In The Ring Of Love

40. Close Enough

We got out of rehearsal earlier than expected, which was odd.

"Don't you think it's a little weird?" Clara asks, falling into step beside me as we exited the studio. Her ponytail was a little messy, but damn she looks hot

"That we're leaving an hour early?" I glance at her, shrugging. "Yeah, it's strange. I think something's going on with Madame Dubois."

Because if there's one thing I know, it's that Madame Dubois does not cut rehearsals short. Ballet is her religion, her everything. Sure, she has a soft spot for us too, but discipline? Perfection? That's her love language.

This was unusual, especially since it's been happening for the past week.

"Do you think she's..." Clara's voice drops conspiratorially, her eyes sparkling like she's about to share state secrets. "Dating someone?"

I stop mid-step and gape at her. "Madame Dubois? Dating? Clara!"

"What?!" She grins, clearly delighted by my reaction. "It would make sense! Maybe she's sneaking out to meet someone after class."

I bite back a laugh, imagining our strict, elegant instructor sitting across from some guy at a romantic café. "Please. The woman probably dreams in pliés and pointe shoes."

Clara laughs, but then her expression shifts into something wicked, and I instantly know I'm in trouble.

"What?" I narrow my eyes.

"Oh, nothing," she says innocently, which is Clara-speak for everything. Then she sings it out, dragging the words in the most dramatic tone ever: "Where's the trooophy? He just comes running towardsss youuu."

It was Xavier's match yesterday, and since he won, he's another another one next week.

I mean, yeah? He obviously won. He's The Ring Lord for a reason.

She claps her hands together, pretending to faint. "The way Xavier Hayes, every girl's dream guy ran straight past the cameras, past the reporters, past the actual trophy just to get to you. Iconic."

Yup, just after winning? Xavier straight up ran to me.

He jumped across the ropes, past everything just to get to me.

I decided to play along now.

I cross my arms, leaning back with a smirk. "Iconic, huh? Yeah, I guess it was pretty iconic." I raise my brows, letting the words hang in the air. "But really, can you blame him? Look at me."

I spin dramatically on the sidewalk, hand flailing a little too far and accidentally knocking a passing cyclist's bag off their shoulder. "Oh, sorry-"

Clara groans, facepalming. "I am looking at you."

I ignore her, spinning back to strike a deliberately over-the-top pose. "Poise, grace, strength... dangerously irresistible. Honestly, it's a public service that he's my boyfriend. Someone has to protect the world from too much perfection."

Clara raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "He's got his hands full."

"Well, since we're off early, why don't we surprise our boyfriends?" Clara grins. "Logan might be at his studio right now, so I'll go check on him!"

I glance toward the gym across the street, a smile tugging at my lips.

Xavier's there, no doubt breaking a sweat and looking way too good while doing it.

"Mhm." I say, and we hug quickly before parting ways.

I adjust my bag on my shoulder and start walking to the gym, heart racing with excitement.

I walk into the gym, and then I spot him in the ring.

He's sparring with someone. Every punch is sharp, precise, hard enough to make the air itself flinch. His muscles flex just right, sweat catching the light, jaw set with that stubborn, determined line that makes my stomach do backflips. Perfect.

Oh, not to mention he's grown a slight stubble. He looks handsome as fuck!

The match ends, of course, with him winning effortlessly. He raises his gloves once, just a flicker of triumph in his eyes, and then he spots me.

My heart skips. I walk to the ring, trying to keep my stride casual, but my cheeks are warming. He smiles, that grin that makes every bad day vanish, and I throw him a little wave.

He leans down against the ropes, arms resting casually, and his voice cuts straight through my brain. "You look beautiful."

I glance at myself, messy ponytail, simple fit, no makeup, and I grin. "Well, thank you. You don't look bad yourself."

I mean it. He looks so perfect. I could just tie a ribbon and kiss him everywhere-

"Wait here. I'll take a shower, change, and be back in five." Xavier says, flashing that effortless smile. I nod, settling against the wall and letting my eyes wander but they don't wander far.

