Still not enough. She can ache a bit more. I have months to make up for, after all.
Tears dampen her cheeks, body quivering with pleasure.
“Zev, please. No more.” My wife begs so sweetly. “I can’t take any more.”
“You can,” I growl against her softness.
And she does. Again and again.
Another structure-rattling scream—our neighbors must despise us—and I finally have mercy on her. The mattress is damp with sweat and spend, her body still shaking. I trail kisses up her sternum, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss she can barely return.
I tuck her against my chest, chin resting on the crown of her head. A soft, contented sigh escapes her, and she nuzzles deeper into me.
“I love you,” she mumbles. “You’ve thoroughly ruined me.”
A low laugh rumbles in my chest as I trace long lines against her back and hips.
Her body suddenly tenses against mine, energy signature thrumming with a sudden panic.
“Zev,” she whispers into my chest. “You’ll—you’ll stay, right?”
Oh, my sweet Mayah.
“Zev?” she repeats.
I don’t respond—just rise from the bed and search through my satchel.
“Zev?” she repeats, her voice cracking as she sits up to watch me.
My fingers close around her betrothal ring.
I return to bed and gather her in my arms, and she sags against my chest, arms wrapping securely around me.
“Yeah,” I whisper. I grasp her hand and slide the betrothal ring onto her finger. My throat feels tight at the glimmer of the teardrop diamond—howrightit looks on her hand. Where it belongs. I kiss her palm and press it to my cheek. “Yeah, baby. I’ll stay.”
Epilogue
ONE WEEK LATER
Thecarriagerollstoa stop.
We’re home. The Arbinji palacefeelslike home this time—though, I suspect we could’ve arrived at any unfamiliar, distant corner of the realm, and it would’ve felt the same with Mayah at my side.
The small door swings open, and I dismount, extending a hand to help my wife down. Her lips curve into a soft smile when I don’t relinquish my grasp when she stands beside me.
Six carriages are lined up beside us in the bustling courtyard—it appears the entire palace has assembled on the front steps and cobblestone path, servants and guards and advisers spilling over onto the green lawn.
Mother dismounts from the carriage beside us. She was meant to ride in our carriage, but this morning she’d taken one look at us—swollen lips, sleep-smudged eyes, and lingering touches—and promptly announced that she’d ride with Rycken and Lyzza.
Good thing, too, because Mayah spent the entire trek in my lap, my hands roving beneath her tunic.
Mother approaches us, eyeing us with a knowing smile, though I don’t miss the quiver in her hands and the rapid pulsing of her energy signature.
“Ready?” I ask. Both women nod. We walk down the cobblestone path, side by side. Neither of them looks at the statue of my father, still towering in the center.
We stop at the beginning of the path leading to the front steps. Mayah is tense beside me, Mother stiff on my other side.
A hush descends over the crowd, every whispered word evaporating.
