Chapter 198 Without Walls
(Apollo & Adelaide)
Apollo exhaled slowly like he’d been starving for the sound.
His arms closed around her slowly, deliberately — not trapping, not forcing. Claiming. His palms skimmed her sides, following the curve of her ribs, the dip of her waist, the line of her hips as if mapping her for the first time. The leather creaked under his touch, loosening where the buckles had partially undone, revealing hints of skin that made his breath catch.
“Adelaide…” he murmured, voice thick with something dangerously close to reverence.
She felt him lower his head. Felt the warmth of his breath just before his face pressed into her hair.
He inhaled deeply. Not casually. Not subtle. Hungry.
A low sound vibrated in his throat — not quite a growl, not quite a sigh — as if her scent hit him like a spell he hadn’t expected to work. His nose skimmed the line of her temple, then the shell of her ear, his lips brushing her hair, her skin, the space where her pulse fluttered.
Her knees weakened.
His arms tightened reflexively, holding her up.
“You smell like fire,” he whispered against her skin. “My fire. And something that tastes like the darkness.”
His hands moved again — slower this time, sliding up her waist, across her stomach, over the leather that still clung stubbornly to her torso. His thumbs grazed the exposed skin at her sides, where the loosened buckles opened small slivers of warmth. Each touch sent heat chasing down her spine.
“Stop—” she breathed, though she wasn’t sure she meant it.
He chuckled softly, the sound low and full of dark amusement. “If you want me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, “you will need to sound far more convincing.”
Her breath shuddered.
His fingertips drifted upward, following the edge of a strap over her shoulder, tracing the line it made against her skin. He was barely touching her — just enough for her body to lean into him without meaning to.
“Look how you react,” he said quietly. “Not when you’re bound. Not when you’re forced open. But here.” His mouth grazed her hairline. “Pressed to my chest. Breathing my breath.”
Her heart thundered. And gods, he felt it — she knew he did.
Apollo’s hands moved again, palms broad and warm, smoothing along her arms, down her torso, returning to her waist as if he couldn’t decide what part of her needed his attention most. He touched her everywhere, but gently — no rough handling, no brutality.
Just possession. Just need.
It was somehow more intimate than being tied to the cross, more vulnerable, more dangerous. Because she could have pulled away now. Because she didn’t.
His thumbs stroked along the strip of exposed skin above her hips.
“Let me see you,” he whispered, undoing another buckle slowly, like savouring the sound of leather yielding under his fingers. “All of you. Without armour. Without walls.”
The leather loosened further. Her breath hitched so sharply he smiled against her hair.
“You fit against me,” Apollo murmured, sliding a hand up her stomach, stopping just beneath the swell of her ribs. “Like you were shaped with this in mind. Like resistance was never part of the design.”
His hands rounded her ribs, then went back to her hips. “You feel it too. Don’t you dare lie — I felt your heart when I touched you.”
She swallowed hard.
“Say it,” he said softly.
“No,” she whispered.
He smiled — she felt it against her neck.
“Then I’ll prove it.”
His arms tightened, pulling her impossibly closer. His face pressed into her hair again, deeper this time, his lips brushing her scalp, her temple, the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. His hands roamed her slowly and sure, memorising her shape with a tenderness that felt more dangerous than anything he’d done to her, bound and helpless.
She felt… wanted. Desired. Chosen. And that frightened her far more than pain ever had.
Apollo’s mouth brushed the column of her throat, barely there, almost an accident — except nothing he did was accidental.
“Let me take this off,” he whispered, undoing the next buckle with agonising precision. “All of it. Let me feel you without leather between us.”
Her breath caught, her skin flushed, her flame stuttered.
And then—The final buckle loosened beneath his hands.
He paused. Waiting. Watching her reaction. Wanting something from her that she wasn’t sure she was ready to give.
Adelaide didn’t trust her voice.
Her breath stuttered, her flame flickered, her knees felt like heat-softened metal — but she nodded. Small. Barely-there. Heat pooled low in her belly, a molten warning she couldn’t untangle from want. Her pulse trembled against her skin like it was trying to outrun itself.
Apollo chuckled behind her ear, low and triumphant. “No, Little Flame,” he murmured, his hands sliding along her hips in a slow, deliberate claim. “Use that pretty voice.”
The words curled down her spine. She felt them settle between her ribs like a hand closing around her very breath. Her body leaned back toward him instinctively, helplessly, craving more without her permission.
She swallowed. “Take it off,” she whispered.
A sharp inhale behind her — the sound of a predator pleased.
“Good girl,” Apollo breathed.
His fingers found the loosened buckles again, and this time he didn’t rush, didn’t strip, didn’t devour. He unfastened each piece like an act of worship. Every tug of leather loosened a knot inside her she didn’t know she had. Her skin prickled with sensation as the cool air licked places the armour had caged in warmth. Her flame rose and fell with each buckle undone, like it was breathing for her. Leather shifted over her skin, sliding down in deliberate increments, revealing her slowly — a soft peel, a ceremony, a promise.
One strap fell. Then another.
He pushed the leather down her arms with a reverence that made her shiver. The top folded away, piece by piece. Her nipples tightened in the cool air; her back arched without thought, trying to follow the retreat of his touch. It felt like being unveiled — not exposed, but seen.
The trousers loosened under his hands, sliding over her hips with a warm drag that made her breath catch.
Apollo stepped back only enough to watch her straighten.
Naked.
Glowing faintly in the dim torchlight. She felt the heat from the torches kiss her skin, felt the echo of his hands lingering long after they’d left her body. Her flame hummed beneath the surface, restless and trembling.
His breath left him in a quiet, reverent sound she’d never heard from him before.
He circled her once — slow, predatory, awestruck.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice roughened. “No wonder the mountain wakes for you. No wonder Cael can’t breathe around you. No wonder every demon in these halls will dream of you.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. A strange cocktail of pride and fear and something dangerously tender curled beneath her breastbone.
His hand skimmed her spine, light as smoke.
“But none of them,” he whispered, “will ever touch what I touch.”
Her heart misfired. Heat bloomed low and swift, an ache she hated wanting.