Then he starts to really move.

Pleasure builds at a relentless pace until I am drowning in its embrace, my entire body awash with it.

“Rome,” I cry out.

His cock lengthens within my pulsing core. And he curses, pulls out, throws his head back, and pumps his cum across my stomach, claiming the swollen mound, using his hand. “Aster… I love you. Fuck me, Aster, I love you.”

I watch the erotic scene, his veined forearms contracting, his fist working every spurt out. “I love you, too, my king.”

He drops to his hands on either side of me, creating a frame of muscles around my body. Firm, authoritarian lips move to mine, needing wholesome affection. A kiss.

A kiss from my lover.

From my king.

We both pant into each other’s mouths while pleasure lingers and plays a soft encore.

Too soon, he breaks our kiss. Presses his forehead to mine. “Have you been well?” A warm hand touches the mound at my hips. “Is it getting too hard? We can incubate soon.”

“I can keep going. A little longer.”

“That’s my good little Silk Girl.” He kisses me once. “You can try, but I will make the call. My heir will survive perfectly fine in the coming months outside your body. You have done such a good job, Aster. And you will respect my decision when it comes. Understand, little creature?”

I nod. “It is only… I am not sleeping well.”

He hums, a menacing and depthless sound. “You’re working so hard for me. So tired. Let me help my sweet creature get some sleep.”

Scooping me up as if I weigh nothing, he lays me on my side, with my pillow, crown to the foot of the bed.

He lies the opposite way.

I squirm. “What are yo⁠—”

My words halt on a moan when he drags my pelvis to his mouth, one thigh to the mattress, one leg slung over his face. In a long, slow stroke, his tongue slides between my folds.

And again.

My skin tingles. He isn’t trying to build that wonderful bliss; he is gentle and tender, teasing me with small dips and licks.

He’s simply making me feel… nice.

I smile and take a big breath.

Rome of The Strait. In like a storm… No longer slipping away like a phantom.

Staying.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Nineteen

Aster

“You look like a fertility goddess,” Tuscany says, stopping a few paces away from me.

Even after everything we have been through—at the abbey, waiting for Rome to return, mourning Odio—she still keeps space around herself. She seems to draw away from physical touch, whereas I seek it out.

“Thank you.” I smile, my cheeks flushing. I disagree, but I refrain from admitting that. A goddess is graceful, airy, and enchanting.

I wobble and pant, even sweat.

I can see why my studies left out this part of the pregnancy journey.

But I am lucky.

I have Meaningful Purpose.

And love.

A perfect gust of wind moves my mauve dress around my body, cooling me and awakening playful bumps along my skin.

Rome comes up behind me; his height lords over me. He circles a thick arm around my waist, slides his palm beneath my belly, and takes the weight of his heir in one large hand.

I swear my spine literally sighs.

“Better, sweet creature?” His otherworldly stature presses to my back, and I slump against him, my head resting just below his chest.

“I love the roses, my king.” I smile softly at the blooming garden, petals unfurling, their posy scent lifting. “But why are we out here?”

“I have someone to show you.” His voice slides to the side as he says, “Both of you. I wanted to wait until he was back to his usual self.”

Through the gentle rustling of trees, I hear a screech, the thrilling sound creating tangible waves in the atmosphere. They reach inside me and snatch air straight from my lungs, leaving me gasping.

“It can’t be…”

My pulse kicks into a rhythm that’s anything but regular when massive black wings rise from behind the limestone building ahead like waves bursting from a steady blue sea.

The majestic eagle soars toward me. Happiness and confusion cripple me to the point where I am speechless.

“What? How?” I shake my head, remembering that detached absence in his gaze. “But I saw his eyes. They were open and lifeless, and his legs were curled… He was dead. Upside-down.”

“It might have appeared that his eyes were open, but that’s his nictitating membrane, little creature.” Rome steps in front of me, casting me in his shadow. “His eyes were closed. At least one of his eyelids was.” He feeds his hand between the curtain of my hair and neck, gripping me, reassuring me. “I couldn’t feel his breath” The memory darkens his gaze. “I could hardly feel my own.”

Showing off for me, Odio soars above my head, twirling and screeching through the haze, the fierce waves of his voice deafening. Disappearing into the red distance, only to reappear, opening up the sky like a black lightning bolt.

Yes, handsome boy, you’re very scary.

I know what I saw… “But⁠—”

“The Trade still use Gene Therapies, Aster,” Tuscany says, capturing my attention with that terrifying declaration.

Therapies?

She means engineering.

Suddenly Ana’s use of the word treatments echoes in my ears. “Bu- But engineering is illegal. It has been for…” I don’t know why I bother questioning it. Am I that naïve? The knowledge is there in text and the technology is available and centralised by The Trade. Of course they use it to save lives…

Hopefully, that’s its only Purpose.

Tuscany turns to face me. “Its use is strictly controlled.” Lovely, straight, honey-coloured hair dances across her eyes as she looks up at her brother. “Rome, I want to go on a campaign to visit The Cradle. I want to visit the Trades and thank them for their service. To meet the children in the nurseries and listen to stories. To be a queen and mother, as I was born for. Born For Marble.”

Her demand dissects the conversation.

And I am quite pleased it does.

“You waited until Aster was here to ask me this?” Rome’s brows tighten above his blue gaze. “I thought you would retire thi⁠—”

“Please.” She lifts her hand. “I do not wish to argue. I have never fulfilled my Purpose. I would like to try. I did not break apart at the compound. I did not disappear. I was not entirely brave, but I would like the opportunity to try again. Will you allow me to try again?”

I look between them, watching Rome stare at her; his angry rebuttals and fears for her safety are dark phantoms pulsing beneath his tight jaw.

Then he finally says, “You will take Kong.”

She closes her eyes on a heavy sigh, relief gushing from her lips. “I have my Army, Sire.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, his face smooths to infallible severity. “You will take Kong. We will not discuss this further. He knows The Cradle. The ruins. And he will die for you.”

“Kong is your Guardian.”

Rome laughs, husky and deep. “He has never been my Guardian, sweet sister. Not since I was young. He has always been yours.”

While they talk, Odio lands at my side like a puff of black smoke, demanding my attention.

“So you will allow it then?” she says. “If I agree to have Kong accompany me?”

Odio approaches me, a long step at a time. I ignore their discussions, captivated by a black angel.

“Hello, handsome boy.” Tears pool in my eyes. “I mourned you. That was very rude of you. Do not do that again.” When I reach out my hand, hesitantly, slowly, he steps straight into my palm.

“I will,” Rome says to Tuscany.

My fingers ruffle Odio’s crest; his feathers clap like trees in the wind, and inside his chest, he purrs with enjoyment.