Chapter Ninety-Four
Raine
Asher shifts against me. It’s a small movement, and I’m awake before I fully understand why. It’s his breathing. It’s changed from the deep, slow rhythm I fell asleep to. It’s something lighter now.
I don’t move. I watch his face in the dim glow from the bedside lamp. Cataloging, like I’ve been doing my whole life. Bruises, darkening. The one on his cheek is going to be there for a few days. Dehydration, better. Lips not as cracked. Skin tone improved, not quite normal, but closer.
His eyes open slowly, focused on nothing. Until his hand finds mine under the blanket someone must have pulled from the couch and draped over us while we slept.
A rich, salty scent fills the room. Warm and savory and the complete opposite of everything that’s happened in the past two days.
Asher’s brow furrows slightly. His nostrils flare.
“Someone…found a use…for the marjoram.”
His voice is rough and quiet and real. No more than a whisper, but unmistakably his.
I open my mouth to reply, but there are no words for what I’m feeling. They belong to him. All of them.
His breath catches, his hand tightening on mine as his whole body shudders. I can’t slide my gaze from his eyes. From the sheen of tears he couldn’t cry until now. All over a spice neither of us has ever found a use for.
His words finally cut through the fog of sleep and joy and relief. I push up on an elbow and arch a brow. “Marjoram? Really?”
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “First thing…that came to mind.”
My laugh is small and broken, but it feels so good, I don’t care. My hand finds his cheek the way it did in that lobby. Except this time, it’s just the two of us, in a bed we’ve shared, in a safe house, surrounded by the scent of marjoram.
“Can I—?”
He knows what I’m asking before I say the words.
“Yes.”
I lean in, the kiss careful in the way everything will be careful for the next little while. He brushes his hand over my hair, the motion slow and deliberate, as if he needs to reassure himself I’m real.
His tears seep under my fingers still resting lightly against his cheek, and I pull back enough to look at him.
Everything they did, the hours and hours of questions and pain and exhaustion are etched into his skin. “Thought…lost…” His voice fails, and he squeezes his eyes shut. One more injustice after so many others.
“No,” I whisper. “No. You didn’t lose me. You could never lose me. I choose you, Asher. Always.”
A breath shudders through him. “Choo—” The word falls apart before he can finish it. Frustration pinches his brows, and I kiss him again. Slower this time.
I put just enough space between us to whisper against his lips. “I love you.”
His fingers tighten in my hair, drawing me closer. My forehead rests against his, and I count the rise and fall of his chest so I don’t fall apart when he needs me the most.
At ten, he swallows hard. “Love…you.”