Chapter 134: His Pain
Leroy woke first. His arms ached from holding her all night, but he didn’t care. Lorraine had curled up against him in her sleep, clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. So small, so stubbornly warm. So adorable. He would bear any pain for this. He would bear anything to keep her here.
He smiled, unable to help himself. Just watching her sleep was dangerous, as he could lose himself like this forever. But temptation itched at his fingers. Looking at her was not enough. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, then gave her cheek the gentlest poke.
She pouted, scrunching her nose and turning away.
Leroy bit back a laugh. He poked her again. And again. Each time she turned, grumbling faintly in her sleep, the more amused he became. His heart felt lighter than it had in days.
Finally, he tilted her chin back toward him, studying her parted lips. They glistened faintly in the morning light, taunting him. He swallowed.
A kiss. Just a peck. He had searched for her endlessly, starved of food and sleep, and now that he had her warmth, wasn’t he owed at least a taste?
So, he pressed his lips to hers.
It was supposed to be enough. Just once.
But once was never enough.
He kissed her again. And again. Each brush of her lips only sharpened his hunger until the sweetness turned unbearable. His mouth grew greedy, nibbling, coaxing, claiming. Holding her in his arms was too clumsy, too restrictive; he wanted more.
So, he shifted, easing her down against the couch, bracing himself above her. Caging her in. Stealing kiss after desperate kiss.
His body burned, his lower half reacting as heat coiled low in his stomach. His breath came warmer, harsher, as he kissed her deeply, hungrily, as though he had been starving and she was the only food left in the world.
Still, not enough.
He cupped her cheeks, thumbs stroking her skin, and parted her lips. His tongue slipped inside, tasting her, drinking her in. That was when she stirred.
A soft, helpless sound slipped from her throat, fragile and intoxicating. Her lips quivered beneath his, then slowly, instinctively, they pressed back. She was not awake, not yet, but her body only knew warmth, only sought comfort.
Her fingers curled on his cheek, holding weakly, as though even in dreams she refused to let him go. Her mouth opened for him, yielding, answering his kiss with a drowsy sweetness that made his chest tighten and his restraint fray.
Every sigh she gave, every timid brush of her tongue against his, bound him tighter. His breath tangled with hers. Her sleepy surrender was the cruelest temptation of all, because he knew, the moment she woke, she would flee.
But for now... she was kissing him back.
And then it happened.
Her lashes fluttered, slow at first, as though heavy with dreams. But then her eyes opened... truly opened. The haze lifted in an instant, like a curtain torn down, and he watched the change strike her face.
That soft, unguarded sweetness vanished.
Her lips stilled beneath his.
Her pupils widened, not with desire, but with dawning shock.
"Lorraine, I—"
Before he could finish, she shoved him back, scrambled off the couch, yanked her hood up, and darted to the door. She scurried out like the little mouseling she was, quick and frantic.
Leroy sat stunned, breath still ragged, the taste of her clinging to his tongue. His lips ached from the sudden loss, his arms burned with the emptiness where she had been. Desire curdled into a sharp, frustrated ache in his chest. He dragged a hand down his face and groaned, half in torment, half in disbelief.
And then he jumped to his feet, unable to let her slip away again.
"Wait, Little Mouseling!" he shouted, voice rougher than he intended, already breaking into a run.
One of the guards whom he saw earlier stepped in to stop him. Leroy only glared at him. The other guard pressed his hand on this guard. And so, the guards stepped back, letting Leroy run behind Lorraine.
Lorraine’s pulse thundered in her ears. This place was known to no one except a chosen few. Not even Sylvia knew of its existence. And yet, he had found her here.
If he could find this place...
Her stomach dropped. Does he know? Does he know I am Lazira? And if he knows I’m Lazira, he also knows I am the Swan Divina?
Her breath stuttered, panic clamping around her chest.
Then another thought struck, crueler than the rest. Is he here for Elyse?
Her steps faltered. She whipped around to her men, voice cutting like a blade. "Do not let Elyse escape. No matter what."
She might have been merciful with Zara, but not Elyse. Never Elyse. If that woman dared linger in Leroy’s heart, Lorraine would see her destroyed. She would not even leave behind ashes he could hold.
He was hers to love and hate. She should be the one he could love or hate. And if he wouldn’t fall for her, she would let him hate her for the rest of his life by taking his first love from him.
She plunged deeper into the twisting tunnel system, only to hear the relentless echo of his footsteps behind her. Her throat tightened. He was following her. Not Elyse. Her.
Why? Did he not see Elyse? Was this pursuit vengeance for every scar she had carved into his precious Elyse?
Lorraine darted around corners, trying to shake him, but he never lost her. Always one step closer. Always gaining.
What were her guards even doing? Why was no one stopping him?
Her mind tangled in knots. If he had wanted Elyse, why had he kissed her? She had been sleeping, and so, she never would have initiated. It had to be him.
Then why? Why her?
The answer lodged like glass in her throat. Because he was here for me.
She shook her head violently, refusing it, unable to bear it. That answer hurt more than all the rest, because it asked her to believe what she had never dared to... that Leroy had been looking for her, not Elyse, that she meant something to him.
And Lorraine... she didn’t have the strength to believe it.
Before she realized it, her frantic flight had carried her into the throne room. Why here, of all places? She didn’t know. Perhaps because this was where she had always felt like a queen. Where she held power. Maybe she didn’t want to break down in front of him like a powerless damsel. Maybe she didn’t want to seem so useless.
But tonight, that feeling deserted her. She was no queen; she was just a hunted woman, trembling, breath tearing in and out of her lungs.
She bent over, hands braced on her knees, panting. The vast chamber swallowed the sound of her heartbeat, loud and uneven.
Then she heard...footsteps. His footsteps.
She jerked upright, panic flaring, and tried to bolt again.
"Stop right there!" Leroy’s voice rang across the empty hall, hoarse, ragged with pursuit. He, too, was panting, his breath breaking between words.
Lorraine’s chest tightened. She couldn’t keep running, not here, not anymore. Yet every instinct screamed at her to flee.
"Will you stop—" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Will you stop running away from me?"
That plea hit her harder than the command. She froze, her whole body rigid, because in his voice she heard not triumph, not anger, but pain.