. "I'm terrified too. Of being trapped. Of losing myself. Of becoming someone I don't recognize just to survive in your world. Of turning into someone who's afraid of everything."
"Then we figure it out together." I close the remaining distance between us, cup her face in my hands.
Her skin is soft, warm, real. "No more me making unilateral decisions.
No more you sneaking around behind my back.
We talk. We compromise. We find a middle ground that keeps you safe without making you feel like a prisoner. "
"You think we can do that?"
"I don't know. But I'm willing to try if you are."
She searches my face for something, her dark eyes moving over my features like she's memorizing them. Whatever she finds there makes her nod slowly.
"Okay. We try."
Then she's kissing me.
It's different from our other kisses. Not angry or desperate or trying to prove a point. Soft. Almost tentative. Like we're both afraid of breaking this fragile truce we've just built.
I kiss her back gently, my hands still cradling her face like she's something precious. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, her hands coming up to grip my shirt, fisting in the fabric.
"Axel," she breathes against my mouth.
"What do you need?"
"You. I need you."
"You have me."
I pick her up carefully, mindful of her pregnant state even though she's not showing yet. Carry her to the bed like she weighs nothing. Set her down like she's something precious and breakable. Because to me, she is.
"We're going to do this differently tonight," I say, kneeling beside the bed so I'm at eye level with her.
"How?"
"Slowly. No anger. No proving points. No fighting for dominance. Just us."
I start with her pajama top, unbuttoning it with deliberate slowness. She watches me, her breathing shallow and quick, as I reveal her skin inch by inch. The fabric parts, and I push it off her shoulders.
"Beautiful," I murmur, letting my eyes roam over her. "So fucking beautiful."
Her pajama pants come next. I hook my fingers in the waistband, pull them down slowly along with her underwear. Then she's bare before me, completely exposed, and I take a moment just to look. To really see her.
"What?" she asks, sounding self-conscious, her hands moving to cover herself.
I catch her wrists gently. "Don't. I'm memorizing you. Every curve. Every mark. Every inch. I want to remember this moment."
I start at her ankle, pressing a kiss there. Then I work my way up her calf, taking my time, feeling her shiver under my touch. She's trembling, her breath catching with each kiss.
"Axel, you don't have to..."
"I want to." I kiss her inner thigh, feel her muscles jump. "I want to taste every part of you. Make you feel good. That's all I want right now. Just to make you feel good."
My mouth moves higher. She spreads her legs without me having to ask, giving me access. I kiss her hip bone, her lower stomach where our baby is growing, everywhere except where she's starting to ache for me. I can see it in the way she's breathing, the way her hips are shifting restlessly.
"Please," she whispers, the word barely audible.
"Please what?"
"Stop teasing."
"I'm not teasing. I'm savoring every second of this."
But I give her what she wants. My mouth finds her center, and she gasps, her hips lifting off the bed involuntarily.
"Oh God..."
I use my tongue slowly, taking my time, mapping every fold and valley. Learning what makes her gasp versus what makes her moan. What makes her fingers tighten in my hair versus what makes her thighs tremble against my shoulders.
"Axel... that feels..."
"Tell me. I want to hear you say it."
"So good. It feels so good."
I slide one finger inside her while my tongue continues working her clit. She's already wet, her body opening for me easily. I add a second finger, curling them upward to find that spot inside her that I know drives her crazy.
"Right there," she gasps, her back arching. "Right there, please don't stop."
I don't. I work her with my mouth and fingers, steady and relentless but not rushed. Not trying to make her come quickly. Just building her pleasure gradually, layer by layer.
"I'm close," she pants, her fingers tightening painfully in my hair. "I'm so close..."
"Then let go. Come on my tongue, baby. I want to taste it."
The orgasm rolls through her, less violent than usual but somehow deeper, more profound. She's trembling, gasping my name, her whole body flushed with pleasure.
I work her through it until she's too sensitive, until she's pushing weakly at my head. Then I kiss my way back up her body, taking my time with her stomach, her ribs, her breasts. Leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites.
"That was..." She can't seem to finish the sentence, still breathless.
"Just the beginning."
I strip off my clothes while she watches, her eyes dark with renewed desire, her pupils blown wide. When I'm naked, I settle between her legs, but I don't push inside yet. Just position myself there, waiting.
"Look at me," I say softly.
She does. Our eyes lock, and there's something in her gaze I haven't seen before. Vulnerability. Trust. Something deeper that I'm afraid to name.
"This isn't just sex," I tell her, needing her to understand. "Not anymore. Not for me."
"What is it then?"
"I don't know. But it's more. You're more to me than just the mother of my child or the woman I'm sleeping with."
I push inside slowly, watching her face the entire time. Her eyes widen, her lips part on a silent gasp, but she doesn't look away. Doesn't break eye contact.
"You feel perfect," I breathe, bottoming out inside her. "Like you were made for me."
"Maybe I was."
I start moving. Slow, deep strokes that make her breath hitch with each one. No urgency. No desperation. Just connection. Just us, moving together in the dim light.