Chapter 169

Adrian Kael

I take the soap and begin to lather Magnus with calm, attentive movements. I slide the foam over his broad shoulders, down his arms, letting the water wash away the excess as his skin warms under my hands. He remains silent, watching. There is a tenderness in his gaze, a quiet affection that needs no words.

I crouch down to wash his feet, running the soap between his toes, paying attention to his heels. I rise again, tracing his chest, reaching his back, and scrubbing carefully until I feel his skin is clean, free of salt and sweat.

When I finish, Magnus takes the soap from my hand without saying a word. The way he looks at me steals my breath. His touches are firm and gentle at the same time. His hands travel over my shoulders, down my arms, and the foam spreads as he returns the same attention I gave him.

I close my eyes and let myself be led by this simple sensation of being cared for. Magnus doesn't rush a single gesture: he washes every part with patience, as if wanting to ensure nothing is left behind. The contact is warm, protective. I take a deep breath; my body relaxes, and a smile escapes me without me even realizing it.

It’s strange and wonderful to be cared for by him like this.

As soon as he finishes washing me, I kiss his chest and turn him around. I kneel behind him, sliding my fingers into his beautiful hole, pulling my mess out and making him sigh. Once I feel there is nothing left inside, I stand up.

"All clean, love," I say, kissing his chin delicately.

"Thank you, love," he replies, and a smile forms on my lips.

When we finish the shower, I take the towel and begin to dry him carefully, sliding the fabric slowly over his skin until he is completely dry. Suddenly, he takes the towel from my hands and repeats the gesture with the same calmness and affection, a tenderness that makes my heart race.

Afterward, he hangs the towel on the hook while I grab a clean sheet from the shelf. I go to the bed, remove the old one, and replace it with the fresh one, leaving everything crisp and tidy.

He lies down, and I soon join him, resting my face on his chest. I pull the blanket over us and hug him tightly, enough to make him sigh. He doesn't say anything; he just places a kiss on my hair in a silence that is worth more than any words.

It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. Exhaustion overtakes him quickly, and I understand. The day was intense... intense as hell. Just remembering the reason makes the rage and hurt boil inside me again.

I close my eyes, reliving the exact moment I crossed paths with that damn guard in the hallway.

I was walking calmly down the corridor, anxious to bring food to my god.

A silly smile formed on my lips just remembering his words. "Love." Holy shit... Magnus called me love.

My heart raced instantly, as if it wanted to tear through my chest from so much happiness. It’s ridiculous how much he affects me; one single word and I’m already floating, completely surrendered.

I am madly in love with this man. Every gesture, every look, destroys me and rebuilds me at the same time. I need to control myself... take a deep breath before I end up having a heart attack from all this emotion.

But honestly? If I were to die like this, with my heart beating for him, it would be a good way to go. Just not now; I don't want to leave him a widower. We still have a long life ahead of us.

I looked ahead and saw that prick Harry coming toward me with a smirk. This guy really hasn't learned his lesson.

"Hello, Adrian. Quite a show."

I furrowed my brow, not understanding.

"What do you mean, quite a show?"

He let out a laugh and stepped even closer.

"You and that guy, that Magnus fellow. Kissing in the corridor yesterday... I mean, that didn't even look like a kiss. It looked like the two of you were devouring each other."

I huffed, irritated by his presence.

"If you saw it, you should have gotten lost."

He laughed.

"And miss the show?"

My gaze turned cold.

"Did you see the expression on my god's face?"

Harry gave a nervous smile but still stepped closer. He’s too close. He truly has no love for his own life. My hand started to itch to grab his neck and snap it right here.

"Yes, I saw. He made a beautiful expression."

I tilted my head to the side, observing his neck.

Where should I strike?

I open my eyes, returning to the present. I look at Magnus’s sleeping face and remember that this was where everything fell apart.

He appeared out of nowhere, striking Harry with a punch, believing I had betrayed him.

The pain was unbearable. Being falsely accused tore me up inside. Even worse was when he wouldn't let me get close, when he pushed me away with that icy look, full of fury. My chest felt like it was collapsing, my heart threatening to stop.

Despair came like a wave, and my nails tore at my scalp until I was ripping out tufts of hair. I couldn't breathe, my head was spinning; the feeling of having lost everything suffocated me.

Seeing Magnus walk past me, ignoring my cries, was like being stabbed twice: once by the cruel accusation, and again by the helplessness of not being able to prove my innocence.

The tears fell without warning. I’ve never cried in front of anyone, not even when my mother died. But in that moment, the humiliation and fear consumed me completely.

Then Harry coughed up blood. That was the spark. I lost control; I lost my footing. Rage took the place of reason and I lunged. I don’t remember every movement, only the fury guiding me. No thoughts, just the impulse to do what needed to be done.

There was no beauty in it. It was brutal, instinctive, wild. The blows repeated until his body ceased all reaction. When silence finally fell, it hurt more than every punch I’d landed.

I wanted to prove my loyalty in an unquestionable way, to show Magnus that I belonged to him entirely.

In the middle of the madness, I felt the urge to rip the bastard’s heart out and hand it to him as proof of devotion—a grotesque image that would make anyone vomit. But I knew that would only push him further away.

So I decided to prove it another way. If necessary, I would give back control; I would let him dominate everything again, let him retake the throne. I would do anything to make him believe in me. Anything, just to never see that doubt in his eyes again.

I let out a sigh and wrap my arms around him tightly, my face buried in his warm chest, feeling the serene rhythm of his breathing. Tears threaten to come back, blurring my vision.

It still hurts, even after everything—after the pleasurable punishment, the touch that mixes possession and desire. The wound remains open, throbbing silently deep in my chest.

I think it’s because of that scene. The way he looked at me—cold, heartless, as if I were a stranger. It was the same look from the beginning, when he hated me and wanted me dead. That memory is burned into me, and I know it will never go away.

My Magnus’s insecurity is very sensitive.