Marked by the King

Chapter Nine – The Quiet That Follows

Emilia’s POV

I didn’t speak for the first hour I was awake.

Didn’t move much either.

I just lay there on the couch, knees tucked up to my chest, staring at the lines in the ceiling like they might rearrange into answers.

My body still remembered.

The heat.

The weight.

The sound of his voice—low and feral—saying things I never thought I wanted to hear.

“You’re mine.”

It wasn’t a nightmare.

That’s what scared me the most.

It had felt so real. So right. And not in the way dreams usually pretend to be. This had been different. This felt like a memory from a life I hadn’t lived yet.

One I maybe wasn’t supposed to want.

But I did.

God help me, I did.

⸻

I peeled myself off the couch and went to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror until the last second.

When I finally looked up, I half expected to see a different girl staring back.

She wasn’t.

Same dark eyes. Same tired skin. Same fading bruise along my jaw, barely visible beneath makeup and better lighting.

But something was different.

In my eyes.

In my posture.

In the way I touched the bracelet on my wrist like it anchored me to something I couldn’t explain.

I’d never been wanted like that before.

Not even by Logan, and he was supposed to be the man who loved me.

But Luca?

He hadn’t even touched me in real life.

And I still felt marked.

⸻

I moved like a ghost through my morning.

Shower. Clothes. Keys.

Everything felt tighter. Brighter. Like someone had sharpened the edges of the world while I slept.

And inside my chest?

A hum that wouldn’t stop.

It pulsed through my fingertips, pooled low in my belly, and made my breath catch every time I thought about the way his mouth felt in that dream—devouring, desperate, mine.

I tried to push the memory down.

Tried to forget.

But all it did was coil tighter.

Like a string pulling me toward something I didn’t understand.

⸻

Luca’s POV

I canceled the morning meeting.

Nico didn’t question it. He knew better.

I paced instead.

The suite above the tower was quiet—soundproofed, sealed, secured. But inside me?

Chaos.

I hadn’t dreamed in years.

Not really. Not like that.

And now I couldn’t stop seeing her.

Bent. Bound. Begging.

Not in fear.

But in surrender.

She had offered herself to me in the way no one ever had—without resistance, without hesitation. She’d whispered my name like it meant something more than power.

She’d said it like it meant belonging.

⸻

I poured a drink.

Didn’t touch it.

Tried to work.

Didn’t try hard.

Instead, I found myself watching the clock. Tracking the minutes until I could justify checking the cameras. Until I could see her.

Because I needed to know.

Had it shaken her too?

Had she felt it?

Dreams didn’t bind men like me. I didn’t feel things. Not after the wars I’d fought. Not after the blood I’d spilled.

But Emilia had gotten under my skin before I ever heard her speak.

Now?

She was in my bloodstream.

And I didn’t know how to cut her out.

⸻

Emilia’s POV

The train car felt smaller than usual.

Or maybe it was just me.

I couldn’t get comfortable. Couldn’t settle. The sounds were too loud. The lights too bright. Everything under my skin felt like it was vibrating.

I leaned against the window and closed my eyes, but that was worse.

Because I saw him again.

In my mind.

On his knees.

Between my legs.

Tongue and teeth and heat.

I bit my lip until it hurt.

When I opened my eyes, the old man across from me was staring.

I looked away.

Gripped my coat tighter.

Felt the bracelet shift against my wrist and cursed myself for wearing it again.

But I didn’t take it off.

Couldn’t.

Because it didn’t feel like jewelry.

It felt like a promise.

Or maybe a warning.

⸻

Luca’s POV

When she arrived, I knew before the security team said anything.

The shift in the air.

The static in my chest.

I walked to the tinted glass and looked down three stories.

There she was.

Smaller than the dream had painted her.

But no less powerful.

She didn’t look up.

Didn’t need to.

I saw the way her fingers grazed the bracelet as she passed through the lobby. The way her breath caught when a man got too close in the cafeteria line.

And I saw her flinch—just slightly—when the door behind her opened.

But then… she steadied.

She took a breath.

And I swear to God, her spine straightened like she knew I was watching.

Like she was daring me to move.

I didn’t.

Not yet.

Because I didn’t want her startled.

I wanted her ready.

And when she came to me?

It would be on her knees, just like in the dream.

Only this time… it wouldn’t end when we woke.

