Iwake up alone.
Jolting upright, I dislodge the pillow that was nestled to my chest, a poor substitute for Antony’s body.
Disappointment fills me. Both that I fell so deeply asleep and that he chose to leave me.
The silver dress has reshaped itself around my body, forming a loose, flowing nightgown that drags against the sheets as I slip to the edge of the bed, trying to gather my thoughts and intentions and to make sense of the mess of my emotions.
My body aches.
Muscles. Breasts. Core.
But the sting of the cut across my cheek has vanished.
The shackles hang against the wall on the side I’m facing, and the ruby circlet lies in a heap on the floor.
I have no idea how long I slept or what time of day or night it is. There are no windows, no indicative rays of sunlight or starlight.
Clearly long enough for Antony to leave?—
My breath catches when the back wall on the other side of the bed comes into view.
I can’t stop my smile or the warmth flooding my chest.
There Antony stands, his back to the wall, facing the door, fully dressed in armor, his unmoving state telling me that, like at the cabin, he may be asleep where he stands. A guard watching over me, breathing so quietly and deeply that I didn’t sense his presence until I glanced backward.
The table near him is laden with food, much of it consisting of fresh fruit and fluffy-looking pastries, so he must have left the catacombs and returned at some point. All while I slept.
Carefully and quietly, I allow my bare feet to find the floor, trying not to wake him.
Gravity brings a rush of wetness down my inner thighs that shocks me back to a reality I’m not ready to acknowledge.
Oh. I was so reckless.
Sex is a natural part of life in coastal villages, but pregnancy is taken very seriously. Bringing into the world another mouth to feed isn’t done lightly. For that reason, all males are taught to pull out before they finish.
All my adult life before now, I’ve guarded my body and never allowed myself to form attachments. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had sex, and never was it so intense. Never so overwhelming. And never did I risk pregnancy.
I take a breath, my fingertips pressing to my bruised lips, a moment of remembrance, but not of regret.
I’m certain I would take the same risks again.
“If you’re worried about a child,” Antony’s rumbling voice sounds. “Don’t be.”
I lower my hand, slipping around the bed and reaching his side. I should take care of the liquid between my legs, but I need this moment with him.
Reaching up to his helmet, I tug on it.
I’m not certain, even after last night, that he’ll remove it so easily, but he bends his knees and tips his head, allowing me to slide it off his head.
After placing the helmet lightly on the little table at the side of the bed, I reach up and press a kiss to his lips. “Good morning.” My brow puckers. “Is it morning?”
One corner of his mouth hitches up. Even with his helmet off, he appears uncharacteristically calm. “Very much so. It’s past breakfast.”
I guess I needed to sleep. I suck on my lower lip, which is sore, but I don’t care.
I kiss him again. A little deeper, accepting the tingle of contact against my already tender lips before I murmur, “You sounded very certain about children.”
His eyes narrow at me, but it’s a lazy motion. “Confirming anything for you would be a huge risk for me, Thyra. Obviously, a king who can’t produce an heir would be a liability.”
