Page 22 of Bred By The King

“Then I’ll take you back,” he says immediately. “Tomorrow. Next week. Whenever you want.”

I pull back. “Really?”

“You’re my wife, Layla. My queen. My everything. If you need to see your father, we go. If you need to feel the sun, I’ll charter a ship and sail us there myself.”

I laugh through my tears. “You hate the sun.”

“I hate the sun,” he agrees. “But I love you. So I’ll endure it.”

I kiss him then. Soft and sweet.

“Your father gave me the only thing he couldn’t afford to lose,” he tells me, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m not wasting it. I’m not wasting a single second with you.”

I sniffle, smiling. “You say the most romantic things when I’m crying.”

“I’m a romantic guy.”

I snort. “You’re a Viking brute who fingered me against a wall on our third day.”

“And now I’m your husband who loves you.”

He lifts me, carrying me back to our bed. He lays me down gently and strips my clothes with reverent hands. This time is different. Slower. He kisses every inch of me, my neck, my breasts, the curve of my belly where our baby grows.

When he finally pushes inside me, we move together like we’re breathing. Face to face. Eye to eye.

“You’re my whole world,” he whispers, thrusting deep. “My queen. My mate. The mother of my child. I don’t deserve you, Layla. But I’m keeping you anyway.”

I wrap my legs around him. “You deserve me. And I’m keeping you too.”

We come together, her pussy milking my cock while I flood her. After, he holds me while I drift off, his hand on my stomach, his heart full.

No more war. No more enemies. Just us. And our future.

Nineteen

SOREN

We return to MeliTar when Layla is four months pregnant. Tariq has been begging to see his daughter. And I can’t deny her anything.

The flight is long. Layla sleeps against my shoulder, her hand on her small bump. I spend the entire journey watching her. Counting my blessings.

When we land, the heat hits me like a wall. I immediately start sweating. Layla laughs at me.

“Too warm for you, big guy?”

“I hate the sun.”

“I know.” She takes my hand. “But you came anyway. For me.”

“I’d go anywhere for you. Through fire. Through ice. Through a thousand fucking suns.”

She kisses me, soft and sweet.

Tariq meets us at the palace. He looks older, grayer, but his eyes light up when he sees Layla. He pulls her into a hug that lasts too long.

“My baby girl,” he whispers. “Look at you. Glowing.”

“It’s the pregnancy hormones, Father. And the fact that my husband won’t stop fucking me.”