enjoyebooks CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 47
POV: Evangeline
The room is dim, lit only by the dying fire in the hearth. Shadows ripple across the walls like ghosts—ghosts of everything I have lost, everything slipping from my hands. I sit on the edge of my bed, knees pulled to my chest, and press my face into trembling palms.
Alexandro. My boys. Sebastian. Henry. William. Every name feels like a wound reopening.
A choked sob breaks from my throat, sharp and painful. “I can’t do this,” I whisper into my hands. “I can’t keep holding everyone together when I’m falling apart myself.”
I don’t hear the door. I don’t hear footsteps. I only feel when someone sits beside me, the mattress dipping under familiar weight.
“Evangeline,” Sebastian murmurs.
I stiffen. “Please… not now.”
He ignores the plea. His arms slip around my shoulders, warm and strong, pulling me gently against his chest. I push weakly at him, but my resistance crumbles instantly.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Please, don’t pretend everything is fine.”
“I’m not pretending,” he says softly.
My hands tremble as they rest uselessly against him. “Sebastian, I’m tired. I’m so tired. I can’t breathe without feeling like something else is about to fall apart.”
He presses his forehead to the side of my head. “I know.”
“No, you don’t,” I choke out. “Everything is breaking and I—I don’t know how to stop it. Our sons hate each other. Henry is out there chasing vengeance. William is being used. And Alexandro—” My voice shatters. “Alexandro is gone. And I can’t—”
Sebastian’s arms tighten around me. “I’m here,” he says quietly. “Let me be here.”
I shake my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. “You can’t fix this. You can’t fix me.”
“I don’t need to fix you,” he whispers. “I just need to hold you.”
The words hit someplace deep, someplace fragile, and I crumble completely. I sink into him, my forehead pressed to his chest, tears soaking through his shirt. He holds me closer, his fingers threading through my hair, slow and tender.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “For everything you’ve had to bear alone. For every moment I wasn’t here when you needed me.”
My breath hitches. “You’ve been cold. Distant. And I— I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m losing you too.”
“You’re not losing me.” His thumbs brush my wet cheeks. “You will never lose me, Evangeline.”
He tilts my chin up gently, forcing my eyes toward his. I want to look away, to wipe my tears and pretend I’m still strong, but I can’t. The grief is too raw, too heavy.
His face softens.
“Come here,” he whispers.
Before I can think, before I can pull away, he kisses me.
The world stops.
Warmth spreads through me like a sudden sunrise, soft and slow and overwhelming. His lips move against mine with desperate tenderness, as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. My heart aches—deep, painful, pleading.
I don’t resist. I can’t.
I press back into the kiss, fingers curling into his shirt, clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing left in my life.
When he pulls back, he’s breathing heavily. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers against my lips. “More than I can say.”
My voice shakes. “Sebastian… I don’t know if this is right. I’m hurting. Everything is wrong.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “That’s why I’m here.”
He kisses me again.
This time the kiss is deeper. More desperate. All the cracks in us—grief, fear, anger, longing—pour into the space between our mouths. His hand slides to my jaw, firm and careful, tilting my face toward him as if he can pour comfort directly into my soul.
My breath catches. My hands slide up to his shoulders, pulling him closer until our chests press together. Heat pools in my stomach, rising, unfurling, overwhelming.
“Evangeline,” he whispers, breaking the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against mine. “Please let me love you tonight.”
A sob escapes me—not from sadness, but from the ache of needing something, someone, anything to hold onto.
“I don’t want to feel alone anymore,” I admit, tears still clinging to my lashes.
“You’re not,” he promises. “Not with me.”
His lips trail softly along my cheek, catching the remnants of my tears. My body shivers, not from cold, but from the intensity of everything I’m feeling. His hands move slowly down my back, grounding me, warming me.
I whisper his name. “Sebastian…”
“Yes?”
“Don’t stop.”
The air thickens between us. He kisses me again—slow, reverent, as if memorizing me. His fingers slide to my waist, anchoring me gently in his arms. I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his warmth, craving it, craving him.
My hands rise to cup his face. “I’m hurting,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. “Let me help.”
He kisses me harder.
The kiss deepens—passion curling through both of us, raw and unfiltered. His hands explore the lines of my body with aching tenderness, as if each touch is an apology, a promise, a plea.
I melt into him, my grief colliding with longing, my exhaustion dissolving under his touch. Everything else—Henry, William, the kingdom, my pain—fades at the edges.
Only him.
Only us.
“Sebastian…” I breathe, voice barely there.
He lifts me in his arms with a quiet exhale, carrying me toward the bed with a gentleness that breaks me all over again. His lips brush my temple, my jaw, the hollow of my throat.
“Evangeline,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, “I won’t let you fall apart alone.”
My fingers tangle in his hair as he lays me down, his body lowering to mine with slow, reverent care.
His mouth finds mine again.
Desire rises, fierce and overwhelming, born from fear and love and desperation. My hands run along his back, pulling him closer, needing him closer.
He whispers against my lips, “I love you.”
And I finally let go.
I surrender to him—to us—as the world blurs and the firelight fades into darkness. Fade to black.