She was my soulmate
1073 Words
Lorena’s POV.
I don’t know why those words slipped out. I feel like such an i***t. The meal was incredible, honestly the best I’ve ever tasted. Why did I lie like that? Was I trying to impress him that badly?
Asher’s smile, warm and genuine, makes my heart flutter in a way that feels out of my control. My heartbeat quickens, and I can’t help but wonder—why does everything about him have to make me so complicated inside?
I scramble for a way to change the mood, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “What do you do for a living, Asher?”
He hesitates, as if choosing his words carefully. “I look after… people,” he says, his voice low.
I tilt my head, trying to understand. “Like a maid? Or a nanny?”
He chokes on his drink, laughter spilling out of him, and suddenly, I’m grinning like a fool. His deep, infectious laughter makes my chest warm. “Not quite like that, my angel,” he says between chuckles, his eyes softening. “More like a boss. A leader.”
I raise an eyebrow, amused. “Like a king?” The playful edge in my voice hides the curiosity blooming inside me.
He rubs the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh. “I, uh, guess you could call it that.”
I study him more closely now. A king? There’s something about him—his presence, his confidence—that fits the description. He radiates power, an unspoken command, but with such a kindness in his eyes, I struggle to picture him on a throne.
My gaze drifts to his muscular arms and the strong lines of his torso. My mind wanders, imagining him without that shirt—naked, just as he was by the water. Heat builds inside me, and I have to fight the urge to squirm under my own thoughts.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lorena, stop it! My cheeks flush, and I quickly cover my eyes, lying back on the grass. Why does my mind insist on betraying me like this?
I open my eyes, startled to find his face inches from mine, concern etched into his features. His arms are braced on either side of my head, his eyes filled with something deeper than worry. My breath catches, and for a moment, all I can think about is how badly I want him to kiss me. Just once.
He shifts, lying beside me, and I feel the weight of the moment lift just a little. Thank god he can’t hear my thoughts—I’m not even sure I understand them myself.
I search my mind, trying to pull us back to the conversation before my thoughts took over. Oh, right—he’s a king. But wait… if he’s a king… “Is Queen Lenora your mother? Or your wife?” I blurt out, curiosity pushing past my hesitation. I roll onto my side, propping my head up to face him.
His chest rises and falls slowly as he considers my question. “She was my soulmate,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. His eyes remain closed, but the weight of those words sinks into me, heavy and real. My heart aches in response. I feel foolish for letting my thoughts wander so selfishly before.
A few tears escape, and I’m grateful his eyes are still closed so he can’t see. But then his eyes open, catching my sadness, and his hand gently strokes the tears from my face. His touch is soft, comforting in a way that nearly undoes me.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice tender.
How can I even begin to answer that? There’s no way I can admit the truth—that I’ve somehow developed feelings for him, that I’m jealous of his queen. My throat tightens at the very thought.
“Are you sure your queen is still alive?” I ask, before slapping a hand over my mouth, horrified at the words I just uttered.
His smile is brighter than I expect. “I know she is. I’ve never felt closer to her than I do now.” The happiness in his voice makes me feel something unexpected—relief. His joy is infectious, pulling a smile from me as well.
“What does she look like?” I ask, my voice softer now, more curious than before.
He gazes at me with a tender expression, as if the memory of her brings him peace. “She’s the most beautiful being to ever walk this world. Her eyes are a deep, glowing purple, her features flawless as if sculpted by the gods. She has long, wavy white hair that fades into purple. And she has a birthmark—right here.” He unbuttons his shirt slowly, revealing a crescent moon mark beneath his collarbone.
My breath hitches. His description—it’s so vivid, so specific… and familiar.
Without thinking, my fingers reach out to trace the mark on his skin. “How… how did you get this?” I whisper, feeling a strange pull toward the truth, though I don’t fully understand it.
His breath is heavy as he watches my fingers move across his chest. “After we marked each other, I gained this,” he says quietly. “And the tattoos along the right side of my body—they match hers.”
I pull at his shirt, and he helps slide it off. My eyes trace the intricate designs on his skin, the tattoos winding from his hand up to his shoulder, down his torso—elemental, familiar in a way that sends my mind spinning. My fingers follow the path of the tattoos, tracing every line as if in a trance.
He swallows hard, his breathing slow and controlled as I trace the lines across his abs. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions, memories, and confusion. This can’t be real. My entire existence feels like a lie, unraveling before my eyes.
The throbbing in my head intensifies, physical pain surging through me as the truth tries to break free. I can’t think anymore—I don’t want to think.
I look up at him, locking eyes with the man who feels both familiar and distant. Without hesitation, without thought, I close the gap between us and press my lips to his.
- Writer
