Silence fell between them as Juliana tried to collect herself after everything he told her. Cassian bowed his head for a moment, and she respected his need for solitude, even in her presence.
His story revealed that Cassian had been carrying more than an injured leg for almost a decade. She could not fathom the fear, hatred, and disappointment he had been wallowing in, even as he pretended to be a man with no worries, wondering only what drink or woman would be next for him to partake.
Cassian finally lifted his head to stare at the wall, his expression unreadable. Even as she stood, his hand was still in hers. His fingers were not limp. Instead, they clung to hers as if for dear life, even in his stoic silence.
“You do not hate me,” he echoed her sentiment, his voice deep and rumbling with contained emotion.
“I do not,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
“Even now that you finally understand how deeply I despise your brother, and that hatred is what drove me to marry you, just to trap you here? That you have become my way of proving to him that if my sister could be his conquest, then you can be mine aswell, and mine alone?”
Juliana swallowed the painful lump in her throat. She knew he was choosing those words to drive her away.
“Yes, all those things were terrible. But we cannot continue down the path of destruction. I am here with you. We are here now. I prefer this painful truth to the lies of my old life.”
The cloud in his eyes seemed to lift. He turned to her with a focus that made her shiver. She had been under that gaze before, and each time was just as intense and potent. His eyes traveled from her wide eyes to her parted lips, making her pulse beat wildly. There was no hate in those eyes, either. She felt seen, not as the enemy’s sister but as Cassian’s wife.
She gasped softly as he released her hand, all but ready to accept the rejection. Yet his hand rose, and with his knuckles, he tenderly brushed her cheek. She leaned into the touch, her eyes closed, her breath held.
“Juliana.”
Nobody had called her name like that before. It sounded like a tale in itself. It could be a plea or a question, or even surrender, all rolled into three syllables on his tongue.
She sighed in response, surrendering more openly to his touch. His rough palm now cradled her cheek with reverence, his thumb rubbing her lower lip and gently parting her mouth.
In one fluid motion, Cassian rose to his feet. He drew her close so they stood face-to-face. The difference in their heights was more pronounced this way, especially as he stood as tall as he could despite his pain. She felt small but safe, embraced by the scent of sandalwood and rain.
“Look at me, Juliana,” he murmured.
She had no choice but to look, but she had to choke back a cry. He lowered his head toward her slowly, giving her the chance to pull away. He might be one of the most confident men she knew, but he was uncertain or respectful at the moment, or both. She did not pull away. She wanted this.
“Cassian, I…”
Their lips finally met. It was a kiss that undid them both, weeks of restraint finally giving way. Her hunger melded with his, and she could feel how attuned their feelings were. She was frightened by how much she was losing control, but she would not do anything about it. She would roll with the tide as his mouth claimed hers with predatory heat. Her hands wanted more of him, coming up to settle on the solid wall of his chest. His heart hammered frantically against her palms, in rhythm with her own.
Cassian broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.
“I want to see you, Juliana,” he rasped. “Stripped of everything. No more secrets.”
Juliana knew he was not only referring to her dress, even though his fingers fumbled at her buttons and lace. Frantic impatience marred his usual deftness. He turned her around, and she twirled with pliant grace for him. She could feel each movement of his fingers as he rapidly unlaced the fastenings. She had never felt so constrained before, until she realized that each unraveling was freedom.
When the cool air caressed her skin, she tried not to shiver. The heat of his gaze warmed her enough to endure the momentwithout his touch. Her dress fell in layers, pooling at her feet in a swirl of color and fabric. She stood before him in her chemise, still covered but barely so.
They faced each other. For a moment, she felt inexplicably shy. This was a man who had touched her until she combusted, the same one who had spilled his seed in her mouth. Yet, in many ways, they were still discovering each other. That fact made her boldness retreat.
Cassian’s gaze simmered, burning a path over her skin and into her soul. He seemed to enjoy every curve and patch of her skin, whether revealed or hidden.
“You are so beautiful, Juliana,” he whispered, genuine reverence swelling from within him.
It did not take him long to strip and discard his own clothes. This time, there was no care, only desperation. Juliana watched her wildest dreams come true in him. Her husband was all hard muscle, his body a testament to his sacrifices and his dabbling in danger. His shoulders were honed by the weight he carried. She admired every inch of him, the defined pecs and flat stomach, but most of all the scar that twisted from his hip down his leg.
Cassian realized where her gaze had fallen. His eyes flashed, and his jaw clenched. Instead of looking away from his anger and shame, she met his gaze head-on and stepped forward.
No more secrets.
Her hand reached for his thigh. He flinched at her touch, but relaxed when she kept her palm gently pressed against his scarred skin. She knelt once more before him, tracing the scars with her lips.
“Juliana, you do not—” he protested, even as his fingers threaded into her hair. But she was stubborn and was willing to continue the veneration.