Because then I see the guy who lost to Xavier in that brutal match.

Xavier won, but at what cost? His knuckles are cut, a few scratches on his arms, little reminders of the fight's intensity. My hands itch to clean them, but of course, I do something a little reckless instead.

I step forward, straightening my shoulders. My voice is sharp, protective, even a little dangerous. "Hey. You're the one who hit my boyfriend?"

I mean, how does Xavier do it so effortlessly? How does he make it look like nothing? I don't care. Even I can be fierce. Even I can give "touch him and die" vibes. Hopefully.

The guy smirks, leaning casually against the wall, completely unbothered. "Yeah? Any problem with that?"

I take a step closer, letting my eyes flash, daring him to underestimate me. "Problem? You just made one."

You've got this, Amara. You're a ballerina. grace, strength, precision. Show him!

The guy tosses me a pair of gloves. I catch them instinctively. "It'd be hella fun to at least make the Ring Lord's girl go down." He teases

Shit. What did I just get myself into?

"Uhm, sure?" I say, stepping into the ring, forcing confidence into my voice.

Do you get deja vu?

This is where Xavier and I sparred once. Where I... well, bit his shoulder. But that's different, because Xavier and I-

"Come on, throw the punch," he interrupts, smirking creepily, leaning just close enough to make me uncomfortable. "I'm waiting."

"Not happening."Xavier's voice cuts through the tension.

He steps into the ring, eyes blazing with warning. His stance is protective and deadly.

The guy freezes. My heart skips, and I can't help the grin that spreads across my face.

He grabs the gloves from my hands, his fingers brushing mine, and just like that-the guy blinks, completely caught off guard, and steps back like he suddenly remembers who he's dealing with.

Xavier doesn't even look mad; it's that calm, dangerous kind of confidence that makes my heart skip. Then, he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close. The heat from his body hits me, and I can't help but lean into him

He tilts my chin up with a single finger, forcing my gaze to meet his. His voice is low, steady, but it vibrates through me like a promise. "Look at me, Amara."

He looks into my eyes like they're the only thing keeping him sane.

"If anything" His thumb brushes the edge of my jaw, "It's me who protects you. Not the other way around."

"But-" I protest, but he interrupts me gently

"Shh." The word is barely above a whisper, but it's enough to stop my words "All you have to do" He leans in, his breath warm against my cheek, "is be my Swan. Just don't stop being mine."

His hand at my waist tightens, firm and possessive, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back that make my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

I want to tell him I want to protect him too, that I want to give him the same sense of safety he gives me. He's always there, shielding me, making me feel like I'm the center of his world.

But what have I really done for him? Just bought us matching things, little gestures that feel so small compared to everything he gives me.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yours, Swan?" His voice drags me back, deep and husky, and when I look up, his eyes are already on me, reading me like I'm an open book.

I swallow, his question pulling at the knot in my chest.

My voice comes out softer than I intend, almost trembling. "You do so much for me, Xavier. You fight for me, you make me feel safe, like nothing in the world can touch me when you're there."

His brows pull together, but his grip never loosens.

"And I-" I look down for a second, then back at him, because he deserves the truth in my eyes. "What do I do for you? Buy you matching stuff? Stand on the sidelines and cheer? It feels so.. so small compared to everything you give me."

His jaw tightens, the bruise there shifting with the motion. For a heartbeat, he says nothing. Just stares at me like he can't believe what he's hearing.

Then, slowly, dangerously, he leans in.

"You think I want big things from you, Swan?" His voice is a growl now, low and rough against my skin as his lips brush the shell of my ear.

"All I want" he whispers, his mouth so close I can feel every word, "is you, Amara."

I look at him, my lips part, before I bite them.

"Gosh, Amara," he murmurs as his gaze drops to my lips. "I could kiss you until I erase every insecurity out of you."

What do you say to something like that? When his eyes burn with so much truth, so much want?

"Say the word," he murmurs, voice low enough to make my pulse trip over itself. His thumb traces my jaw, slow, deliberate, like he owns me already. "And I'll do it. Right here."