⸻

Emilia’s POV

The cafeteria was louder than usual.

Or maybe I was just too aware of everything.

The hiss of the espresso machine. The sharp clang of cutlery. The manager barking orders too close to my ear. All of it prickled across my skin like static.

But none of it compared to the weight I felt whenever I neared the mezzanine windows.

I tried not to look.

Tried not to think about him.

But I did.

Over and over again.

⸻

Every movement felt rehearsed, like I was playing a part in someone else’s body.

I couldn’t focus.

The same bin of utensils took me fifteen minutes to restock.

I dropped a stack of trays and didn’t even flinch.

Didn’t apologize either.

That was new.

⸻

Lizzy leaned against the steam table beside me, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“You good?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just tired.”

She snorted. “You look like someone ghosted you and then set you on fire in your dreams.”

My spine stiffened.

“What?”

“You know. That look people get when their brain betrays them and decides to throw their crush into a 3 a.m. Rated-R fantasy.”

I choked on air.

She blinked. “Oh my God, I was kidding.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated, turning away.

But my face was burning.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

And I wasn’t fine.

⸻

I kept my head down the rest of my shift.

Avoided the windows.

Avoided the mirrors.

But every time I moved, I felt him. Not physically. Not really. But like heat trapped beneath my skin.

I caught myself staring at my own reflection in the microwave door. My lips were fuller. Flushed. My pupils wide.

My mouth remembered him.

My body did too.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the echo of that voice in my ear:

You’re mine now.

⸻

Luca’s POV

I didn’t check the feed for two hours.

That was discipline.

But when I finally gave in, I didn’t just watch her.

I studied her.

Frame by frame.

Angle by angle.

The way she moved had changed.

She wasn’t trying to disappear anymore.

But she wasn’t comfortable either.

It was something in between.

Like she was waiting.

For a touch that hadn’t come.

For a voice that hadn’t returned.

For me.

⸻

When she dropped the trays, I didn’t flinch.

But when she didn’t apologize—didn’t even blink—I felt something dark curl in my chest.

Not rage.

Pride.

The kind of pride that lives in wolves when they see their mate stand unafraid for the first time.

She was still unsure.

Still tender.

But the girl I’d seen weeks ago?

She was fading.

And what remained?

Was waking up.

⸻

Nico knocked once and came in.

“Security sweep’s done.”

I didn’t look away from the monitor. “Anything new?”

“No threats. Just background chatter. Though…” He hesitated.

“What?”

“She’s different today.”

I turned then.

His expression was unreadable. “The cafeteria girl. Emilia. She’s not folding in on herself anymore.”

I said nothing.

“You did something, didn’t you?”

“Nothing she didn’t want.”

Nico raised a brow. “So it’s like that now?”

“It was always like that,” I said quietly. “I just stopped pretending otherwise.”

⸻

Emilia’s POV

I told my supervisor I had a migraine.

Maybe I did.

My head was spinning. My chest was tight. My thoughts felt like someone else’s handwriting.

He signed my release form with a grunt and waved me off without a glance.

I didn’t go home right away.

I didn’t know where I was going.

I just walked.

City blocks blurred together.

People passed.

Traffic moved.

But I felt outside of it all.

Like I was still dreaming.

Still tied to something that hadn’t ended when I opened my eyes.

⸻

I wandered into a bookstore I’d passed a dozen times but never entered.

I moved between aisles without reading the titles.

Until I stopped.

Poetry.

Of course.

My fingers brushed the spine of a worn paperback.

It opened to the middle.

And the line that stared back at me said:

“I will not love you gently. I will love you like a man on fire.”

I closed the book.

Walked out.

But the words stayed with me.

Because that was what he felt like.

Not a man.

A fire.

And maybe I wasn’t afraid of burning anymore.

⸻

Luca’s POV

I didn’t follow her.

Didn’t need to.

The men I had watching her were silent today. I gave them no orders. Told them not to move.

Because I needed to know what she’d do when she was alone.

Not watched.

Not cornered.

Not touched.

Just… left with herself.

She walked the city like a woman trying to wake up.

And when she stopped in front of that bookstore, something inside me shifted.

She went in.

Came out without a bag.

But she looked different.

Her eyes were clearer.

Her walk steadier.

And I knew.

Whatever war she’d fought in there, she’d won.

For now.

But the next battle?

Would be mine.