Heir to Desire

Stella Greece felt unreal in December. Quieter. Softer. The tourists had thinned, leaving the shoreline calm and unhurried, as if the world itself had exhaled. Somewhere behind us, dishes clinked, and low laughter drifted from the restaurant, warm and distant. The air smelled like salt and citrus and something rich I couldn't name. This was the kind of night people dreamed about. The kind they pointed to later and said, that was when I knew. I leaned into Caspian's side, his warmth steady and familiar. I should have felt anchored. Instead, there was that faint, persistent sense that something was slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I curled them. The sun was beginning to set, its light kissing the crystal clear water below. I pulled Caspian's jacket around me a bit tighter as a cool breeze blew past. A few strands of his dark hair framed his face, his curls limp from our activities earlier this afternoon. His bronze skin matched that of the horizon. I couldn't wait to run my teeth over him. Again. "So I told him if he wanted, he could meet with the king—of course, that was a flat out no." Caspian chuckled, sipping from his glass. "Of course," I hummed, my eyes fixed on the golden hues. "More wine, miss?" our waiter asked. "Half a glass more." I nodded. Cas and I watched as he filled my glass, waiting until he was back inside to speak again. "You look lovely tonight," Caspian said softly. "But then again, you always do." Hesitation. Worry. It wasn't sharp or overwhelming — just a quiet undercurrent beneath his smile. Hope, maybe. Or expectation. The kind that looked forward instead of standing still. It brushed against me and lingered longer than I liked, pressing softly at my ribs. I told myself it was nothing. That I was imagining it. I'd spent years convincing myself I didn't need to listen when feelings got complicated. Still, my magic knew no bounds. I smiled through it, picking up my glass and taking a few sips. The daughter of a Lycan king and a hybrid werewolf. Royal by blood. Magic blessed by blood. Exceptional by my own good work. "What's wrong?" My eyes met his, brow raised. "I was about to ask you the same." Cas gave me a sad smile. "You seem off today." "Just busy." I shrugged. "The conference is coming up soon." The conference. A large, prestigious event that was established many years ago, after the werewolf council was overturned. An annual two-week event when treaties were made, alliances were formed, where wars were declared in some cases. My parents started the tradition many years ago, each kingdom taking a turn at hosting. This was my year to host for the first time. The only current ruling werewolf Queen nonetheless. "I look forward to seeing your castle." Cas smiled broadly. "You're coming this year?" I raised a brow. "My father thinks it's time," he shrugged. "I couldn't care less, except for this year. Better view." "Has he given a date yet? When will you take over as Alpha King?" He shrugged. "We get into many debates about it, though we've never agreed on a date." "You're thirty-nine. What is he waiting for?" I frowned. "I took over when I was in my twenties — with a much larger territory at that." Panic. Embarrassment. I cursed myself, taking another swig of wine. "Who knows." Cas joined me in drinking, draining his glass. When he finished, he stood, offering me his hand. "Care for a walk?" "Love to." I took his hand in mine, and together we made our way down to the water. I kicked off my heels, letting my toes dig into the sand as we leisurely walked, picking up shells along the way. "Such a perfect evening." "Mhm." I agreed. Caspian reached down for another shell when my vision went blurry. The sun was on the horizon. The smell of salt, the cool breeze. Caspian knelt down in the sand, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a sparkling ring, a promise I wasn't ready for. "You bring me joy and comfort, laughter and friendship. You are everything I have ever wanted, and so much more. Marry me, Stella." I opened my mouth and closed it again, tears streaming down my face. I shook my head 'no'. Caspian's face fell. "It's been three years, Stel. Don't you want me? Want us?" "Cas, it's not that simple, we've been through this." "What's not simple about it? I love you, don't you love me?" "Love isn't enough!" I scoffed. "I have my kingdom and you have yours. We live miles apart. It would never work out." "But-" "No." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but no." "Stel-" "I think it's time we ended this. Goodbye, Caspian." I gathered my skirts up and darted off, leaving Caspian kneeling in the sand. Time slowed in that way it always did when the future cracked open for me. Every sound dulled, every sensation sharpening instead — the grain of sand beneath my feet, the weight of the air in my lungs, the certainty curling tight in my stomach. There was no surprise in it. No shock. Just the awful, undeniable knowing. This was the moment. The question. The line I wouldn't cross. My chest ached as if I'd already lost something, as if the answer had been taken from me before I ever had the chance to give it. My vision returned. I sucked in a sharp breath. "Stel? You alright?" Caspian asked, frowning down at me. I couldn't help but notice his free hand in his pocket. "Yeah, fine." I forced a smile, pulling away, towards the water. "Care for a swim?" "Oh, well-" "I'll race ya!" I yelled, barreling into the icy water that was my savior. The cold nipped at me, my dress clinging to my skin, but I hardly felt any of it as I dove beneath the surface. I popped up a few moments later, Caspian a small figure on the shoreline. A gift, they called it. My foresight, my intuition. