Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Tuscany
Lowering the glow from the artificial time-fire, the room slowly becomes dim.
I capture my breath as I climb up into the enormous bed, unable to release even a wisp of air in case it shifts his decision.
I want that hold; the one he wrapped around me all those years ago before my feelings split with cold precision. I couldn’t see the in-between, only the sharp obnoxious edge: he doesn’t desire me.
Was I wrong?
I know that whatever I’m feeling, the warmth and wetness between my thighs aren’t a lie. Aren’t going away. I am physically burning for him. It’s him. It is only him. It has always been him.
Pulling the sheets up, I watch him rise to his feet, over seven-foot of muscle and meat. He isn’t trim; he is bulky. Huge. Firm. Hard. Powerful. Heavy. Oh, I want to feel that weight on me. I want to lose breath beneath it.
Staring at me, he kicks off his combat boots and removes his belt and his armoured vest, undressing until he is down to a black shirt and pants. More…
“Brook says you have tattoos…” My eyes drip down the dark shirt clinging to his thick form, but now without his belt, I get snared on something lower.
Longer. Protruding. I’ve felt his length pressed against my back, not seen it.
I snap my eyes up to meet his, his cheekbones pulsing as he strides towards me.
“Are you feeling present tonight, little queen?” he asks, voice the deepest tone one could ever imagine.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Strong or little?”
I glance at Eagle Rome on my bedside table. “I feel strong,” I confirm, turning my cheek to meet the pillow, to face my giant Guardian as he pulls back the sheet and crawls onto the mattress.
“In your clothes?” I ask.
“Not for your eyes.” Heat builds between our bodies when he lies down, then tenses. “Fuck.”
I roll to face the other way, all his rejections climbing into my sense of self and wreaking havoc, making me yearn.
Angry.
“Fuck it.” He wraps his arms around me, pressing his front to my back, a feral growl rumbling through my spine. “You’re going to get me killed, little queen.”
He is holding me again.
Five touches. I feel like my vows kill me every day, without this, without the closeness of the one man I collected pieces of trust for. And even though I split them up, they are so quickly gathering again.
“Forgive me for my actions and manner tonight, little queen. I’ve sworn too much in your presence and been too candid.”
I inhale courage. “I thought you were always candid with me…” I know he isn’t. This campaign has shown me that men are wild, primal creatures. “I’m not meant to be with a man, ever.”
He tenses. “Am I scaring you?”
“No.” I lean back into him, my body softly asking him to stay. Please. Don’t leave. “I’m feeling things lately.”
A menacing breath descends upon me. "Is this about Bled?" That name expels with an obvious bite. Have they had a quarrel? Does Kong disapprove of his progressive nature?
“What?” I scoff. “No.”
“Have you broken your vows?”
“No.” My heart gutters at the question. “When would I have time do such a thing?” I whisper numbly into the dim room.
“I am away for months at a time with your brother,” he says, his body relaxing slightly behind me. “I don’t know what you do while I am gone or who you are when no one is watching you.”
I’m nobody. “Lonely.”
“What about your Army?”
“I have Ana now,” I admit, the conversation coming easily. With him behind me, as always. We seem to communicate best in the dim, in perceived privacy. “She’s been with me for a few months. She’s different. It’s been nice having her around.”
“Yes.” I hear his smile. “And you changed the rules for her. You didn’t even ask permission to change her Trade. You simply made a queen’s decision and offered her a position in your Army. I was so proud of you that day.”
I hadn’t thought about it like that. When I invited her to become part of my Army, the words just came out. I didn’t request permission from Cairo or my brother.
Should I have?
Yes, I should have.
“You watch me… See everything. Even things I don’t see myself.”
“That’s my Purpose,” he offers, but there is something more in his voice, something forbidden and raw.
“You didn’t tell me you were proud,” I say, inhaling hard, absorbing his masculine scent—earth and rain and him.
“We don’t speak often, little queen. I thought it…” His words trail off into silence. “I’m proud of you, little queen.”
My throat tightens. I’ve felt a lot in my life, but the liquid joy that just burst through my chest has no rival. The backs of my eyes burn as I try to remember a time I’ve heard those powerful four words.
I’m proud of you.
I can’t recall…
“Are you proud of yourself?” he adds.
I blink, truly considering that question. I’ve never felt proud of myself; not the broken queen, the fragile, useless monarch who feels like a little girl trapped in a grown woman’s body. Am I proud of myself for helping Ana? For deciding without permission?
“I honestly didn’t think much of it at the time,” I say softly. “She was going to be sent away, and she is Aster’s friend. I didn’t want them to send her away. I just fixed the problem for her. It seemed simple.”
“One day, you’ll be proud of yourself. That will be a day I do not want to miss.”
A smile touches my lips.
I wish to freeze time.
How many touches is this, when the hold is constant?
One long one? Or hundreds of small ones?
I find myself not wanting this moment to end despite how the touches are counted.
I close my eyes, revelling in other senses.
The room is filled with my heartbeat and the steady, warm breaths blanketing me from behind.