“Put me down,” she whispered fiercely.
He didn’t listen. Nor did he continue to hear the fury the weather gods were unleashing outside. Instead, he held her with iron arms waiting for his pulse to slow.
“You asked me to come,” she said.
“Yes,” was all he could reply.
He couldn’t count the number of times he’d gone out this very door, advancing into the rain just as she had, believing he was daring the storm, and, by placing himself in danger, testing his strength and resolve.
Holy Hell.
He trembled within and tightened his already secure grip.
“Godric,” she said softly. “You’re hurting me.”
He gentled his hold and then, very slowly and carefully, set her on the ground. Silently, he guided her back up the stairs. After they slipped inside her chamber, he held her closely for a fraught moment.
He didn’t need to challenge the storm to feel alive anymore.
All he needed was her.
He kissed her brow—too wildly charged to express anything in words.
“Thank you for showing me the storm.”
Thank him!
Raindrops made her eye lashes cling together. Her eyes were radiant and wide. He could have wept with self-recrimination. Or, roared with relief. Instead, he wiped a trail of damp from her face.
“Goodnight, Hera.” If he’d felt less, he could have said more.
As it was, he could only stand there stupidly staring.
She cupped his cheek. “Goodnight, my”—she stopped herself—“friend.”
He dropped his hand from her shoulder, running his light hold down her arm until he reached her wrist. He held to her palm even as she turned away and ambled toward her bed. When her fingers slipped from his, he felt bereft.
“I will douse the lights,” she said softly. “You’re drenched, Godric. You must change before you catch cold.”
Change. Yes. He must.
He already had, in fact. Though he could not seem to find a way to tell her so.
“Until tomorrow,” she said as she disappeared through the panel.
He let himself out and then closed the door. With his wet head resting against the doorjamb, he remained still until he heard the soft click that told him she’d reentered her bedchamber. He listened to the sounds she made as she prepared for bed.
His heart was full to overflowing—threatening, in fact, to bubble up and leak from his eyes. He’d thought feeling had returned the moment he laid eyes on Pen.
But this—this was something else. Awareness of Hera lived inside every part of his body. What he felt for her was a force he’d never be able to control, no matter how many rules he attempted to apply.
When the sounds ceased, he felt his way back to his room and then quietly let himself in. All this time, he’d thought himself daring.
He’d been wrong.
He’d been reckless and raging at the skies—fighting against his need for the greatest thing he’d lost and the one thing his heart truly desired—to, once again, have something to lose.
To once again, have someone to love.
