I pad across the room quickly, then press myself against his bare back and wrap my arms around his waist. Emotion clogs my throat. “I’m so sorry, Rhys.”
His chest vibrates with an enormous inhale as he turns in my arms and stares at me. His dark-blue eyes, void of all emotion. Clearly in shock. After a few long beats, he runs a hand over the back of my head and pulls me against him. “He’s gone.”
Rhys buries his face in my hair, and we hold each other in silence for a long time.
His phone rings a few times, but he makes no move to answer it.
He makes no moves at all. Just stands there with me in his arms.
I’ve dealt with shock before, my own and my patients’, and I’m not sure Rhys will have the time it’ll take to process his shock before people start descending. I can’t even imagine the actual ramifications of the king’s death, but I think it’s safe to assume it won’t be long before he’s needed.
When I lift my head, forcing him to do the same, his unfocused eyes look through me, not at me.
I hate shock almost as much as I hate grief. This man might not be mine, not forever, but for today, he is. And for today, I’ll be here for him. Today, I’ll take care of him because I’m not sure anyone else will see Rhys Windsor, the man today, or if they’ll just see their new king.
Holy. Shit.
The. King.
And there goes my own spiraling fear, barreling down on me again.
Time to box that shit up and lock it down.
With his hand in mine, I press a gentle kiss to his lips and silently lead him into the en suite bathroom. He has to get moving, and I’m hoping a hot shower may help bring him back to me. Rhys follows my lead quietly.Too quiet.In the short time I’ve known him, quiet has never been his MO. Bossy, yes.Grumpy, maybe. Incredibly sexy... well apparently, I married the man, so that about sums that one up. But he’s never been silent. His big brain works too quickly for that.
I reach in and turn the shower sprays and heads on. All eight of them. And once I’ve got the water temperature where I want it, I look at this man...
My new husband.
Mornea’s new king.
Dear God. That’s going to take some getting used to.
Not that I expect to be here when that happens.
Crap. I’ve got to focus so I don’t completely lose it.
Easier said than done.
I consider stripping off his boxer briefs, but decide it’s not worth it and instead guide him into the shower still clothed. And when he refuses to let go of my hand, I follow him in. Clothes be damned.
The glass door closes behind us as I step under the spray, and Rhys drops my hand long enough to grab my hips and pull me to him. He doesn’t move. Just holds me as water rains down from every direction, soaking my hair and my skin until my tee clings to my chest and legs.
Standing there, under the hot spray in his arms, I realize I have a choice to make.
Take control or let circumstances control me.
Guess it’s a good thing I’ve never been one to be controlled.
I take the shampoo from the tile shelf and pour it into my palm, then lift onto my toes and run my hands through his dirty-blond hair. Massaging his scalp and lathering the suds until they’re sluicing down his body, and his shoulders finally relax.
Rhys closes his eyes and lowers himself to the bench as he tugs me closer, making it significantly easier to wash the shampoo out, then repeat with conditioner and eventually body wash.
I’m not sure how to explain it, but something about the moment is as calming for me as I’m hoping it is for him. My hands skim over his slick skin as he drops his forehead to my chest. “Don’t leave.”
The anguish in his voice breaks my heart.
“I’m right here.” I lift his face and hold it in my hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
