Each tender word is a knife twisting in my chest.
He helps me down, steadying me when my legs shake. I turn away as I smooth down my dress, using the moment to blink back the tears burning behind my eyes.
What kind of person am I? What kind of wife thinks of someone else while making love to her husband?
The husband who just risked his father’s wrath to help me see my brother. Who holds me through my nightmares. Who loves me with everything he has.
“We should talk about what Quinn said,” Kiernan says behind me, his voice turning serious. “What did he need to tell you?”
I force myself to turn back to him, to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. We need to get back to him, find out what he heard.”
“We will. I promise.” He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. The Marriage Bond glows softly beneath our skin. “But we need to be careful. My father is watching him closely.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
As Kiernan pulls me into his arms, holding me tight, I close my eyes and try to silence the voices warring in my head.
But Domanikk’s face remains, burned into my memory. And the guilt coils tighter around my heart with every beat.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Prince Kiernan
I watch Alaya sleep beside me, purple curls wild across the pillow, her chest rising and falling with soft snores. Our first morning together in our suite, and I haven’t stopped staring at her since I awoke.
We’re all broken in some way. Some just carry a few chips here and there—a life endured and survived. Others have shattered completely and have to piece themselves back together, often slightly different than before. Sometimes, a piece is lost forever, leaving us flawed and searching. Sometimes, the pieces go back together all wrong, and we’re irrevocably changed.
I can’t put Alaya back together; that she must do on her own, however much I wish I could ease her pain. I know she protects me from the darkest of her emotions, blocking our Bond, perhaps without even realizing it. The shadows I glimpse through the cracks tell me enough—I’ve walked through my own darkness and recognise its shape.
I felt more than she realises. More than I can name, more than I wish I had to carry. But I’ve made my peace with it—with all of it. Whatever happened in those days we were apart, whatever she thinks she’s protecting me from, she’s worth it. She’s always been worth it.
But right now, watching her stir, eyes fluttering open to a lazy violet gaze, I’ll take whatever pieces of her she’s willing to share.
“You know, that’s kind of creepy,” she says, dimples appearing in her cheeks.
I smile, eyebrows raised, and pull her to me. She snuggles into my side. “You make me sound like a lecherous Elder, not a husband admiring his beautif—” My breath catches as her breasts press against me.
“You’re laying it on thick this morning,” she says, blushing.
“Not thick enough, apparently, if you’re still doubting me.” I love that she still acts coy when she’d had my cock in her mouth just a few hours ago.
Alaya brushes her fingers through the black hairs on my chest. “My emotions are no mystery to you.” Desire makes me tremble under her touch, and she smirks when she feels it. “Are you ticklish?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Anticipation thrums in my chest as her hand moves lower, the thin duvet sliding down.
“Here?” Her fingers whisper across my stomach, muscles clenching. “Or what about here?” Moving lower to the V above my groin, fingers brushing gently at the line of hair there.
A sharp intake of breath. I tremble again, and she grins wickedly.
“I think you have your answer, though please don’t stop there.” Her hand moves lower. “Oh fuck!” I hiss as her warm hand grasps the base of my cock, already hardening.
“The great heir of Kaladia defeated by a tickle.” She rests her chin on my chest, laughing softly against my skin.
“Anything you do with those hands could destroy me,” I reply.
In response, her hand tightens and starts to glide up and down my length, slowly. “Any other weaknesses I need to discover?”
“You’re not playing fair. I would tell you anything right now.” And I would. I’d tell her that I’m scared of bugs, that the taste of carrots makes me heave, and that I secretly spend hours lost within the pages of romance books from the library. Alaya, the most dangerous weakness of them all. “And you, what makes you weak?”
