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I began to move, drawing my hips back and driving in with a slow rhythm. Every thrust pushed her deeper into the furs, the friction pulling ragged sounds from both of us. I slid one hand beneath her lower back to tilt her up. The base of my shaft ground against her swollen center. Her lips parted as the deep roll of my hips built the tension all over again.

When her breathing grew shallow and frantic, her hands slid from my shoulders to clutch desperately at my upper arms. I shifted my position. I hooked one of her knees higher over my hip, opening her wider. I pulled nearly all the way out before driving back in with a single, heavy thrust.

Thalia cried out, her head tipping back into the pillows. I let go of my restraint. I set a hard, driving pace, pinning her to the mattress with every snap of my hips. The quiet room filled with the wet slap of skin and our overlapping breaths.

“Harder, Eryx,” she panted, her nails biting into my muscles as she met every deep thrust of my hips. “Give me all of it. Don’t hold back!”

Her demand snapped the last of my restraint. I caged her completely beneath my body and buried my face in the curve of her neck, right over her mate mark.

Through the bond, I felt her pleasure building to a blinding peak. She bit down on my shoulder with a muffled scream as she came a second time. Her core milked my length so hard my vision blurred at the edges.

A groan ripped from my chest. I drove deep one last time and followed her over the edge, spilling inside her in thick pulses.

For a long moment, we lay perfectly still. I stayed above her, my forehead resting against her damp shoulder. Her arms were wrapped loosely around my neck. Her fingers tangled among my serpents as the coils slowly settled against the pillows.

When my breathing finally steadied, I shifted my weight off her and rolled onto my side, drawing her with me. I reached down to the foot of the bed and dragged the furs up over our bare shoulders, shutting out the cold from the stone walls of Petrion.

Thalia lay facing me, one hand resting flat against my chest. The oil in the lamp was burning low, casting a warm, amber glow across the side of her face. I reached up and tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear.

She caught my wrist and pressed a soft kiss to my palm. “You’re staring at me again, Eryx. You haven’t stopped since we walked through the gates.”

“I have no intention of stopping anytime soon.” I moved closer on the pillow, sliding my other arm securely around her waist. “You’re my wife. I can look at you as much as I please.”

A laugh escaped her, soft and genuine in the dim room. She nestled against me, tucking her knees into my thighs.

“I’m glad we’re home,” she murmured. “Tomorrow will be hard enough when the work starts again. Tonight, I just wanted to remember that we’re still here.”

I tightened my hold around her back, kissing the crown of her head. I liked that I could make her laugh after everything the last four days had taken from her. I liked that she didn’t feel the need to hide her sorrow from me, or pretend that grieving her father meant she couldn’t reach for her husband in the dark.

The raw ache of her loss was still present, quiet and deep, pulsing through our bond. But it was no longer tearing her apart. Around it, her life magic hummed with a familiar warmth, woven inextricably with mine.

We were together, the silent certainty of our bond answering for everything else. For tonight, that was enough.

Epilogue

Thalia

A few months later

The woman had carefully folded the faded green dress before I knelt beside her traveling bag.

“Put it underneath the heavy cloak,” I suggested, pressing the stiff wool down. “There’s room if we move your shoes.”

She surrendered the dress reluctantly. It was neatly mended beneath one arm, the fabric worn thin from washing. Everything she owned lay on the bed between us. A bone comb, a spare pair of shoes, and a small wooden box she hadn’t opened.

A season had passed since the attack on Melia. I remembered standing in this room on my first night, shivering and almost bare, waiting for a groom that never came. This woman had spent four nights under our roof, but she still kept her belongings close to the bed, ready to grab them in a hurry.

“Is there something you’d rather leave out?” I asked.

She rubbed her palms against her skirt. “I was wondering whether I should wear it. The green one’s better than this brown wool.”

Her gaze dropped to her frayed cuffs. I set the canvas bag down and sat beside her on the mattress.

“The wool is more comfortable for the road, isn’t it?” I asked. “You don’t have to arrive in Asphodelia dressed for a bride market. There’ll be time to settle into the city before you decide what you want to do.”

“I know. Your husband explained.” She picked at a loose thread near her knee. “It’s foolish, isn’t it? I’ve barely agreed to go, and I’m already wondering whether anyone will look at me.”

“It isn’t foolish to want a husband.”