CHAPTER 52: CHAPTER : 52 : A QUIET EVENING WITH MY GOBLIN WIFE!

The sky outside their window was turning amber, the last threads of sunlight filtering into the chamber. The room was quiet—eerily so, compared to the usual chaos of Luna’s clinginess, Ivy’s curiosity, Fluffynugget’s squeaks, and Leona’s boundless energy.

They had taken Leona with them, trying to teach her how to fly. Aiden and Lysandra just hopes, ’Just don’t teach her how to breath fire.’

But not tonight.

Tonight, it was just the two of them.

Aiden lay propped up against the pillows, his body still recovering from the battle that had nearly shattered him. His chest rose and fell steadily now, his breathing stronger than it had been since he woke. Bandages were still wrapped around his torso, but compared to yesterday, he looked alive again.

And seated right beside him, perched elegantly with a wooden tray in her lap, was Lysandra.

"Say ’ah,’" she murmured.

Aiden arched an eyebrow. "Really? You’re going to feed me like a child?"

Her lips curved into a sly smile. "If you prefer to starve, that can be arranged."

He chuckled softly, opening his mouth. "Fine, fine. Ah."

The spoon touched his lips, and he swallowed the warm stew she had prepared. It was simple—vegetables, broth, a hint of spice—but to him, it tasted better than any feast.

Lysandra’s eyes softened as she watched him eat. "Good. You need strength."

"I’d recover faster if I was allowed to walk around," Aiden muttered.

Her hand darted forward, pressing against his chest—not hard, but firmly enough to make him stop. "You nearly died. Twice. Do not speak of walking until I allow it."

Aiden raised his hands in surrender, smirking. "Yes, ma’am."

Lysandra huffed, but the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

For a while, they stayed in that rhythm—her feeding him, Aiden making occasional teasing remarks, Lysandra scolding him softly but always smiling as she did. The silence between them was comfortable, filled only with the clink of spoon against bowl and the fading song of cicadas outside.

When the tray was finally set aside, Lysandra took a cloth and dabbed the corner of his mouth. "Messy," she whispered.

Aiden caught her wrist, holding it gently. "Thanks. For everything."

Her breath hitched. "...For feeding you?"

"For saving me. For staying at my side. For calling me... your husband."

The words hung between them, heavier than the fading sunlight.

Lysandra lowered her gaze, her voice softer now. "...Do you regret it?"

The question stabbed at his heart. He tilted his head, staring at her. "Do I look like a man who regrets having the most beautiful woman in the world as his wife?"

Lysandra froze. Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, her eyes shimmered, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Sir Aiden..."

He tugged her closer by the wrist still caught in his hand. She stumbled forward, nearly falling onto the bed, her long golden hair spilling across his chest. Their faces were close now—so close that her breath tickled his lips.

"I don’t regret it," he whispered. "Not for a second."

Her body trembled against his. Slowly, she leaned in, her forehead pressing against his. "...Then allow me to be selfish. Just this once."

Her lips brushed his. Soft, hesitant, tasting faintly of the stew she had shared with him.

Aiden deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of her neck. Lysandra melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt as though afraid he would vanish if she let go.

The kiss broke only when they were breathless, and Lysandra pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. Her blush was fierce, her voice barely more than a whisper. "...Husband."

Aiden grinned. "Say it again."

She swatted his chest playfully, though she didn’t move away. "Do not get used to it."

He caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Too late. You’re stuck with me now."

For a while, they simply stayed like that—entangled in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten.

Lysandra eventually rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "...You terrify me sometimes," she admitted softly.

Aiden blinked. "Terrify you?"

"Yes. Because you throw yourself into danger without hesitation. Because you make promises that even kings would fear to make." Her grip on his shirt tightened. "...And because if you break, I will break with you."

Aiden’s chest ached at her words. He tilted her chin up, making her meet his gaze. "I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me, remember?"

Her lips trembled into a smile, tears threatening to spill but never quite falling.

Aiden brushed his thumb across her cheek, catching the warmth there. "Besides... aren’t you supposed to be the scary one? Goblin princess, daughter of the king, conqueror of my heart?"

That finally drew a laugh from her, soft and melodic. "You are insufferable."

"And you love it."

"...Yes," she whispered, her voice breaking on the word. "I do."

Their lips met again, slower this time. Tender. Lingering.

When they finally broke apart, Lysandra buried her face against his neck, her voice muffled but clear. "...If Luna comes back and sees this, she will throw a tantrum."

Aiden chuckled, stroking her hair. "Let her. Right now, it’s just us."

