(Romulus POV)
(R-18 Mature Scenes)
I left Zafira's chambers with measured steps and a face the palace had learned not to question.
Duty completed. Obligation satisfied. Nothing more.
The corridor beyond her door was cool, the air carrying the honest scent of stone and water instead of incense and ambition. I welcomed it, drawing a steady breath as I walked, telling my body what my mind already knew—that the night was finished, that control had been reclaimed.
But it was a lie.
The first warning came as a dull heat behind my eyes, a pressure that throbbed in time with my pulse. I slowed, fingers brushing the wall once for balance. The warmth that had been seeded by the wine did not fade as it should have; instead, it deepened, sinking inward like an ember buried too deep to smother.
Not arousal.
Not fatigue.
I knew this sensation.
My jaw tightened.
No.
