Chapter 15
Tobias
Tobias tipped his head back and groaned. “Holy shit.”
Leila was sucking his cock. A part of him couldn’t believe it, would’ve called his own bluff had he not seen Her naked in his lap, mouth wrapped around his length. He’d had plenty of fine mornings in his lifetime, but this one, by far, was the best.
He gripped the sheets, heels digging into the mattress. “Fuck, Leila.”
Something mischievous glimmered in Her eyes. She seemed to enjoy his vulgarities, though he couldn’t control his voice even if he tried. Her hand went to work massaging his balls, and that coupled with Her plump, wet lips sent swells of heat undulating through him.
The magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on him—that the holy deity of Thessen was dragging Her mouth up his shaft like it was covered in sugar. He watched Her as She worked, and when She swirled Her tongue around his head without breaking Her gaze on him, the beginning of the end built within him.
“Oh my God.” He closed his eyes, blinding himself to Leila’s labor of love. All that remained was the pressure building within him, climbing higher. “Fuck, I’m so close . . .”
She moved faster, a woman on a mission, and soon enough he was spilling over, devoid of control. Pleasure catapulted through him, a powerful tide crashing against land. No doubt he’d uttered some garbled nonsense, but all he could focus on was the sensation exploding internally, overtaking him.
Just as the ecstasy became too much to bear, it faded, leaving him with his surging lungs and a limp sack of a body. After a quiet moment of recovery, he opened his eyes to find Leila nestled at his side, wiping Her lips.
Tasting Leila had been the most arousing experience of his life—until She’d tasted him.
“That was amazing,” he said.
“Was it?”
“Yes. The best thing ever.” Panting, he gazed up at the ceiling, luxuriating in the lingering sensations. “Come here.” He pulled Leila on top of him, kissing Her hard. “You’re a goddess, You know that?”
She laughed and nuzzled against his neck, leaving him with the heady floral scent of Her hair.
His breathing slowly normalized, though the thrill of the moment lingered, flickering like sparks against his flesh.
It was a truly perfect day. Never mind that they were hidden in a brothel, asylum seekers with no guarantee for tomorrow.
In the midst of his lustful haze, their quandary felt more like an adventure—a daring secret shared between lovers.
“Should I feel bad?”
Leila picked at the edge of their sheet, Her gaze distant.
Tobias didn’t need Her to explain. As soon as day had broken, She’d told him of Her meeting with Isa as well as Her decision to bypass the holder’s will.
It was a bold move, another risk added to their unending list. Had it been his family, he’d surely have done the same.
“You’re saving nearly fifty lives,” Tobias said. “Isa’s pride is a fair sacrifice.”
“Still, it seems like something Brontes would do.”
“Brontes would kill Isa. I don’t see You holding a blade to their throat.”
Leila shook Her head. “What if My staff arrives and Isa turns them away?”
“You said it Yourself—You are queen. Your word is law. We’ll make them see reason.”
“How? By holding a blade to their throat?”
The severity of Her words bore down on him, as did the look in Her eyes—a mix of strength and indecision, as if the war in Her realm had ravaged Her mind.
“We have three days.” Tobias took Her hands in his. “We’ll find a way.”
Exhaling, She rested Her head against his chest, the silence between them soft and content.
He watched as Her body rose and fell with his breathing, Her fingertips painting his skin as they often did.
Perhaps She could see his colors then. He wasn’t quite sure if comfortable was an emotion, nor could he imagine how it appeared in Her eyes.
What was it like to see the world so differently from everyone else?
“I have a question,” Tobias said. “A Savior question.”
A smirk played at Leila’s lips. “Is that right?”
“How exactly does the whole . . . divine pregnancy work?”
Leila started, propping Herself onto Her elbow. “You want to have a baby?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“We’re on the run. Fleeing for our lives. Living in a brothel.”
Tobias laughed. “I’m well aware.”
“Not to mention we’re very young with plenty of years ahead of us. I, for one, am by no means ready to be a mother.”
“Actually, I was wondering if I should ask one of the courtesans for bacca,” Tobias said. “Just in case.”
Leila sat frozen beside him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Oh.”
The rosiness of Leila’s cheeks spread through Her face.
It was endearing, how a woman adept at politics and murder was flustered by talk of intimacy.