Lysandra’s breath warmed his collarbone as she lingered against his neck, her hair spilling over his chest in golden waves. She shifted slightly, and the curve of her body pressed more firmly into his side. The faintest tremor ran through her when Aiden’s hand brushed down her spine, settling just above the curve of her hips.

"Lysandra," he whispered, voice low, almost reverent.

She hummed softly in response but didn’t lift her face. He could feel her lips brush his skin as she spoke, her words muffled. "Do you know how dangerous you are, Sir Aiden?"

He smirked faintly. "Dangerous? You’re the one who nearly kills me with a look every time you blush."

That earned him a sharp pinch at his side, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed how his teasing struck home. "Insufferable," she muttered, but the way her fingers curled into his shirt betrayed the opposite.

Before he could reply, she shifted again, lifting her face to his. Her crimson eyes locked with his icy blue ones, and the tension in the air shifted—charged, expectant. Her lips parted, and she whispered, "Kiss me again."

Aiden didn’t hesitate.

Their mouths met, harder this time. There was no hesitation, no tentative brush—only raw need. Lysandra gasped against him when his hand slid up her side, fingers brushing the curve of her breast through the fabric of her dress. The sound she made was small, but it was enough to ignite something in him.

Her lips parted for him, and Aiden deepened the kiss, his tongue grazing hers. She responded with surprising fervor, her own hand coming up to clutch the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her breath hitched when his palm cupped her boobs fully, thumb pressing gently over the fabric.

Lysandra broke the kiss with a soft cry, her forehead falling against his. Her breaths came quick, shaky. "Sir Aiden..."

He pressed his lips to her jaw, then lower, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. Her skin tasted faintly of salt and the faintest trace of herbs from the stew earlier. His teeth grazed her pulse, and she shivered violently, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"You like that?" he murmured against her throat.

Her answer came in the form of a muffled moan, her body arching slightly into his touch. He smiled against her skin, his hand kneading her breast more firmly, drawing another soft cry from her lips.

"Aiden... gods... you can’t just..." Her protest dissolved into another gasp when he nipped lightly at her collarbone.

"I can’t just what?" he teased, his voice husky.

She pulled back enough to glare at him, her face flushed scarlet, but her trembling gave away how much she was reeling. "You cannot tease me like this."

"And yet," he whispered, capturing her lips again, his free hand sliding lower, gripping the curve of her waist possessively, "you melt every time I do."

Her moan against his mouth confirmed it.

The kiss grew hungrier. She shifted onto his lap without thinking, straddling him. The weight of her pressed against his hips, and Aiden groaned into her mouth, fingers digging into her waist. She rocked slightly, unintentionally, but the friction tore another moan from her throat.

"Ly..." His voice was rough now, strained with restraint.

She leaned back just enough to look at him, her lips swollen, her chest heaving. "Yes?"

"You’re going to break me all over again if you keep moving like that," he admitted, voice ragged.

Her blush deepened to crimson, but instead of retreating, she lowered herself, her lips brushing his ear. "Then break," she whispered, the words sultry and trembling at once.

Her tongue flicked over the shell of his ear, and his grip on her tightened instantly. He groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as her lips trailed down his neck. This time, it was her turn to kiss and bite, her fangs grazing his skin without piercing. His breath stuttered when she sucked gently at the hollow of his throat, leaving the faintest red mark.

"Lys..." His hands roamed, sliding down her back, groping firmly at her hips, then rising again to cup her breasts. She gasped against his neck, her hips bucking at the sudden squeeze.

The sound she made—half moan, half whimper—undid him.

He pulled her face back up to his, crushing her lips with his in a fevered kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, each movement desperate, needy. Lysandra whimpered, grinding against him in small, involuntary motions.

The bed creaked softly beneath them as the room filled with the sounds of their breaths, their lips, her muffled moans.

Her hands roamed too—down his chest, feeling the lines of muscle beneath the bandages, careful not to hurt him but unable to stop herself. When her fingers grazed low, he caught her wrist with a growl.

"Careful," he warned, his breath ragged. "You’ll push me too far."

Her eyes flickered, heat mingling with mischief. "...And if I want to?"

He stared at her, stunned by her boldness. The Lysandra who once clung to her title and dignity, who hid her vulnerability behind pride and poise, was now straddling him, flushed, trembling, yet daring enough to whisper such words.

His lips curved into a dangerous smirk. "Then, my wife, you’d better be prepared for what happens next."

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END OF Chapter : 52 : A QUITE EVENING WITH MY GOBLIN WIFE!

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