Chapter 13 #2
When he finally released her throat, blood trickled warm down her neck. Darcy's tongue moved over the punctures with deliberate gentleness, collecting each drop while Elizabeth continued to shake in his arms, held fast on his knot, feeling every twitch and pulse of him buried deep within.
She was his.
He was hers.
The room spun gently around Elizabeth, her body floating somewhere between consciousness and dream.
Darcy's weight anchored her, his knot still locked deep inside, each tiny shift sending aftershocks through her overwrought nerves.
His tongue continued its ministrations at her throat, sealing the wounds he'd made, and the careful tenderness of it made her eyes burn with fresh tears.
"Mine," he murmured against her skin, the word reverberating through her bones. His hand cradled her face, thumb brushing away the moisture on her cheeks. "My omega. My wife. Mine."
Elizabeth's fingers traced the scratches she'd left on his shoulders, marks of her own making. "Yours," she agreed, then daringly, "And you're mine."
He lifted his head to study her face, something wild and possessive flashing in his eyes. "Say it again."
"You're mine, Fitzwilliam Darcy." Her voice grew stronger with each word. "My alpha. My husband."
His mouth crashed down on hers, the kiss tasting of copper and salt and belonging. When he pulled back, his expression held a vulnerability she'd never seen before.
"I've been yours since Netherfield," he confessed against her lips. "Since before. Since you refused me at Hunsford and showed me what a fool I'd been."
"But you weren't then," Elizabeth protested, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "You were a fool at Netherfield, sending me away each morning like I was something shameful—"
"Not a fool." His hand caught hers, pressing her palm flat against his chest where his heart beat wild and unsteady. "A man barely holding onto sanity. Do you know what torture it was, having you in my bed each night, tasting you, touching you, and knowing I couldn't keep you?"
Elizabeth shifted slightly—as much as their joining would allow—and felt his breath catch at the movement. "You could have kept me. I practically begged—"
"While in heat." His thumb traced her lower lip. "When your body overruled your mind. I couldn't trust that consent, couldn't live with myself if you'd woken clear-headed and realized I'd trapped you."
"Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are a fool if you think the heat invented my feelings." She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "As your wife, I have a duty to tell you the truth when you're being ridiculous."
His mouth quirked at that, something warm flickering in his eyes. "My wife." He tested the words again, rolling them on his tongue like fine wine. "Mrs. Darcy finds me ridiculous?"
"Frequently." She traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the rumble of what might have been laughter beneath her fingertips. "Though I suppose I should be grateful for your foolishness."
"Oh?"
"Think on it—what if I'd accepted you at Hunsford?
What if we'd married when I still believed myself a beta?
" The thought sent an unexpected chill through her.
"Perhaps I would have never presented as an omega.
Never have shared..." She gestured vaguely at their still-joined bodies, heat flooding her cheeks.
"This?" His hips rolled slightly, his knot tugging at her entrance in a way that made her gasp. "You think we wouldn't have found our way here?"
"How could we? If I'd never presented—"
Darcy's laugh was dark and rich as aged whiskey. "Elizabeth, you underestimate me." His mouth found her ear, teeth grazing the sensitive shell. "Did you think I wanted you less when I believed you a beta? That I didn't imagine having you exactly like this?"
Her breath stuttered. "But betas can't—your knot wouldn't—"
"No?" He smirked against her throat, and she felt the expression more than saw it. "I promise you, wife, we would have found a way to have your little cunt take all of me."
The crude word from his proper mouth made her clench around him involuntarily, drawing a groan from them both.
"Shocked, Mrs. Darcy?" His voice carried wicked amusement. "You'll find I'm quite creative when properly motivated. And you..." Another slight roll of his hips that had her nails digging into his shoulders. "You've motivated me beyond reason since the day I saw you."
"When you called me tolerable?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her position.
"When I lied through my teeth because admitting the truth—that you'd devastated me completely with one little smirk—would have meant surrendering before the battle began."
Elizabeth studied his face, finding only raw honesty in his expression. "And you do not surrender."
His thumb traced her claiming mark, the pressure making her shiver. "But I am not so foolish now. I surrender everything to you, Elizabeth. My name, my body, my sanity—all yours."
"Good," she breathed, rolling her hips and smiling when he groaned—turnabout was fair play. "Because I have plans for all three."
His bliss poured through their new bond. Complete. Absolute. It merged with her own happiness until the emotions became one bright, burning thing between them. Did he feel her joy as keenly? She hoped—desperately—that he did.