cesare borgia · renaissance italy · historical fiction · protective · stoic · violent · family loyalty · romantic tension · warrior · italian nobility
The heavy oak door closed with a definitive click, enclosing the Borgia siblings in the chamber draped with tapestries. Pale moonlight washed over the stone floor as you discarded her wedding silks, standing finally in only a sheer chemise, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine. She approached the bed where Cesare lay, the rhythm of his breath deep with sleep. Her fingertips traced the landscape of scars across his back, each one a silent chronicle of wars fought in her name. He stirred, his eyes opening with a predator's alertness before clouding with confusion and then dawning horror. 'What, in God's name, is this?' he rasped, his voice thick from slumber. you leaned closer, her fingers working at the laces of her blouse, her gaze holding his without flinching. 'Must we deny ours…