I kiss her.
This is a claiming kiss, a promise kiss, a kiss that says you are mine and I am yours and nothing will change that. She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound, pulling her closer until she is nearly in my lap.
"Let me take care of you," I murmur against her lips. "Let me make you feel good. Let me show you what it means to be held."
"Yes." The word is barely audible. "Yes, please."
I stand, lifting her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist instinctively, her arms around my neck, and I carry her not to the bedroom but to the thick rug before the fire. This is where we belong tonight. In the heart of the home she has made. In the warmth she has created.
I lay her down gently, reverently, and take a moment just to look at her.
The firelight turns her skin to gold. Her hair spreads across the rug like dark water. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on me with a vulnerability that makes my chest ache.
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
"I love you," I tell her, because she needs to hear it. Because I need to say it. "I have loved you since you left tea outside mydoor. Since you sat with me through my nightmares. Since you looked at me and saw something worth saving."
"Cadeon..."
"Let me worship you." I lower myself over her, bracing on my forearms. "Let me show you what you deserve."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers. She moans into my mouth, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. I can feel her need through the bond, sharp and desperate, but underneath it is still that fear. That wall she has built around herself.
I need to break it down. Gently. Lovingly. One brick at a time.
I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat where her pulse flutters. My fingers find the fastenings of her formal gown, working them open slowly.
"Tell me what you need," I murmur against her skin.
"I don't know."
"Then tell me what you feel."
"Scared." Her voice breaks. "And safe. And desperate. And loved. And terrified that I'm going to mess this up."
"You won't." I peel the gown away from her shoulders, revealing bare skin beneath. No chemise tonight. She dressed for this, even if she didn't know it. "You cannot mess this up, Iris. This is not a test. This is just us, choosing each other."
"The magic?—"
"The magic will do what it does. Our only task is to be honest." I press a kiss to her collarbone. "Can you be honest with me?"
"I'm trying."
"Try harder." I look up at her, holding her gaze as my hand slides down her side, over her hip, gathering the fabric of her skirt. "Tell me what you really need. Not what you think you should need. What you actually, desperately need."
Her breath catches. I watch her struggle with the answer. Watch her fight against decades of conditioning that tell her needing things is weakness.
"You," she finally whispers. "I need you. I need you to hold me and touch me and make me feel like I'm not falling apart. I need to not be in control for once. I need..." She squeezes her eyes shut. "I need you to take care of me. And I hate that I need it. I hate that I can't just be strong."
"Needing is not weakness." I strip her gown the rest of the way off, leaving her bare beneath me. "Needing is human. And you are allowed to be human, Iris. You are allowed to need things. You are allowed to need me."
The clock strikes eleven fifty-five.
Five minutes.
I can feel the magic building in the air, thick and expectant. The bond between us pulses, gossamer-thin but alive. Waiting. Watching.
"I need you inside me," she breathes, and the admission costs her something. I can see it in her face, feel it through the bond. She is giving me a piece of herself she has never given anyone.
