The words are so close to those I spoke in the sanctuary I almost laugh.
“Me either,” I say defiantly. “That’s why I was going to do anything to get you back. And if the shoe was on the other foot, you can’t lie and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”
He doesn’t reply, but we both know I’m right.
“You were gone—you weren’there.” My voice catches at the memory, and I wipe at my eyes, pushing away the sting of tears. “You said you’d always find me, but you didn’t—youcouldn’t. So you can’t blame me for taking matters into my own hands.”
“I don’t blame you, my love,” he says, his voice softening. He leaves the window and comes to me again, taking me in his arms. “I’m just…”
He can’t finish his sentence out loud, but I feel the rest of it through the mooring. He’s afraid—locked into the same fear I experienced when I had to consider a world without him. He’s already had to face that idea once, when I was taken by the Temple; I suppose it makes sense this would bring it up for him again.
“They won’t separate us again,” I say. “We won’t let them.”
He strokes my cheek, considering my words. Finally, he speaks. “Agreed. They’ll have to destroy the whole world with us in it first.”
“Even then, there’s no getting rid of me,” I say. “Moorings still count in the celestial realm, you know.”
He laughs. “Damn, I forgot about that when I was binding my soul to yours. I wonder if Phaia knows a take-back spell.”
I swat him playfully, grateful beyond measure for his teasing. It’s exactly what I need to escape the heaviness of all we’ve been through.
“So that’s settled then,” I say. “And now we can focus on all the making up you have to do for leaving me like that.”
He tilts his head to one side. “That, and I definitely need to say thank you for you rescuing me.”
He kisses me again, his hands skimming down my shoulders and dropping to my waist. I feel a tugging sensation and look down to see him pinching at the thick material of my tunic, frowning.
“When was the last time you changed, or bathed, or ate, for that matter?”
I grimace. I have vague memories of people handing me water and food and fresh clothes while we traveled, but looking after myself wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities. Leon makes a disapproving grunt at my silence.
“If we’re going to be cosmically bound, I expect you to take better care of yourself. Come.”
He leads me through to his washroom. It’s enormous, with a huge stone bathtub in the center of the room. He touches a seashell set into the rim and the tub automatically starts to fill with steaming, citrus-scented water. I admire the clever aquari magic as bubbles foam across the surface. I inhale, already imagining how delightful the water will feel on my battered, weary body.
I start to pull off my clothes, then stop when I see Leon watching me with bright, interested eyes.
“Don’t just stand there,” I say, tugging at his tunic and pulling open the top of his shirt. “I’m sure you could do with a wash too. Besides, it’s ridiculous to make me sit in that huge thing all on my own. I might get lost.”
He smiles, obediently removing his tunic. We take turns undressing each other, slowly easing the clothes off our bodies and letting them slide to the floor. Then Leon scoops me up and steps into the tub, lowering us both into the perfectly heatedwater. I groan at the wonderful sensation, leaning back so that I’m submerged up to my neck.
Leon slides up against the far end of the bathtub, resting his back against the edge.
“If I’d known those were the kind of noises you make while bathing, I would’ve invited you in here a long time ago,” he says, grinning.
We soak for a few minutes, my feet occasionally brushing against his thigh, until I require more contact. After being apart, I need to be closer, touching Leon,feelinghim in every way I can.
I shift, kneeling in front of him, laying a palm across his chest to remind myself of the solid reality—he’s here. Eventually, I let my fingers wander, tracing the familiar lines of his muscles. I sense the tickle of pleasure my touch elicits across the bond, a feeling that warms into desire as my hand drifts lower across his abdominals.
“Come here.” He reaches out, his hands sliding across my breasts, the soap bubbles making my nipples tingle as he encircles one, drawing me to him with a gentle but firm grip. He takes my mouth with his, claiming my lips with slow, fierce pressure.
I nestle in closer to him, hooking my legs over his hips until I feel the thick length of him pressing between my legs. He’s hard as stone, and a rumble of interest vibrates in his throat as my soft flesh yields against him.
He breaks the kiss, running his thumb across the damp crook of my collarbone as his eyes flicker across my face.
“You’re not too tired?” he asks. I suspect he knows I barely rested on our journey here and haven’t slept soundly since the battle. There are probably huge dark circles under my eyes giving me away.
“No,” I say truthfully, and run my hands over his shoulders, then down across his chest. My fingers massage every knot I find. His body is taut and tense after its ordeal, and I don’t miss the way his eyes close with pleasure when I tend to those tight spots. He needs this as much as I do.
