Ronin’s chestached at Mireille’s anguished question.
He didn’t hesitate, wrapped her in his arms and let her cry against his chest as her icy exterior melted away.
And though some callous part of him had taunted her days ago that there was nothing beneath it, deep down heknewthat this is what her tears would reveal.
A shattered soul left to fend for itself. A vulnerability so deeply rooted that to expose it toanyonewould require tearing out too many vital parts.
The very same things that were underneathhisexterior. He and Mireille were more alike than he’d ever thought possible.
He stroked a hand through her hair, waiting for her sobs to ebb.
Once they did, he sat up against the headboard and pulled her into his lap. “Do you know what I like most about you, Mireille?”
She tipped her chin up to look at him, and her tear-soaked eyes were so unguarded he could barely fucking stand it.
“Your imperfections. Like this one right here.” He kissed the small freckle on her shoulder. “And this one.” He lifted her forearm, running his thumb along the silver scar. She released a shuddering breath, nestling in closer.
“And especially this one.” He tapped a finger against her temple. “Your mind works differently than anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t think it ever stops.” She huffed a small laugh.
“But the best imperfection?” He flattened his palm against her chest. “It’s this. Your broken heart.”
He lowered the strap of her silk camisole, pressing a gentle kiss upon the frantic organ. Then breathed his final confession against her soft, warm skin.
“Let me help you piece it back together.”
His words were kindling. She turned in his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips, and grasped his cheeks. Glistening fire blazed in her silver eyes as he wrapped his arms around her lower back.
And then her mouth was on him, and any worries he had about tomorrow or the day after or the day after faded away into blissful oblivion.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
No one had ever looked at Mireille the way Ronin was looking at her. Had ever said such things to her. Had ever seen her so clearly, despite her efforts at obfuscation with every word, every gesture, every fight these past weeks.
She had no words to offer him. He’d just uttered all the most meaningful ones. So she kissed him again instead, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Her entire body lit up at his responding groan.
He massaged her ass as she ground her hips against the growing hardness beneath his loose sleep pants.
Sweet Amatu, she’d never been so happy that a male slept without a shirt on. She pulled away to marvel at his sculpted, powerful beauty, dragging a finger across the glacial swirls on his chest.
“Will these disappear when they uncage you?” she asked, her lips swollen, her mind loose and hazy from his drugging kisses.
He shook his head. “They’re permanent. Only the magic within the ink itself will be removed.”
She curled her fingers around the back of his neck. “I kinda like them.”
He bent down to slant his mouth over hers again. “Good. I’m hoping you’ll be seeing them often.”
His kiss wasn’t nearly as gentle as hers. Hand fisting her hair, he surged upwards, tilting her head back and taking what he wanted, his body curving over her.
He yanked her hair harder, and she moaned at the delicious pain.
“Take control, Ronin,” she begged. “I’m so sick of clinging to it.”
She felt his smirk against her mouth. “I fucking knew it.”
She rolled her eyes and he smacked her cheek, hard enough to startle but not hurt.
“First rule,” he said, all the playful smarminess fleeing his face. “Do not roll your eyes at your master.”