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't helpful a time or two, but more often than not, it was just a painful reminder. I watched as Caspian reluctantly pulled off his shirt and shoes, following me into the water. He hissed the further in he went, a smile spreading on my face. "Can we agree to do this in the summer next time?" he said through clenched teeth. "Fine." My lips chattered as I pulled him close. Caspian smirked and kissed me deeply, coaxing my legs around his middle. We were like that for all of a minute before I felt his third leg poking at me. "Why don't we go get warmed up?" He nipped at my nose. I purred. "I like that idea." - - - - - - - - My head slammed against the shower wall as Caspian's mouth claimed mine. His mouth moved to my neck as steam wafted around us. His hands cupped my breasts, drops of hot water spraying against me. He moved lower. Lower. "Goddess! Don't stop!" I begged, my fingers digging into Caspian's hair as his mouth and fingers worshiped my aching center. His growl reverberated through me, scrambling every thought. My legs began to shake as I tipped over the edge, melting beneath his touch. Caspian quickly rose, hooking my leg over his hip. He thrust into me in one go, stealing my breath away. He hooked my other leg, leaving me at his mercy as he drove into me again and again. I clawed at his back. He bit my lip. The water eventually ran cold, but that didn't stop us. It wasn't until the sun was cresting over the horizon that we lay in bed, our limbs heavy, eyes bleary. Caspian's fingers grazed my back over and over again as we lay tangled together in the sheets. He pulled the blanket higher. Warmth spread through me. For a little while, wrapped in his warmth, the noise in my head faded. My thoughts slowed. My breathing evened out. I lay there, staring at the pale ceiling, waiting for something else to surface — a sense of rightness, maybe. A pull. Anything. Nothing came. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, and the familiar ache of knowing I would leave before morning truly arrived. - - - - - - - - "Is there any way I can convince you to stay another day?" Caspian asked, watching as I slipped on my thong. Pants. Socks. "Not this time." "You hardly slept." he frowned, sitting up in bed. "It's my older brothers' birthday's this weekend. I have to go," I said, pulling a shirt on. I stood, grabbing my bag. My bra was draped over the nightstand, next to the shells we gathered. I jammed it into my bag with everything else. The seashells too. "Would you like company?" he asked hopefully. I gave him a quick kiss. He let out a heavy sigh. I could feel his disappointment loud and clear, without my magic. "Will I ever meet them?" he asked as I tugged on my boots. "My family? I thought you did already." "In a social setting — standing next to my father, perhaps." He stood from the bed, pulling on a pair of boxers. "But not with you." I hummed, grabbing my jacket. "Stel, it's been three years." His voice was soft. Too soft. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. "And?" "And I think it's more than fair of me to want to meet your family." "Why?" I frowned. "Why? What do you mean, why?" he scoffed. "Cas," My shoulders fell. "I enjoy my time with you, really, I do. But I'm not looking for serious. I've never been looking for serious. You know that." We held each other's stare for a long moment. Caspian let out a heavy breath. "I hope you have safe travel," he said, pulling me in for a hug. "Thanks." I gave a half smile, pulling back. "See you soon?" he asked hopefully. "Yeah, I think I have a free weekend in a few weeks. Come see me?" "Sure," he nodded. "Just let me know when." "You're the best." I gave him a final lingering kiss before heading for the door. Outside, my taxi was already waiting. It was drizzling out, drops of rain clinging to the windows. Caspian waved from the hotel door, from our secret meeting space. As the driver pulled from the parking lot towards the airport, I closed my eyes, letting the weight of this weekend settle. I took a few deep breaths, trying to shake the feelings that threatened to bubble over. But even with every passing mile, by car, by plane, they lingered. This was the part I hated most — the space after goodbye, when the quiet settled in and there was no one left to distract me from it. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching Greece blur past in muted colors. Beautiful. Distant. I told myself I was doing the right thing. I always did. Right and easy were not the same thing, no matter how often I pretended otherwise. My life was built on choices that made sense on paper — duty, distance, restraint — all carefully measured and justified. They kept everything orderly. Predictable. And yet, as the city lights faded beneath the clouds, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was trading pieces of myself for control, one goodbye at a time. But the truth was harder to sit with. Leaving was easier than staying. Easier than explaining the things I didn't understand about myself. Easier than admitting that no matter how safe, how kind, how willing someone was to love me — it never felt like enough. The plane lifted into the clouds, carrying me home, and I wondered, not for the first time, how many good things I would walk away from before I figured out what I was missing.