One Month Later
My wife deserves better than me.
Sunlight filters through the window, limning the sheets in gold. Mayah sleeps beside me, lips turned down at the corners. Her face is pale, purple shadows beneath her closed lids.
There was a thunderstorm last night. Lightning cracked through the sky the entire night, thunder rattling the windows like it demanded entrance.
And my sweet Mayah, she’d done so well. Her energy signature pulsed wildly with fear, yet she still put on a brave face. But when I drew her to my chest, the dam broke. She’d sobbed in my arms, great, heaving shudders wracking her body, and I knew it wasn’t just the storm.
It was her father and her mother and her people who still haven’t responded to her letters. It was me. It was everything that burdened her shoulders for so long.
She’d eventually fallen into a fitful sleep, but I’d remained awake, guilt gnawing at my heart. This past month with her has been nothing short of paradise, but one thing has torn at my conscience.
One wretched secret still left between us.
Her eyes slowly flutter open, red-rimmed and hazy with sleep.
“Hi,” I whisper, caressing her cheek with the backs of my fingers. “How are you feeling?”
“Mmm.” She stretches her arms over her head. “Tired. But all right.” Her lips curve into a soft smile, but it dims as she studies my face. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow down the guilt clawing at my throat. “I have to tell you something. And you’ll hate me for it.”
“Bold of you to assume I don’t already hate you.” She grins at me, bright and open, but I can’t bring myself to return her smile. “Zev.” She sits up and clasps my hands. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”
I rake a hand through my hair, forcing myself to say the words.
“The night before the attack on the Rebellion camp. The storm. I—I summoned it. I’m so fucking sorry, Mayah.
I was planning to leave the next morning, and I just …
I selfishly wanted an excuse to hold you one last time.
” A deep, shaky inhale. “I’m no better than Tormik. ”
Mayah is quiet for so long, I’m a breath away from getting on my knees and begging for forgiveness. She has mercy on me, though, and squeezes my hand.
“You summoned the storm because you wanted to hold me one last time.” She arches her brow in question, and I nod quickly.
“You still loved me, even then.” I nod again.
“Even after I had actively planned to kill your people. Steal your kingdom. After you found me in the tunnels with Daak.” At her words, my jaw clenches so tightly, I’m certain I cracked a molar, but I nod again.
Mayah tilts her head and regards me, her eyes soft. “If you can forgive all that I’ve done, my love, then I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”
Relief rushes through my chest, and I raise her hand to my lips, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles.
Before I can utter a word in gratitude, she rises up onto her knees and clasps my jaw in a punishing grip.
Nose to nose, her eyes churn like the unforgiving tides.
“But don’t you ever compare my husband to that monster again.
Do. You. Understand?” she murmurs against my lips, her voice a silken threat, nails digging into my skin.
A sudden, heavy wave of desire crackles through me. My blood rushes south. I nod again, a lazy grin unfurling across my lips.
“Good,” she says primly, settling back against the pillows, thighs apart and knees bent. Her lips curve into a wicked grin. “Then I forgive you. But I think you can grovel better than that.”