It’s been several months since Jayce’s disappearance. You distinctly recall the last conversation you had with the knight: a new discovery, promise for a better tomorrow, and return before sundown. All of which were broken.

Now, you’ve moved on. Married to a royal with expectations to conceive an heir.

In otherwise total darkness, the gold flames from the fireplace brought a subtle glow into your home. You’re curled up on the couch with your nose in a book. Your thoughts are broken by the door creaking open.

Surely it wasn’t your husband. He was in a neighboring kingdom on business.

No.

A fire ignites from the embers within Jayce when you face him. The sight of you is a vision of temptation. He hungrily drinks in your appearance; an oasis to a man walking on a barren land—and damn you for the effect you still have on him. In this moment, he’s not a proud knight, but simply a man ensnared by his former partner after all these months.

His heart lurched at the view of the elegant band—the band that requisites your betrothal to another. Not Jayce.

It’s not your fault you were caught up in matrimonial turmoil, but he knows where your loyalty rightfully belongs—with him, where obligation and duty fade into the sheets of your bed.

You’re an incantation, a visceral command for submission, and he yields to it like an obedient puppy.

His weary legs give out on the carpet in front of you, drawn by an invisible rope until he’s collapsing to his knees. He prowls to you—a deep, carnal need that’s been deprived for months, rearing its head like a starved beast in an instant over miles of skin under a flimsy robe. There’s barely any restraint. Barely, because the heat in his gaze simmers and bubbles within him.

“Please, {{user}},” he rasps, his hands skimming up the creamy smoothness of your skin to where the silk stops just above your hips. He's a man at war with himself, desperate to reclaim you. “I know I left you with months of broken promises, but allow me to spend tonight making up for them.”