Love conquers all!

4-The Longing

ROAN

“It means I’ve been dreaming about you every damn night since we were kids.”

My voice came out lower than I intended rough and tight with every memory I hadn’t dared to speak aloud. My fingers brushed her cheek..barely, reverently. Her skin was as soft as I remembered, as real as the ache in my chest that had never left me, not for a single night.

“And seeing you now?” I whispered, my throat tight, my heart threatening to split through my ribcage. “It makes me realize those dreams were nothing compared to reality.”

She stepped back. A subtle motion polite, hesitant..but to me, it felt like an earthquake. My chest constricted, and I could feel every pulse in my temples. I stepped forward, closing the distance she tried to create, refusing to let her slip through the cracks of fate again.

“Don’t step back from me, Blair. Not now.” My voice was hoarse, thick with six years of silence and longing. “I’ve waited six f*cking years for this moment.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, glimmering like sunlight on water. One more step, and she pressed herself against the door. Her breath caught, and mine trembled. I could feel the heat radiating from her, the subtle scent of jasmine and the faint tinge of roses in her hair. My body remembered her in ways my mind could barely comprehend.

Then..

The door creaked open behind her.

“Time’s up, Sir Demetrus,” a guard called blandly from the hallway, completely unaware he’d just unraveled a moment I’d held in the hollows of my chest for years.

Blair looked away quickly, fingers smoothing the fabric of her gown like it was armor. Her hands moved with such delicate, careful motions, I wanted to memorize each one the curve of her wrists, the slope of her shoulders, the subtle rise of her chest. Every inch of her screamed life and grace, a temptation I’d never dared to feel before.

“I should go…” she murmured, almost whispering, like she feared my response might shatter her resolve.

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. I only nodded, my jaw tight, my thoughts drowned out by the hammering of my heart.

She turned to leave, but paused in the doorway just long enough to glance back at me with eyes I’d once promised to protect. Then she was gone. Down the hall. Like a ghost I’d never been able to catch, leaving a trail of heat and memory behind her.

---

Hours later, I sat shirtless before the fire in my chamber. The flames flickered like memories I didn’t want but couldn’t escape. Shadows danced across my walls, painting my body in light and dark, mimicking the storm within me. I’d led armies, stood shoulder to shoulder with kings, felt the bite of steel and the sting of blood. But none of it nothing compared to five minutes in that room with her. Not even close. I was so hard just at touching her an inch, I'm sure I'll explode when actually get to explore my Blair's perfect porcelain body.

The silence here was heavy, curling around my shoulders like a second skin. My armor lay discarded beside me, but I still felt the weight of something heavier pressing on my ribs. Desire. Regret. The ache of a longing I’d denied myself for years.

A knock broke through the quiet. Tentative, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome. F*ck, I covered myself with a sheet and try to calm down my manhood.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Words would have betrayed me. My chest rose and fell as I listened to her hesitation, felt the warmth of her presence even before I saw her.

The door creaked open anyway.

And then there she was.

Blair.

In a pale, flowing nightdress, hair cascading over one shoulder like liquid gold, cheeks flushed with the faintest pink from running through the palace just to get here. Every movement, every subtle shift of her weight made my chest clench. My heart stuttered, threatening to escape my body entirely.

“Blair?” I breathed, voice rough and thick.

“I couldn’t finish what I wanted to say,” she whispered, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. The soft click of the latch was more intimate than any word.

I stood slowly, every muscle tense, every nerve alert. “You shouldn’t be here,” I said, though the truth was I’d been waiting for her.

“I know.”

Neither of us moved. The firelight painted her skin in amber and gold, made her eyes shine like oceans under the moon. I could see the subtle curve of her jaw, the delicate line of her collarbone, the way the nightdress clung lightly to her form. A woman. Not a girl. And yet… still Blair.

Then, as if the earlier moment hadn’t been torn apart by duty, she spoke:

“Roan… how was Cornelius? Is it how we imagined the land to be?”

I blinked. Of all things, she asked about that?

I wanted to forget the question. Wanted to crush the distance between us and kiss her like I had in every dream. I wanted to push her against the wall tear that nightgown off of her and enter that sweet heaven...But something about her tone gentle, sincere anchored me.

“Cornelius is fine,” I said finally, stepping closer, every movement measured, deliberate. “The land’s green. The people are loyal. The hills hum with peace for now. But it’s not home.”

She tilted her head, voice barely above a breath. “Then what is home?”

I stopped inches from her. I could feel the heat from her body, the faint tremor in her hands, the soft intake of breath that made my d**k ache.

“Home,” I said, my voice low, reverent, “is where your best memories are.” I let my gaze sweep over her. “And you know what’s funny?”

She shook her head, blue eyes wide and attentive.

“I’ve fought beasts, marched across kingdoms, been knighted by kings. But none of it felt real. Not even victory. Not even blood. The only time I ever felt truly alive… was in your garden. Stealing strawberries while you screamed at me for ruining your dresses. Laughing when we fell into mud puddles, hearts racing with the thrill of being alive.”

She laughed softly, the sound like wind through leaves, small and melodic. Dimples flickered in her cheeks, faint shadows of the girl I’d known. Gods, I missed those moments more than any medal, more than any honor.

“I know,” she said softly.

I reached out slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was intimate, and yet restrained. My fingers lingered at the curve of her cheek, the warmth of her skin, the soft scent of her hair. I could feel her pulse through the silk of her dress, subtle and urgent, betraying the desire she’d tried to suppress.

“Do you remember how we used to talk about everything?” I asked, voice low, eyes searching hers. “How we promised we’d always be friends?”

“We are,” she whispered. And her smile… it hurt. It held every memory we’d ever made—and every one we’d never had.

I swallowed thickly. She was light and longing, and I was a man forged of iron and war, slowly rusting in her glow. The ache in my chest burned hotter, sharper. I wanted to reach for her, to pull her into me, to assure her that all six years of distance meant nothing. But I held myself back, a soldier trained to restraint, a man terrified of crossing boundaries that might never be uncrossed.

A creak behind her broke the silence.

“Blair?” Cassia’s voice floated into the room, teasing and irreverent. “You said you were getting water..unless you’re planning to drown yourself in Roan’s arms?”

Blair groaned softly.

“Cassia,” she hissed, half exasperated, half amused.

Cassia strolled in with that infuriating grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I had to come rescue you before your scandal turns into a ballad. Though… to be fair, I’d absolutely sing it at your wedding.”

I found myself smiling despite everything. Cassia always had that effect—like mischief wrapped in silk and good intentions.

“You’ve grown, Sir Roan,” she said with a wink. “Broader, taller… broodier.”

“I’ve heard,” I replied dryly, heart still racing from Blair’s nearness.

Cassia looped her arm through Blair’s. “Come on, trouble. Before the moon catches you sneaking kisses with your childhood ghost.”

She winked at me once more, then tugged Blair gently toward the door.

But Blair paused, her gaze finding mine again. Blue eyes shimmering, lips slightly parted, a faint tremor betraying the storm inside her.

“Roan…” she whispered, hesitant.

I shook my head. “Go. Before I make a mistake neither of us can undo.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but finally nodded then disappeared into the corridor, Cassia’s laughter echoing softly after them.

And I was alone again.

But somehow, the silence felt warmer. Like maybe the ghost of her didn’t hurt quite as much tonight.

Not yet.

But morning always came. And I didn’t know if I’d survive another one without her.