He shifted, his arm tightening around her waist.
She lay folded against him, breath slow and even, lashes brushing the hollow beneath his collarbone. One hand rested soft over his heart; the other was tangled with his fingers where they lay across her belly. The sheet had slipped low along herback, baring the curve of her thigh. Her hair spilled everywhere—across his chest, his arm, the pillow—golden waves that caught the morning light.
He couldn’t stop looking at her.
His wife.
He breathed her in slowly, that radiance of warmth, and let it steady him. If the cold still whispered beyond these gates, it didn’t matter. She was here. Real. Sleeping in his arms, surrendered to him.
His gaze caught the wedding gown still pooled on the floor. With a kiss to her brow, he eased away, tugged the blanket up over her shoulder, and slipped from the bed. He crouched to lift the gown, smirking at the memory of how it had fallen. Stars, he had no idea how to hold something so delicate—so he carried it in both arms like a soldier carrying treasure, and laid it neatly at the foot of the bed.
The water pitcher waited by the table. He poured himself a drink, all the while keeping an eye on Amerei. She didn’t stir.
He shook his head, muttering under his breath with a crooked grin.
“How in all the realms did I get this lucky…”
He set the glass back on the table and turned toward the bath. Her crown rested on the basin, the cord of their binding coiled beside it. He picked it up, threading the braid through his fingers before setting it aside. His hand brushed the tiara, the cruel bite of its pins pricking his skin.Dask, savage thing.
He rinsed his face, raked his fingers through his hair, and stepped back into the chamber a few minutes later. Pausing in the doorway, he touched the place on his neck where her mouth had branded him last night. It made him grin like fool.
Leather trousers waited in a careless heap on the chest of drawers. He dragged them on, his bare feet whispering againststone. When he glanced back, Amerei stirred at last, lashes fluttering as her eyes searched for him.
He slung a linen tunic over his shoulder, poured water from the pitcher, and sat at the bed’s edge. Leaning down, he kissed her slow—hungry enough to steal her breath, soft enough to make her sigh.
“Still in my bed,” he murmured against her mouth. “Thought I’d wake and find it all a dream.”
Her hand curled around his bicep, warm as her whisper.
“You’re here…”
“I am.”
His smile roughened as he offered the cup.
“Water. And this tunic—if you’d like.”
She grinned, taking both.
“Bless you.”
The sheets fell from her waist as she drank, then she handed the cup back, tugged the tunic over her head, and let it skim her thighs.
Viktor’s gaze darkened. That tunic dared to cover her. He dragged a hand through his hair, a wolfish grin tugging at his mouth.
She could cloak herself in steel and I’d still see every inch that belongs to me.
She turned down the blankets. He rose with her, catching her hands to help her out of bed.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked, arms draping around his shoulders.
“Since sunrise.”
His palm settled at the small of her back, though his gaze slid to the window.
“Do you think we ride for Vykenra today?”
“Father never told me,” she sighed.