The few people scattered around the gym pretend to focus on their bags, their ropes. They know better than to interrupt the Ring Lord. So they leave.

"Xavier, kiss me." I whisper.

In one swift move, his arms lock around my waist as my legs instinctively wrap around his torso as he pins me against the ropes, the coarse tension biting into my back. My hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

And then he kisses me.

Not gentle. Not careful. But wild, desperate, like every second he's had to hold back has been killing him slowly.

His mouth claims mine with bruising intensity, his tongue sweeping in, stealing every ounce of oxygen and sense I had left.

The groan that rumbles from his chest sends heat curling deep in my stomach, and I melt against him, clutching like I'll drown without him.

I taste the coppery tang of blood from his split lip, mixed with him—warm, intoxicating, dangerous. He bites at my lip, a sharp warning, before deepening the kiss again, devouring me whole.

When he finally tears his mouth from mine, his forehead rests against mine, breaths harsh and uneven, eyes blazing like fire and sin.

"Never," he growls softly, voice trembling with restraint, "never doubt what you mean to me."

"I will not."

"Good girl." His grin is sinful, wicked, like the devil just learned how to smirk. His thumb drags across my swollen lower lip, slow, teasing, and he whispers, "I knew the French were good at kissing."

My breath stutters, but I tilt my chin up anyway, giving him a look that's equal parts daring and sinful. "Tu n'as encore rien vu." I murmur, my French accent curling around the words like silk. (You haven't seen anything yet.)

"Wait, have you kissed other girls?" I ask him as I realize what he meant.

I thought he'd be teasing but his voice softens, "No, you're my first Amara." he shakes his head, "My only one."

──────????°? ? ?°?? ??──────

"Wait in my room," he had said earlier, that low, commanding tone that brooks no argument. "I have something to do. Don't wander."

Like a good girl I wait.

Everything is set. Fairy lights drape across the railing, casting a soft glow over the space, just like I did before. Scented candles of varying heights line the table, the sweet, warm smell of vanilla mixing with the sharp chill of the evening air.

I spread the tablecloth over the small dining table I'd dragged closer to the railing so she could see the skyline while we eat. A bottle of red wine, two wine glasses glint in the candlelight, untouched. Everything perfect. Everything ready. Except for one thing—her.

I push open the door.

She's wearing the white satin bodycon I picked out for her, and my chest tightens before I even realize it.

The dress is backless, the delicate threads tied at her nape, leaving the curve of her shoulders and the elegant line of her back bare.

It hugs her in all the right places, silk catching the light as it drapes over her hips.

The slit along her thigh shows off her toned legs.

Thin gold hoops, delicate rings, and that swan pendant resting just above her collarbone catch the light and reflect it back at me like sparks. I notice the bracelet we bought together is missing.

I can't move. I don't want to. My hands clench at my sides, the air suddenly too thin. She looks breathtaking. Absolutely untouchable.

God, how beautiful she looks.

Every part of me wants to cross the distance between us, to take her in my arms and make sure she knows exactly how mine she is. And I will.

Because she's mine.

And just because I can, I step forward. My hands rise to cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones lightly, tilting her chin so her eyes lock with mine.

"Amara..." My voice drops low, rough with need. "are you trying to kill me?"

Our noses touch, just barely, and I can feel her breath mingling with mine.

She tilts her head, that cheeky, infuriating smile tugging at her lips. "Should I have not worn this?"

I inhale sharply, heart thundering. "You think I could survive not seeing you like this?" My thumbs trace her jaw again, slowly, deliberately. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"Well, I have no idea," she says, tilting her head up at me, that mischievous smile in place. "Show me."

I lift her carefully, bridal style, mindful of the satin fabric and the slit of her dress. Her small smile against my chest sends heat straight through me.

The balcony is just a few steps away, but it feels like we're suspended in another world. When I set her down gently, her eyes widen, catching the fairy lights, the flickering candles, the skyline stretching endlessly before us.

"Xavier.." Her voice is breathless, tinged with awe.

