31. Stay
Chapter thirty-one
Stay
That evening, I find myself standing in the dimly lit hallway, torn between choices I didn’t expect to have.
I’m not assigned a room this time. Oberon brought me straight to his chambers when we returned, and that was where we stayed.
But now, as the weight of the day settles on my shoulders, I’m not sure what to do.
Does he expect me to return to him? Has that unspoken arrangement become permanent? Or was it only temporary, a moment of solace in the chaos?
And, more than that, what do I even want?
The thought unsettles me. I’m not used to having choices like this, not used to having a place I can call my own.
I sigh and rub my temple, forcing my feet to move before I can overthink myself into oblivion. With each step toward his door, I remind myself that I have faced much worse things than this. I have fought for my life, endured torment, and stood against those who wished me dead.
Yet somehow, walking into his room without knowing if I belong there feels just as terrifying.
I linger outside the door, debating whether I should knock or just turn around, before I can decide, the door swings open, revealing Oberon standing there, his sharp gaze locking onto me.
His expression softens almost instantly, as if he were waiting for me. “Are you going to stand out there all night, or are you actually planning to come in?” he asks, amusement lacing his voice.
I let out a breath I don’t realize I am holding and roll my eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I was invited.”
Oberon lets out a low chuckle, stepping back to make room for me. "I’d say the bed is big enough for the both of us, but considering how much you like to take up space, I might need to reconsider."
I shoot him a glare, stepping inside. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to sleep peacefully? I could always go claim another room and let you toss and turn alone.”
Before I can walk past him, he reaches out, fingers grazing my wrist before curling around it gently.
The touch stops me in my tracks. When I meet his gaze, all traces of teasing are gone, replaced with something deeper.
“I want you here,” he says simply. “With me.” The words are quiet but firm, leaving no room for doubt.
I swallow, my chest tightening at the weight of his admission. My first instinct is to deflect, to make some dark, sarcastic remark about how dangerous that is for both of us. Instead, I let the truth slip out before I can stop it. “That's a terrible idea,” I murmur, though I don’t pull away.
Oberon smirks. “Probably.”
I let out a breathy sigh, shaking my head. “History has a way of proving that those who care about me don’t walk away unharmed.”
His grip on my wrist tightens just slightly, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against my skin. “I’ll take my chances.” He smiles softly. “Whatever comes with having you next to me. Good, bad, and everything in between.”
The humor in my chest fades, replaced by something heavier. Something I don’t have the words for.
He pulls me closer, his warmth chasing away the lingering doubts in my mind. “Stay,” he says again, softer this time, as if he already knows my answer.
And maybe he does because, despite everything, despite my fears and the voice in my head warning me this can only end in disaster, I still want to be here, with him.
He pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me with a quiet certainty, anchoring me to him. When his lips meet mine, it isn’t the feral, desperate hunger of before, the raw chaos that consumed us.
This kiss is different. Slower. Gentler. A quiet claiming rather than a conquest. His hands trace soothing patterns along my spine. There is no urgency, no battle of control, only the steady, unspoken promise that we are in this together.
The door clicks shut behind him, sealing us in together, locking out the rest of the world. His eyes, dark with need, pin me in place, and yet, I find myself moving toward him without thought, as if drawn by an invisible force neither of us can fight.
Gone is the gentleness of before, the restraint.
What replaces it is hunger, deep and all-consuming.
It coils in my chest, burning through me, making my breath shallow and my pulse wild.
He has a way of pulling something from me, something I didn't know existed, something reckless and wanting. The way he looks at me, the way his body moves with slow, deliberate purpose, makes me ache in ways I don’t understand.
His hands find my waist, gripping tight enough to make me gasp, and then he spins me, pressing me back against the bed.
The mattress meets my legs, but I don’t fall.
He holds me there, lingering in the tension, making me feel the weight of his presence, the heat of him.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp, his breath warm against my cheek.
“Then show me,” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice.
His lips curl into a dark, knowing smile, the kind of smile that promises everything and nothing all at once.
He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmurs, the words laced with something dangerously close to amusement.
But there is an edge to it, something sharp and wild.
A growl rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating through me as he crushes his lips to mine. The kiss is fire scorching and desperate, filled with an unspoken war between control and surrender. His hands roam my body, mapping and claiming, as though he needs to memorize every inch of me.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing all of him.
The kiss deepens, the gentleness replaced by a growing need that surges between us. The world outside disappears, leaving just the two of us, tangled together in a moment that neither of us can escape.
He growls low in his throat, his hands moving to my waist, urging me closer. His breath is hot against my skin as he nips at my neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh.
The simple act of him touching me, of him making me feel wanted, ignites something inside of me that I can’t ignore. The tension builds, slowly, steadily, like a storm gathering strength before it breaks.
Without breaking the kiss, he maneuvers me back onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, heat radiating between us.
I can’t think. I can barely breathe. All I can feel is him, his hands, his lips, his body, everything about him consuming me.
And it isn’t just the desire that burns between us.
It is something deeper, something more. His lips find mine again, the kiss urgent, and yet still laced with that underlying tenderness, as if he is reminding me of something, reminding me of who we are to each other.
The tension between us snaps, and we twist in the bed, limbs tangled, breath mingling in heated gasps. His hands press into my skin, his lips ghosting over my throat before trailing lower, marking a path only he can take.
He pulls away for just a moment, looking up at me from where his mouth was making its way slowly down my torso, his eyes locking onto mine, his gaze heavy, intense. “You’re mine,” he rasps, his voice rough with want.
The words send a thrill through me, and before I can even think, I respond, my hands threading through his hair. “And you are mine,” I breathe, the words a promise, a claim.
He purrs in delight at my readiness for him as he makes his way further down.
His throaty vibrations against my bud send a wave of euphoria through my body, his hands gripping my thighs tighter, lifting my ass from the bed to grant him better access, and for the first time, I’m not sure where he ends, and I begin.
All I know is that I am here, with him, and that nothing else matters.