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chapter twenty-three, alone.
FRANCESCA WAS NERVOUS, she was pacing around in her room as her nerves grew into panic and fear. What if she wasn't a good queen? What if she couldn't give Aaron an heir? What would happen then? Would she be killed?
The panic was never ending, it grew in the morning and stayed consistent even through the late hours of the night. Francesca didn't know what to do, but she knew she didn't want to feel this ever again. Her breath escaped her lungs in pants—starved from the oxygen she so desperately needed to live. But this wasn't living, was it? Living was to be happy, loved, to be with people she cared about—people like Aaron!
Yes....Aaron, that's it! She needed to find Aaron! He would calm her down, no doubt. So, with the thought of Aaron in her mind, Francesca marched to the gym on the other side of the castle. The only reason it was there was for Aaron to stay fit, and Francesca knew what times he would be there.
She swung the door open, but quickly took notice of a very sweaty, very hot, very shirtless Aaron. She stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly thankful that Aaron hadn't heard her when she walked in. It was like all of the panic left her body and was replaced with an unknown heat. The door had started to close and hit her in the arm, snapping her out of her daze. She held onto the handles but couldn't keep herself from staring at Aaron.
His chisled chest shone with sweat, his abs having a defined indent that Francesca just wanted to run her fingers along. No matter what Francesca couldn't deny it anymore, she was attracted to Aaron. Severely attracted. It was like her eyes were glued to him and his body, her cheeks burning and her legs almost trembling. Thank god for the door, it was the only thing keeping her stable and up. Although, it proved to be even more difficult as a heat spread through her body and a shiver running down her spine. She had to squeeze her thighs together, trying to stop the heat forming between them but she was too late.
"Francesca?" Aaron said, snapping her out of her daze. Francesca's cheeks heated up, her eyes still trained on his chest. She started to stammer, unable to produce a sentence. "Whats wrong, love?" Aaron asked, softly, moving closer to the girl. His muscles were still flexed since he had just set down some weights, and suddenly, Francesca felt her panic set back in.
"N- nothing! I'll just- um, I'll go!" She quickly shook her head, walking away before Aaron could even say anything. Her skirt almost tripped her as she ran back to her room, tears falling from her cheeks as every bit of fear she had came crashing back down, and now she had to worry about something else too. She would forever be emotionally alone.
It took no less than ten minutes for Aaron to bust in the room, completely clothed. He was panting slightly, his feet carrying him quickly. He only stopped when he reached Francesca. He went to reach for her hands but she pulled away, her breathing turning into short pants as hyperventilating.
"Francesca, woah, what's wrong? Tell me, please," Aaron pleaded, grabbing her hands, successfully. She started to cry harder as her heart thumped in her chest painfully.
"I am alone! I am alone in this world-" but she wasn't abele to finish her sentence.
"No you are not, you hear me? You are not alone. You have me, you will always have me," Aaron assured her, pulling the girl to his chest.
Francesca, thankfully, had calmed down, but it seamed every time Aaron went to pull away she would clutch onto him tighter—like he was her lifeline. And truthfully, he was.
So, they broke a big rule in the rule book: he slept not only in her room, but her bed that night. He held her close and didn't let go even as she fell into a deep slumber. He couldn't really explain it but it just felt right, to have her in his arms at night.
Truth be told, he couldn't wait until they couldn't be stopped from this when they were married, the notion of knowing she was his wife was too tempting to pass up. And honestly, he didn't want to pass up.