I let my hands linger on her waist, thumb brushing over the curve of her hip.

"This is beautiful." Her smile makes my chest tighten in a way that almost stops me from breathing.

I catch myself staring, completely captivated. The city sprawls below, but all I see is her and for a moment, I forget what it feels like to breathe, because she's in my arms, smiling at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the world.

I pull out the chair for her. "Sit, Swan." My voice is low, gentle, but carries the weight of command she's learned to trust. She perches on the chair, legs crossed elegantly, eyes still sparkling from the balcony view.

I pour the wine into our glasses, the deep red catching the candlelight. The scent drifts upward, mingling with the vanilla from the candles and the cool night air.

Tray in hand, I approach her carefully. Pasta, perfectly cooked, tossed in the sauce I know she loves, a little extra parmesan on top. Garlic bread on the side, and a small salad I threw together quickly.

She bites her lip, but her fingers twitch to lift her fork like she's trying not to be overwhelmed. "Xavier, this is perfect."

I slide into my chair opposite her, keeping my gaze locked on her. Every little gesture she makes— the way she picks up the fork, the small tilt of her head, the way her hair catches the candlelight — reminds me that nothing else in the world matters except her.

My hand slides across the table, finding hers effortlessly. I curl my fingers around hers and lift her delicate hand, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to her knuckles.

"M'lady," I murmur, letting the words linger between us like a promise.

After we finish eating, I stand and gently move the table aside, creating space on the balcony for just the two of us. The fairy lights twinkle around us, the candles flicker, and the city skyline stretches endlessly beyond.

I extend a hand toward her, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. My voice is low, velvet-smooth, carrying that familiar mixture of command and tenderness.

"Amara," I murmur, eyes locked on hers, "may I have this dance?"

Her lips part slightly, surprise and delight flickering across her features. The softest laugh escapes her, like a melody meant only for me. "You don't ask for much, do you, Xav?"

"Not when it's you." I reply, letting my hand linger, warm and possessive, until she places hers in mine.

She lets me lead her into the center of the balcony.

I hold her close, letting the sway of our bodies fall into a slow rhythm, her soft laughter mingling with the hum of the city below.

My hands slide over her waist, brushing against the satin of her dress, feeling every curve, memorizing every inch.

Her head tilts toward me, and I can't resist the temptation. My lips press along her jawline, a teasing, feather-light kiss. I feel her shiver and catch the smallest hint of her ticklish reaction.

I smirk, low and dangerous, and press my mouth to the sensitive curve of her neck. She gasps, clutching my shoulder instinctively, tapping me lightly with one hand—but I can feel her pulse racing beneath my lips. I deepen the kiss, leaving a mark below her ear.

My Swan's ticklish.

She squeezes me tighter, breath hitching, laughter and soft protests spilling together. "Xavier!"

I hum against her skin, dragging the kisses down her neck, my hands steady on her back, keeping her pressed to me.

I pull back slightly, my hands linger at her waist.

It's a pleasure to have her in my arms, to feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, to trace the delicate line of her jaw, the curve of her waist, the soft sway of her hips. Every inch of her is a miracle I get to hold, a treasure I get to claim.

I feel blessed to worship her with nothing but my eyes, my hands, my lips.

I can't believe that someone so pure is mine. Mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to adore in ways words could never capture.

"Thank you, Xav for all this." she whispers, suddenly, her voice soft, almost reverent. Then she turns back to the skyline, though I can see the curve on her lips.

"You don't have to thank me, Amara."

Her head tilts back to me. She meets my gaze again, and for a moment, the world disappears.

Her eyes are fixed on me as if I am the only soul alive.

There's awe and vulnerability in them, a quiet surrender, but also mischief dancing just beneath the surface.

I swear the air itself bends around the intensity of her gaze.

"Then?" she asks.

I cup her face again, thumbs brushing along the curve of her jaw.

"Just keep looking at me like that."

ahh, my exams finally ended but i have decided to take a break cause i'm honestly so tired and want to officially give up on life-

also, vote and comment. it will mean a lot 333