Desperation has me clawing at his clothes in a quest to bare his skin, map his body, touch him everywhere.
“Not here,” he says. “Come.”
And I follow him, no questions asked, no doubts. I’ve come to trust him with my life, I realize, with my safety. My happiness.
It will kill me when he goes.
It will destroy me.
We cross the yard and stumble into the stables. Horses snort in their stalls. The air smells of hay, manure and animal. After the first assault on my senses, I find it oddly calming, and I know that after today, I’ll always associate the smell with Valen and this breathless, thrilling moment.
The thought fades, a bittersweet tang to it, when he drags me into an empty stall and closes the door behind us, then presses me to the wall.
“Fuck, I need to put my hands, my mouth on you.”
“Touch me,” I whisper. “Touch me everywhere. Show me.”
“Fuck, yeah. I’ll show you what it can be like, what you should expect as the minimum standard.” He grins wolfishly down at me. “The golden standard to hold other men to.”
“Other men?”
“Fictional men,” he clarifies. “Hypothetical men.” He growls. “Deadmen if they ever touch you.”
“Doesn’t killing any other man who touches me defeat the purpose of a lesson?”
“This isn’t a lesson,” he says softly, “it’s a ritual where I worship you, as should any person who is deemed worthy of your presence.”
“Valen…” It’s funny that he’s so serious about this when I can barely function with his hard, tall body pressed to mine. “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” I whisper, “haven’t you?”
“Baby, it’s all I’ve been able to think about since I met you,” he breathes. “I’ve imagined it over and over, living off the images in my mind like a starving man.”
The things he says… Golden-tongued he’s not, but his rough, heartfelt outbursts sound like confessions and hit me like blows. He doesn’t try to bend me to his will but convince me. He doesn’t only talk but act.
He offers himself to me time and again, and all I have to do is decide. Accept him.
“Rosie,” he whispers, and my eyes fill up. I can imagine doing this with him, being with him every day and night of my life, and I want it. I crave it.
Hope is a dangerous thing to have.
But I don’t care. Right now, everything is as it should be. Me, him, the wide world waiting with bated breath outside.
Waiting to see if I will accept his offer and hold onto hope.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
VALERIAN
I can’t believe I have her back in my arms. I feel as if I’ve been torn away from her already, as if I’ve been watching her from across an ocean for years, not days.
This is where she belongs. Against me. Gazing up at me, her eyes bright, her lips parted, her dark hair messy, and her dress hanging loosely over her body, the laces undone. Her chest heaves, and I can’t look away from the mounds of her breasts.
The scent of her cream is making my mouth water.
She looks debauched. Excited. Joyful. Aroused.
“What are you going to do?” she whispers, and I almost blurt out loud that I’m going to grab her and leave, only that sounds too much like the abduction she suffered at the hands of my people as a child.
Get your mind back on track,I scold myself,and in the moment. The moment you’ve dreamed of for so long. Don’t waste it by thinking of tomorrow.
