She took his hand and led him to the rumpled bed and then sat on the side, waiting while he pulled off his boots and dirty coat as well as his cotton shirt. But he settled for merely undoing the top button of his breeches. This moment was for holding her. Proving to her that she could trust him.
He crawled onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, her back against his chest, her knees spooned inside his, as they had that first day against the tree. She curled trustingly against him and closed her eyes as his beast rumbled softly, accepting the enormity of the gift that she was giving him.
With an aching slide, he felt his claws retract, and the sudden loss of pain spread like warmth through his body.
Lucy must have been exhausted, because she slipped almost instantly into a deep sleep as Mathos lay awake, stunned by her forgiveness, every sense filled with her.
He had no idea how they were going to make their relationship work. He was a mercenary—not even that anymore—and she was the queen. But he had promised that he would never leave again, and no matter what, he would never leave again.
You’re not a mercenary, you ass.You’re a baron—there’s a fucking royal writ somewhere.
The idea filtered through him. For so many years he had rejected his childhood, to the point that it had never occurred to him to take back his heritage. But now it felt right. More than right. It gave him political standing and authority, a valid reason to stay at court and contribute. He would be able to support Lucy with more than just his protection.
He wanted to wake her to tell her, but she was fast asleep.
Instead, he closed his eyes and drifted, letting himself relax for the first time in days.
He woke before dawn, his stomach complaining loudly. No doubt Lucy was almost as hungry. He kissed her gently on the cheek and over her eyes until she stirred.
“Matt?” Her voice was thick with sleep.
“I’m going to get us some food.”
“’kay.” She rolled her face down into the pillow.
“I didn’t want you to wake up and wonder where I was.”
“’nks,” she muttered from the depths of the pillow.
He kissed her again and then climbed out of the bed to pull his shirt and boots on. The fire was almost out, and he had to shuffle around the shadowy room, trying to find everything in the dim light without disturbing her.
Mathos pulled the door open as quietly as he could and slipped through it, straight into Jos and Garet, both wide awake and glaring, Jos’s cheek still purple with the results of their shipboard scuffle.
He clicked the door gently closed behind him. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a joke and hope they laughed. But he owed them more than that.
“I’m sorry for the things I did. And I’m sorry that I walked away from the Hawks.”
Both men crossed their arms, their eyes narrowed. Neither of them replied. He expected that from Garet, the most taciturn and considered of all of them. But not from Jos, whose childhood with a collection of exuberant and slightly wild younger sisters had molded him into the Hawks’ permanent big brother. Slow to anger, quick to defend.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He let his arms drop to his sides. “You heard everything?”
“The things you said to Queen Lucilla. About all the other women. About how you lied to her and then left her. Yes, we did. And you’re fucking lucky that she forgave you, because I don’t think I would have,” Jos snarled, his wings drawn back, battle-ready.
“I am fucking lucky,” he agreed. “I don’t deserve her, but I have promised to never leave again, and I meant it. I love her.”
He’d thought it would be hard to say, but it wasn’t. Now that it came to it, it was the easiest thing in the world.
The two men, his brothers, stared at him in silence. A long, slow judgment. And then Jos clapped him on his back, and Garet dipped his chin. Thank the gods.
“I’m going to the kitchens to get some food… but I’m guessing you don’t need anything, since you’re on duty and all?” Mathos grinned.
Yes, Lucilla would like pastries, with berries, she loves berries. And cream… lots of cream.
His grin widened. Damn, that was a good idea.
“Asshole,” Jos muttered, and Mathos threw a mocking salute as he walked down the thick carpet of the corridor.
He was already on the stairs when his beast went insane, thrashing and howling in an inconsolable frenzy. He didn’t hesitate; he spun back and started to run, already shouting, “Get in there! Now! Now!”
