Epilogue
VIVIENNE
Iwaddle. There is no other word for it. My belly is round and heavy, my back aches, and my ankles are swollen. I make my way across our chambers, one hand braced against the small of my back, the other rubbing circles over my tight skin.
Gods, I love this child already, but if I don’t sit down soon, I might actually collapse.
Auren watches me from where he stands near the fire. He has been hovering all day—hovering since I started showing, really. I know it’s out of love, but sometimes, I swear, he looks at me like I’m a glass sculpture about to crack.
“You should sit down,” he says, already moving toward me.
“I’m fine,” I reply as I carefully lower myself onto the plush sofa before the fire, shifting until I find something close to comfortable.
Vaelen curls up on his nest of blankets near the door. He’s become very protective of me during my pregnancy. Auren even teases sometimes that Vaelen prefers me over him. But I know the truth. He loves both of us equally.
The heat from the hearth warms my skin, the golden light dancing across the polished stone floors.
Auren sits beside me, lifting my feet into his lap.
“Auren, what are you—oh gods.”
His thumbs press into my aching arch, working slow, deep circles into my skin.
A loud moan escapes me, and Auren laughs in response.
“Is that better, my beautiful wife?” His voice is low and teasing, but there’s something reverent in it, something worshipful.
I let my head fall back against the cushions, completely and utterly relaxed. “I swear, your hands are magic.”
“You have the daintiest feet,” he muses as he kneads the ball of my foot, up to my ankle, massaging away the tension with practiced ease.
I crack one eye open, meeting his amused gaze. “Dainty and swollen,” I grumble.
He quirks a brow, digging his thumbs into a particularly sore spot, and I swear, I nearly melt into the sofa.
“That’s so good.” I moan. “Don’t stop.”
Auren continues his wonderful massage, easing my aching feet.
I sigh, resting a hand on my belly. “Remind me of this moment if we ever decide to do this again.”
“Do what?” he asks.
“Have another child.”
He stills for half a heartbeat then starts working his way up my calf, slow and deliberate, stroking his thumbs in firm, lazy circles.
“I can’t promise that,” he murmurs.
I narrow my eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. “And why not?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shifts, moving to sit behind me, his hands sliding down my back.
“Right there,” I breathe as his fingers dig into my lower back, pressing into every aching spot. “Oh gods,” I whisper, arching slightly. “That feels amazing, Auren.”
He makes a low, satisfied sound, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I love when you say my name like that.”
Heat coils deep within as a small shiver of pleasure moves down my spine.
It always starts like this, with him giving me a massage. And then somehow, it turns into something else entirely.
The first time it happened was when we returned from Thornreach. He joined our hands with the bonding ribbon from our ceremony, and we made love several times. A smile curves my lips. I’m fairly certain that was the night we conceived.
Auren insists the gods blessed our union because of the binding ribbon, and I believe he was right.
His hands skim lower, kneading, stroking, worshipping.
I sigh, utterly boneless, melting into him.
He leans in and brushes his lips over the sensitive spot just behind my ear as he whispers, “You’re beautiful, my Vivienne.”
“I don’t feel very beautiful right now,” I admit.
His hands still, his lips brushing along my neck, soft and lingering. “You have never looked more lovely.”
“You’re just saying that,” I murmur, half-teasing but half not.
“I love the way you look.” His hands move over my rounded belly, heavy with our child. He presses another kiss to the curve of my neck and shoulder, and a low growl of arousal vibrates in his chest. “Do you know what it does to me, Vivienne? To see you carrying our child.”
A soft whimper escapes me, and his hands begin to wander again.
He can’t seem to keep his hands off me. Every day, he touches me like he can’t help himself, like he’s memorizing every change in my body, worshiping every part of me.
His lips find my ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “You are perfect.”
He cups my chin and guides my face back to his, kissing me long and deep. When he pulls back, he gently tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. “You are beautiful, intelligent, witty, adorably stubborn… and you have captured my heart entirely.”
His gaze travels over my face. “You are my heart.” He splays his palm over my rounded belly. “And you have given me everything, me’lira.”
Tears sting my eyes. I struggle to blink them back, but one escapes and rolls down my cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb. “Why are you crying, my beautiful wife?”
“Because I’m so happy,” I tell him as more tears begin to fall. “And because I’ve been really emotional lately.” I sniffle. “And because I can’t decide upon a name,” I add because it’s been a frustrating search and nothing sounds right to me yet. Not for a boy or a girl.
“Not to worry.” He flashes a handsome smile. “We’ll figure one out together. We have plenty of time.”
I huff in mock frustration. “Oh, I knew you’d say that.”
He arches a brow. “Did you now?”
I nod. “You hardly ever worry about anything,” I tease.
“And you worry entirely too much,” he jokes in return.
We both laugh for a moment before his expression turns serious. “I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“If we have a girl, we can name her after your mother.”
My heart squeezes. “I love that idea.” A thought occurs to me. “And if we have a boy, we can name him after your father. What do you think?”
He brushes his lips again to mine. “I think”—he grins—“that I’m the most blessed male alive.”
I smile at him. “Then we are both the most blessed,” I whisper, lacing my fingers with his.
He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. His blue eyes stare deep into mine, full of love and devotion. “Let me worship you, my queen,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve been longing to have you in my arms all day, and I want you more than anything.”
My heart swells, so full it feels as though it might burst. I lean closer, my fingers brushing his jaw as I hold his gaze. “Then you may have me, my love. Always.”