Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 198: Long Overdue...

Chapter 198: Long Overdue...

"You drank three cups of it during the banquet."

Her brow lifted in amusement. "You remembered?"

"I remember everything you like," Damian replied with a proud smile.

A long silence stretched between them. She didn’t look away.

"That’s dangerous," she said at last.

"I know," he replied. "So is not telling someone what they mean to you before the next fire erupts."

Her eyes softened, just a fraction. "Is that what this is? A confession?"

"No... maybe? Uhmm... yeah, it is." Damian said, leaning back on his hands. "It is also a reminder. That outside the noise and knives, we’re still human."

She studied him for a while before replying. "And what if I don’t believe that anymore?"

He looked toward the sky, then back to her, leaning in. "Then let me remind you."

Damian’s hand lightly brushed against Evelina’s as he leaned in, just grazing the edge of her tunic. His warm breath mixed with hers, carrying the smell of wine. In that moment, the space between them disappeared—not just physically, but in everything else too.

And then, his lips touched hers.

At first, it was gentle and careful, like the first flicker of a flame touching dry wood.

She didn’t move away.

Instead, she leaned into him with the slow grace of someone who’d been waiting longer than she dared admit.

Her lips parted, inviting him deeper. Damian took the invitation like a man starving—his mouth molding to hers, warm and sure, breath catching as she sucked on his lower lip, then gently bit it.

He groaned against her, a low sound curling in the back of his throat.

They didn’t pull apart, their mouths shifting between playful teasing and deep desire. Their tongues brushed against each other in a way that surprised them both, yet felt completely natural.

She held onto the collar of his tunic, pulling him closer, while his hand tangled in her hair, keeping her near.

Then she pulled back, just a fraction, lips flushed and curved. "That was reckless," she whispered. "... though much needed."

Damian smirked, lips brushing hers as he spoke. "And long overdue."

"Well," she said, voice a little husky, "it was... not awful."

Damian gave a low, amused sound. "That’s your version of a compliment?"

"Take it or leave it."

"I’ll take it," he murmured, and kissed her again—briefly this time, just a lingering press that made her hum.

Eventually, they pulled apart with mutual reluctance, and Damian reached for the wine. "Alright," he said, pouring a second round, "before this gets too emotional, allow me to distract you with tales of my tragic, noble youth."

Evelina reclined on her elbows, her smile curling at the edges. "Do any of them involve you crying?"

"Several," he admitted, handing her the cup. "But I’ll start with the one where I tried to shift for the first time and ended up half-wolf, half-boy, completely naked, and stuck halfway up a tree."

She laughed. Loud, unguarded, like it shocked her as much as him.

"Storm thought it was hilarious," he continued. "Zade didn’t. He was so mad I got the shift first. He tried to jump off the roof a week later just to trigger it."

"And did it work?"

"No, but he broke both ankles and made our tutor faint."

Evelina snorted into her cup. "I wish I’d seen that."

He grinned. "You would’ve liked my mother. She caught us both with a broom and whacked us into the hallway like rabid foxes."

They slid into the meal with an ease that neither expected. The wine loosened the edges of their voices, and the food—plucked from familiar banquets—made everything feel like a private joke.

"You used to eat around the olives," Damian said, flicking one off the plate and into the grass.

"They’re a distraction," Evelina retorted. "A briny, treacherous distraction."

"You just lack taste."

"I have taste," she said, tossing a berry at him. "I’m just not a masochist."

He caught the berry midair and popped it into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated smugness. "Mmm. Taste of victory."

She laughed—actually laughed, bright and open. "Tell me you didn’t practice that smug face in the mirror as a child."

He reclined back on one arm, smirking. "I was born with it."

Their eyes held—longer this time—but the moment passed as Evelina reached for more fruit. "Alright, Your Highness. Serious question."

He raised a brow.

"Who would win in a swordfight—you or me?"

"I haven’t seen you with a sword," he said, smug. "But I’ve seen what you can do with your mind. That’s far more dangerous."

That earned him a narrowed gaze and a hidden smile. "Careful, Your Highness. Flattery might get you more kissing."

He leaned back on one elbow. "I’m counting on it."

As the last of the food dwindled and the wine mellowed their edges, Damian reclined fully onto the tapestry, hands behind his head, eyes on the rustling canopy above.

Then Damian said quietly, "Sometimes I forget I didn’t ask for this."

She turned her head toward him. "What do you mean?"

He didn’t look at her. "The crown. The expectation. All of it. Sometimes it feels like I inherited a story someone else wrote, and I’m just... acting it out. Hoping I don’t mess up the ending."

Evelina was quiet for a moment. "You haven’t."

His jaw tightened. "Not yet."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. Just the wind in the leaves, the hum of distant crickets, the beat of heart against heart.

Then, softly—so softly—it almost didn’t seem to come from her:

"Was there ever something between you and Selene?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence stretch, weighted and uncertain.

Storm stirred uneasily in his chest. That sounds very much like a trap question, the wolf whispered. You don’t have to answer it... at least, it’d keep her heart clean.

But Damian never had the stomach for easy lies, and he did not want to keep anything from her.

"There was," he said quietly.