I suspected as much. The man that looked atmyMayah like she was his. My blood burns as envy crackles through me, vicious and wrathful. I know she didn’t actually sleep with him—my neck didn’t prickle when she told me she wasn’t worried about passing the purity test, or when she tempted me with the fact that she was a virgin that night I shared my power with her.
But regardless of what they did physically—bitter bile churns in my gut at the possibilities—shecaredfor him. Perhaps still cares for him. Maybe—maybe even loved him.
“Does that upset you?” she whispers.
I clench my jaw, trying to steady my emotions. “I don’t care about what you did before,” I manage.
But that’s a lie. A staggering, monumental lie.
I sigh, dragging my hand down my face. “No, that’s not true. Idocare. I’m burning with jealousy, actually. But I don’t hold it against you. You weren’t my wife then.”
Mayah is silent for a beat, a myriad of emotions swirling in her blue gaze. “You’ve had lovers.” Her voice is flat.
“Yes,” I reply quietly. I ease my grip around her—I hadn’t realized how tight it’d grown beneath the weight of my jealousy. “But the last one was months before I met you.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“No. I find most people … disappointing.” Because they lie within seconds of opening their mouths. “I become disenchanted quickly.”
But not with you, my magnificent Mayah.
A silence drapes over us. Not quite comfortable, but not unpleasant either.
“Your father,” I say slowly, weighing my words carefully. “Did he comfort you during storms?”
She stiffens in my arms. “No. Not once. He knew I was afraid—I’d burst into his chambers often enough as a child, tears streaming down my face. Searching for a mother that wasn’t there. Desperate for a comfort that never came. He’d always look disappointed. Disgusted, even. A servant would walk me back to my chambers. Some were kind enough to stay until the storm passed.”
Skies, Tormik and Varad are cut from the same cloth. At least I had Mother through my adolescence. Mayah has been alone.
And her fear of thunderstorms—it runs far deeper than I thought.
There’s a gaping pit in my stomach, and I have to force my fingers to steady as I trace the shell of her ear. “It must have gutted you to marry me,” I finally whisper. “The embodiment of your greatest fear.”
“No,” she says immediately, small hand cradling my cheek. “I may fear storms, Zev, but I don’t fearyou. Not at all.”
My neck doesn’t prickle.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Agentlehandcaressingtheline of my throat, nails raking absently through the hair on my chest.
Soft, sweet kisses brushed against my pulse, my collarbones. Over my heart.
Lower.
Fingers tangle in silky hair, my breath escaping in heaving pants.
A low, melodious laugh. My goddess. Her teeth nip at my wrist, and I loosen my grip so she can continue her torment.
“What do you want, baby?” she asks huskily, mischievous blue eyes staring up at me. Her graceful fingers dip beneath the waistband of my sleep trousers.
“You.” A guttural rasp. “All of you.”
She tsks, a wicked grin curling her lips, and I grow impossibly harder. “I’m already yours. Try again.”
“Your mouth,” I growl, hands clenched tight against the need to haul her up and lay her out beneath me.
Her smirk widens.
