Her eyes prickled, and she wiped a shaking hand over her face as she started to pull back, suddenly exhausted by it all and wondering if it might be better if he left. But he didn’t.
Instead, he picked her up. He didn’t ask anything or say anything, he simply spun her into his lap, nestling her against his bare chest.
His arms came around her, holding her safe, and then his wings enfolded them both, warm and safe and accepting.
He pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. And somehow, that feeling of being protected, his quiet belief in her, not in any way doubting her but simply cherishing her and sheltering her—as he always had—opened the gate she had tried so hard to keep closed, and she started to sob helplessly, tears running down her face as she wept.
She wept for everything she’d felt and how much she’d lost. How desperately afraid she’d been and how terrifying it was to remember. How difficult it was to ignore the awful things Ballanor and Grendel had said and done.
She wept for the relief of knowing she was safe, the hope that Val still wanted her, and that he was with her.
He didn’t try and move her, but held her in his strong arms, one hand stroking her hair until she hiccoughed herself into a drained silence.
Only then, when she was quiet and calm, did he speak; his voice a deep and soothing rumble in her ear. “Why didn’t you get the marriage annulled?”
She pulled back slightly so that she could look at him. “If I annulled the marriage, the treaty would have been broken, and I would have been personally responsible for a war that would kill and hurt and maim hundreds, even thousands, of good, innocent people. My people, but also your people.” She shrugged sadly. “I thought I could endure it, especially when he lost interest and stayed away for longer and longer. And you were there. With you beside me, even at a distance, I thought I could survive nearly anything.”
“Until Ravenstone,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” she agreed softly. “Until Ravenstone.”
“Gods, Alanna. I would have taken you away from there. We could have run….” His voice was tortured, the flecks in his eyes a hard iron-gray, his heart beating a heavy rhythm against her cheek.
She shifted out of his lap, turning until she could kneel between his legs and take his face between her hands, forcing him to look down at her and see the truth. “I couldn’t run, Val. I knew that Ballanor was insane. I knew that he would hunt us down like animals. You, me, and everyone you loved. No one would have been safe, not your friends, not your sister, not your papa. And I couldn’t bear to cost you one more thing. I knew I had to go back or Verturia would have been blamed without question. I had to try. And, honestly, I thought Geraint was still alive. That he would call in the justices.”
“But you tried to send me away…. You stopped me….” His voice was a rough whisper.
She lowered her forehead until it was touching his, hoping that he would hear the depth of her sincerity. “I wanted you to be free. Free and far away from Ballanor’s cruelty. If he knew how we felt, he would have punished you in unimaginably brutal ways.”
Val shook his head. “He did that anyway.”
Alanna felt a tear escape and trickle slowly down her cheek. “And you will never know how desperately sorry I am. If I could have taken any of that from you, I would have.”
“Why?” he asked, so quietly she almost missed it.
Bard. He still didn’t know.
She let out a shaky breath. “Because I love you.”
His hands circled around her back, gripping her hard, his eyes focused on her with an intensity that took her breath away. “Say that again.”
“I love you, Val.”
It was easier the second time. And as the silver flecks danced, sparkling in his eyes, she said it one more time, to be absolutely clear. “I love you.”
They stayed like that for a second, a long, heated second, and then he spun her onto her back and lowered himself over her, one heavy thigh between her legs, his mouth almost on hers, holding himself above her so that she could feel his weight running along the length of her body, but not fully rested on her, as he whispered, “I love you too.”
She felt another tear escape and trickle slowly down her temple. He still loved her. He wasn’t lost.
He pressed kisses onto her eyelids and over her face, rubbing his nose gently against hers, and then, finally, took her mouth.
At first, his kisses were soft and sweet. Gentle, almost.
But slowly they started to deepen once more. His body was so hot and powerful above hers that she knew she should feel caged. But she only felt safe. Safe and adored. And increasingly sensitive. A growing sensual awareness swelling through her with every sweep of his mouth. How many times had she dreamed of touching him? Dreamed of feeling his body over hers.
She slid her fingers up into his hair and pulled him down to her, reveling in him. In the way he nibbled her lower lip and then ran hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, whispering against her skin, repeating how precious she was, how beautiful, how much he loved her.
Her body felt feverish and achy, throbbing in a way she had never experienced as he pushed open the sides of her bodice and lowered his mouth to her breast, drawing her nipple up with ravishing pulls that somehow connected directly to her belly. And lower.
