Chapter 133 133
Catherine's POV
Why should it come as a surprise to you that I'm the blood moon witch? The signs were always there.
My frequent travels, my red hair, my mother's witchy spirit beckoning me to the distance. It has always been me killing those children because Daevir won't give me mine, shaking up his territory so he won't have the peace he deserves.
And Ares, I'm not even done with him. Once I am, Daevir will fall to his knees and crumble.
Theron watches me with that calculating stillness of his. He always studies before he reacts. Measures before he moves. It is one of the reasons I chose him.
I let the crimson robe slide from my shoulders.
It pools at my feet like spilled wine.
For a breath, I simply stand there, no mask, no theatrics, no manipulation. Just the woman who has fought too long in shadows.
Then I cross the space between us.
Without hesitation, I throw my arms around him and kiss him.
His body is warm despite the lingering scent of battle and herbs. I press myself against his chest and breathe him in, steel, smoke, moonlight.
“I missed you,” I murmur against his skin.
My lips find his jaw, then his mouth again. Kisdining, urgent, claiming, needing to remind myself he is real and here and mine in ways Amarien will never be.
For a moment, he does not respond.
His arms remain at his sides.
Cold and Measured.
I pull back slightly, studying his face.
“Theron,” I whisper.
His hands finally settle at my waist, but there is no fire in the touch.
“How is my son?” he asks.
I soften despite myself.
“He is strong,” I say, and this time the warmth in my voice is genuine. “Stronger than any child his age should be.”
Theron’s eyes sharpen faintly.
“He trains?” he asks.
“He commands,” I correct quietly.
A flicker of pride moves through his expression.
“He shows signs already,” I continue. “The blood answers him. The moon bends toward him.”
Theron’s jaw tightens, but I know that look.
“He will surpass us,” I add. “He already carries more control than I did at his age.”
“I wish to see him.”
There it is.
“He knows your name,” I say softly. “He is dtilly little, but he does.”
Theron’s gaze flickers briefly, just a fraction softer, before hardening again.
“I will see him,” he repeats.
I place my hand against his chest, right over his heart.
“You will,” I promise.
He studies me carefully.
“When?” he asks.
“In due time.”
His brows draw together slightly.
“The war escalates,” he says. “Daevir grows reckless.”
“All the more reason to keep our son where he is,” I counter gently. “Daevir is fond of him. But not so fond as he is of Ares,” I frowned.
Theron does not argue, but I can feel the tension coiled beneath his skin.
“You think I do not want you both near me?” he asks quietly.
I smile faintly.
“I know you do.”
I forced a smile to assure him I wanted this more than ever.
“You must secure Amarien first,” I say carefully. “Bind her. Harness the moon. End Daevir.”
His eyes darken at her name.
“Yes,” he says.
I lean up and kiss him again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“We are close,” I whisper against his lips. “Closer than we have ever been.”
He rests his forehead briefly against mine, but even in that intimacy, I feel it…
His mind is already elsewhere.
“Our son will grow to be like you,” I say, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
Theron watches me carefully, but I see the flicker in his eyes.
“Drathen does not flinch,” I continue. “The tutors fear him already.”
A faint curve touches Theron’s mouth.
“He should be feared.”
I smile.
Theron nods slowly.
“His eyes,” I add softly. “Blue. Exactly like yours.”
That earns more of a reaction than anything else.
“And his power?” Theron asks.
“Also yours,” I say proudly. “Raw. Commanding. It bends before it breaks.”
I step closer to him again, resting my hand lightly against his chest.
“I have watched Daevir unravel,” I add, letting a small smile slip free. “Every day, he grows more distressed.”
Theron’s gaze sharpens.
“He suspects Amarien,” I continue. “He believes she poisons Ares. He believes she moves against him from the shadows.”
A low sound hums in Theron’s throat.
“Good.”
I tilt my head slightly.
“I enjoy watching him doubt her,” I admit. “Watching the fracture widen.”
Theron's eyes drifted away from me.
“I enjoy winning,” I correct.
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once.
“Soon,” he says, voice steady and cold as steel, “I will be united with Drathen.”
My heart stirs at that.
“After I have taken Daevir down,” he continues.
The certainty in him is intoxicating.
“And Ares?” I ask quietly.
“He will be gone,” Theron replies without hesitation. “One way or another.”
His jaw tightens.
“When Daevir falls, when Ares is removed, there will be no one left to challenge us.”
His eyes meet mine.
“It will be just you, Drathen, and I.”
For a moment, I let myself imagine it.
Our son was raised openly at his father’s side: Emperor of the realm.
I step into him again, wrapping my arms around his neck. This time, he responds more fully, his hands firm at my waist.
We kiss, slower now, less urgent, more deliberate.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against his.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He goes still.
For a heartbeat, I think he might ignore it.
Instead, he exhales slowly.
“I am incapable of loving,” he says.
I blink once.
“What?” I ask softly.
His gaze does not waver.
“I was not built for it.”
My chest tightens.
“But, there is one woman,” he continues, “who holds what remains of my heart.”
I already know the name before he says it.
“Amarien.”
The sound of her name in his mouth feels like acid.
Heat and fury rush through me.
After everything.
After the child, I bore him.
After the blood I have spilled for his ascent.
“She is your weakness,” I say sharply.
He does not answer.
Silence stretches between us, but it is no longer intimate. It is cutting.
“You stand here,” I say quietly, struggling to keep my voice steady, “planning a future with our son and me.”
“Yes.”
“And yet your heart…”
“Is not yours to claim,” he finishes calmly.
The composure in him only deepens the sting.
I step back.
The warmth drains from the room.
“You would bind Amarien to you,” I say. “Use her power. Claim her under the moon...and what? Keep her as yours. You should discard her!”
“She will be mine for as long as I live,” he replies.
I bend abruptly, snatching up my discarded robe.
“Be careful,” I say tightly. “That woman will ruin you like you ruin everything she touches.”
He says nothing.
That silence enrages me more than denial would.
I pull the robe over my shoulders, fastening it with sharp movements.
I turn and walk toward the door when a thought flickers in my mind.
If he cannot love…Then I will ensure he never has the chance to choose her over what we have built.
I opened the door without looking back and slammed it shut behind me.