CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE #4
Evylin marveled at his restraint as her fingers ached to reach for him.
She struggled to keep her voice even as she spoke.
“Time would have done a lot for us, I think. I might not have been so afraid of you and how—” The words tried to fly away, but she scrambled to capture them like memories nearly forgotten to time.
“How you made me feel. No matter what—whether you wrote to me or if we married as we did—I think we always would have ended up together.”
She took one last breath before releasing her fear, feeling the tension of it lift from her chest once and for all. “I’ve known for a while now. I’ve known just how much I wanted you—how much I . . .” Her words dropped to a whisper that was almost too gentle for her own ears. “How much I love you.”
A weighty breath slipped from Deckard’s lips.
Tears blurred the edges of Evylin’s vision. “And knowing that scared me more than death itself,” she admitted. “So I told myself it wasn’t true. I lied to myself and to you.”
“Evylin,” he whispered, his smile so bright and so tender it nearly broke her heart.
Deckard took her face in his hands, severing the final barriers between them.
Evylin gripped his arms as his thumbs brushed over her cheeks.
“I’ve loved you for months now, Jonn,” she told him, the strength returning to her voice.
“I just couldn’t bring myself to face it. And now . . . now we’re about to die.”
Deckard shook his head, leaning closer. “We’re not going to die, Evylin.”
“I think we are,” she said, the words almost a sob as she realized how much time they’d lost, what she’d stolen from them by giving in to her fear.
Yet, he didn’t seem to share her reservations or sorrow. He drew her in, his words a whisper against her lips, “I won’t let that happen.”
Evylin closed her eyes just as Deckard kissed her with a gentle caress so soft and filled with the love they’d once held back so carefully.
She’d always enjoyed kissing him, the magic within her veins rising at his touch.
But she’d never allowed herself to give her all to the experience.
No matter how passionate or desirous she felt in the moment, there was always a piece of her heart she’d kept from him.
She’d always clung to her fear that she was making a mistake, that she would lose herself if she gave her heart to him.
That fear no longer existed.
Evylin released every worry, bowing to the tide of magic that swept through her. Her senses rose as she returned his kiss with what she hoped he’d know was, at last, unrestrained love. All her heart and every ounce of hope, she poured into affection for him.
His fingers wove into her hair while his other hand dropped to her waist. He drew her closer than he ever had before, sending spikes of energy across her skin. She slid her hands up his arms to settle on his back, relaxing into his embrace.
“Evie,” he murmured between kisses.
“Mm?” she sighed against his mouth.
Deckard broke away only far enough to rest his forehead against hers.
His hand grazed her bare shoulder, power pulsing through his touch to bound across her skin.
The world became brighter in clarity. The weight of his hand on her lower back, the pattern of his heightened breathing, the scent of wine and fragrant oil—it all filled her senses with the promise of their love.
His nose brushed hers as he whispered, “Will you stay with me?”
Evylin smiled as his hand trailed from her shoulder, down her arm, and to her hand. She refused to hesitate, lacing her fingers with his. “Yes.”
Something between a sigh of relief and a laugh broke out of him, and he kissed her again. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
They returned to the kiss, though it was no longer gentle and tame but eager and impassioned.
His arm twined farther around her waist as he deepened the kiss.
Their embrace went on for untold minutes.
Her hands found their way beneath his coat to press against the firm planes of his chest as he caressed her arms, back, and sides.
Every touch, every breath enhanced her senses, drawing her magic out.
Eventually, he shrugged out of the coat, and she kicked off her slippers.
Deckard took her hand then, drawing her across the cold tiles and plush rugs toward the bed.
With the faintest interest, Evylin realized they hadn’t shared a bed in weeks.
In all that time, she never would have anticipated their first night back together would result in this.
Between kisses, affectionate touches, and euphoric laughs, Deckard finally worked free the buttons of her dress as she tugged loose the tails of his shirt.
Time slowed into an otherworldly stillness as he lifted her onto the mattress.
The downy comforter was cool against her skin and far too soft after weeks of sleeping on the hard forest floors of Wauld.
All her perceptions were overpowering—every sight, smell, taste, sound, and touch. And she never wanted it to end.
Yet, despite the blissful new sensations dancing along her skin, the cool stillness of magic steadied her mind, and Evylin’s absent-minded musings fell away to nothing as he kissed her, and she kissed him in return.
Fear was no longer a word she understood.
Everything around her and everything within her settled into Deckard’s arms until only one thought remained: Why hadn’t they done this months ago?