A woman approached him, her steps hesitant, her eyes casting downward in deference. She was pretty enough—golden-haired and slender, dressed in a revealing gown of emerald silk—but she was not who he wanted. She spoke quietly, her voice tentative, as if sensing the storm that raged beneath his cold exterior. “My lord… how may I serve you tonight?”
Her words struck something deep within him, igniting the storm he had been barely holding back. With a growl, he pulled her closer, his hand still tight around her wrist as he pushed her back against the wall. The tension between them crackled like lightning, the air thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. He could feel her warmth against him, her breath steady and even despite the intensity of the moment.
Without a word, he reached for her again, his hand wrapping around her neck—not to hurt, but to hold her there, to make sure she didn’t escape. His fingers pressed against her pulse, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his thumb. His touch was rough, possessive, but there was a softness in the way his thumb brushed the delicate skin of her throat, as if testing the boundaries between dominance and tenderness.
Content Set to Go Live: Oct 1, 2024 on Ao3
Aemond’s fury over Lyra’s manipulation drives him to seek her out, confronting the woman who both infuriates and captivates him. As their confrontation escalates, the tension between them explodes into a dangerous, primal connection.
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Lyra responded in kind, her hands sliding up his chest to grip the fabric of his tunic as she kissed him back just as fiercely. Her mouth moved against his with a desperation that matched his own, and Aemond could feel the control he had been clinging to slipping away with every passing second. He deepened the kiss, his tongue parting her lips as he claimed her mouth with a need that bordered on feral. His free hand moved to her waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pulled her tighter against him. The feel of her body beneath his touch, the heat radiating from her skin, sent a rush of desire through him that he could no longer ignore. He wanted her—no, he needed her. He needed to lose himself in her, to drown out the chaos in his mind with the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, the heat of her body.
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As anger and desire collide, will Aemond’s fury consume them both—or will Lyra’s calm unravel him even further?
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