🔞🔞🔞🔞In the cold, obsidian halls of the Crowley Fortress, the atmosphere had shifted. Alistair stood in the center of Callista’s chambers, his presence looming like a mountain of shadow.
He had reached for her with the intent to dominate, to force the same submission he saw in every other woman who crossed his path.
But Callista had only smirked—a cold, sharp expression that lacked any trace of fear. She stepped back, her eyes mocking his need for control. "You can take my body by treaty, Alistair, but you are a fool if you think you can command the spirit that resides within it."
Alistair withdrew his hand, his eyes burning with a dark, renewed fascination. He didn't look angry; he looked hungry.
"You are a challenge I didn't expect, Callista," he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.
"But mark my words: I will make you mine. Not just in this bed, but your heart. I will make you crave me until the memory of Asch is nothing but a distant whisper."
He turned and left, the heavy door thudding shut behind him.
Miles below the high towers, the shadows of the fortress walls moved. Emrys had finally stepped foot on Nevalian soil. His skin crawled at the touch of the frozen air, but his blood was a furnace. He had infiltrated the outer walls through the smuggler's tunnels Clyde had identified, moving with the lethal silence of a man who had nothing left to lose.
As he turned a corner into the servant’s passage, a guard stepped out from the gloom. Before the man could even draw breath to shout, Emrys was upon him. He slammed the guard against the stone wall, the edge of his dagger biting deep into the soft skin of the man’s throat.
"The Princess of Asch," Emrys hissed, his voice a jagged edge of steel. "Tell me where her chambers are, or I will bleed you into the snow."
Terrified, the guard stuttered out the directions—the high tower, the third door behind the velvet arras. Emrys didn't hesitate. He brought the pommel of his dagger down on the guard's temple, knocking him into unconsciousness, and vanished into the darkness.
Inside her private bath, Callista had dismissed her maids. She needed the silence.
She stood in the center of the steaming marble pool, her back toward the door, her naked body shimmering under the flickering candlelight. The water lapped at her thighs as she tried to wash the scent of Nevalis from her skin.
Suddenly, she heard the faint click of the door. The footsteps were heavy, purposeful—too heavy for a maid, too light for Alistair.
Callista’s instincts, honed by years of courtly treachery, screamed. She didn't turn. She reached out with a lightning-fast motion, grabbing a small, serrated dagger she kept hidden on the edge of the basin, and slid it beneath the water’s surface as she turned slightly.
The stranger moved with terrifying speed, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a chest clad in cold leather and travel-worn wool. Callista didn't scream. She twisted in the hold, her body a blur of motion as she brought the dagger up, pressing the tip of the blade firmly against the perpetrator’s throat, her eyes filled with a murderous light.
"One more move and you're—"
The words died in her throat. The "stranger" didn't flinch. He looked down at her with eyes that were hollow, desperate, and filled with a love so fierce it was agonizing.
"Emrys?" she whispered, her voice shattering.
"I told you I was coming for you," he rasped, his grip on her waist tightening until it bruised.
The dagger slipped from her fingers, clattering into the water. Callista let out a broken sob, her hands flying up to cup his face, checking if he was flesh and bone.
Emrys didn't wait. He captured her lips in a kiss that tasted of salt, snow, and months of repressed agony. He was still in his armor, his leather vest cold against her bare breasts, but the heat between them ignited like a wildfire.
He lifted her out of the water, her wet skin slick against his clothes. He carried her to the rug before the hearth, his hands frantic as he tore at his own fastenings. He needed to feel her—all of her—to convince himself she hadn't been broken by the Crowley Prince.
"You're mine," he growled against her skin, entering her with a desperate, soul-searing thrust that made the world outside the room vanish. "Tell me you're mine," Emrys ordered as he thrust deeper into Callista's pussy.
"Always," she gasped, her legs locking around his waist, pulling him into the depth of her being. "Only yours, Emrys."
Emrys thrust harder and deeper, kissing Callista hungrily, biting her lips with desperation and entering her mouth with his tongue. Soon, he began tracing kisses down Callista's neck, biting and sucking the skin to leave visible traces—making sure Alistair would see the marks of his claim. He continued until he reached Callista’s nipples, sucking them hungrily like a babe wanting more milk and never able to get enough.
Emrys let out a groan as he climaxed inside Callista's pussy filling every hole with his warm seeds.
In the heart of his enemy's fortress, the King of Asch reclaimed his Queen, their union a defiant scream against the cold of the North.
Source: Novel: I Love My Brother: Callista and Emrys