Perhaps She thought him presumptuous, but they were promised to be wed, and one day or another, they’d be making love with far more than their hands and tongues.
She had said it Herself—they weren’t ready for a child, and he’d consume an entire barrel of bacca if it meant laying with Her without worry.
“Milo’s brother labored for a bacca mill, You know.
” Tobias offered a smile, hoping to ease Leila’s nerves.
“He had an endless supply at his disposal. Milo stole a handful of berries ‘just in case.’ He kept them in his pocket so long, they rotted. The man was all talk. No one wanted to fuck him. We all knew it.”
Leila chuckled, avoiding his gaze. “Well, I don’t think a pocket full of bacca will be necessary.” Her flush deepened, nearly the rich cerise color of the berries themselves.
“I was just curious. Each Savior has only one child. Always a daughter time and time again. I assumed there must be something to it, is all.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Something magical.”
She matched his smile with Her own. “I get to choose.”
“Pardon?”
“The Savior,” She said. “When She decides She’s ready, it’s done.”
“You just . . . become pregnant?”
“No.” Leila rolled Her eyes. “The seed needs to be planted, of course. But—”
“She wills that seed to be the seed.”
“Precisely.”
“And the father has no say?”
“It’s not his belly.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Tobias thought over Leila’s words. “You’d tell me, right? When You decide You’re ready?”
“I’m not ready until we’re both ready.”
“I’m indisputably and unequivocally not ready.”
“Good.”
Her grin melted through him, and She was once again free at his side, hair cascading over his shoulder as She rested Her cheek on his chest. This was his favorite version of Her—a vision of power and brilliance at peace.
“So, wait,” Tobias said. “Does this mean that when we . . . further our explorations . . . we never have to worry about—?”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
Her mischievous glint reappeared, coaxing him to pull Her closer.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t You?” He gave Her a long, yearning kiss, Her tongue against his a tempting reminder of all it could do.
But when their lips parted, Leila’s gaze drifted toward nothing at all, certainly not Tobias, and his pride wilted.
“What are You thinking?”
“It’s strange, is all.” She looked down at Her hands.
The drapes were closed shut and Her skin wasn’t glowing, but She eyed Her palms as if the magic within them was on full display.
“Some of it is innate. From the moment I was born, I just knew. Understood My power. But other things still elude Me. Like My body is something separate. Something foreign.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m not exactly human.”
“Well then, if You think about it, what we’re doing here between the sheets is unnatural. Filthy, even.”
She laughed. “Tobias, stop.”
“We’re barbaric. Regular donkey fuckers.”
“Are you calling Me a donkey?”
“Not just any donkey—the most glorious, gorgeous donkey I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Her laughter roared before fading against his lips, Her body pressed to his where it belonged. A whisper of silk tickled his neck as She sifted his hair through Her fingers—Her promise, an ever-present reminder that they were one.
“I would like that one day, You know,” he whispered. “To be a father.”
“Good,” She said. “Because law dictates that as our future sovereign, you haven’t much of a choice.”
Her words sent him rigid.
Our future sovereign.
He’d known that for ages, yet somehow it was startling.
Leila was the Savior, and they were to be wed.
Naturally, that came with a title of his own—Sovereign of Thessen, second in command to Her Holiness’s rule.
He wasn’t just to be Leila’s husband. He would be Her advisor, Her colleague in politics, a leader in his own right.
Leila would always sit upon the holy throne, but in some adjacent way, Thessen would also be under his domain.
He hadn’t considered that during the tournament, certain he’d never survive.
But after so much danger and chaos, he had to sit with the notion.
One day, if he were to live to see it, he’d wield power and responsibility he’d never known.
Red flashed in his periphery—his own wrist and the bow it carried. The ribbon promised so much more than marriage. He was promised to the whole of his realm, a duty he may or may not be worthy of.
“Is something wrong?”
Leila was watching him, concern etched across Her face.
“Nothing.” He threaded a strand of hair behind Her ear. “I’m just so happy You’re mine.”
A knock sounded at the door and Sabine welcomed herself inside. “Good day, lovebirds.” Her eyes flitted between the two of them—naked save for their shared sheet—and she smirked. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Leila said. “Is everything all right? Is it Isa?”
“Your presence is required on the second floor, Your Holiness. In the parlor.”
“I see.” Pulling on a robe, Leila abandoned their bed and dressed quickly. “Please excuse Me.”