Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Thea
“Open!” Clay commanded, a grape clutched between his thumb and forefinger.
I narrowed my eyes at the fruit. “You wish for me to catch food?”
He nodded enthusiastically, amusement lighting up his features in a way that seemed to soothe my soul. “I do.”
He waved the grape between us, preparing to gear up for the throw. I only shook my head ruefully at him.
“Clay, that is ridiculous. We are adults and—”
The grape hit against the center of my forehead and bounced onto the bed between us. For a moment, we both stared down at it. I opened my mouth and closed it again, searching for the right words.
“I cannot believe you actually threw that at me.”
He grinned, grasping the discarded fruit in his fingertips and leaning towards me. I held out my tongue as he pressed it to my lips, and he placed it into my mouth, the pad of his thumb dancing across my lower lip as he did. I savored the flash of golden light in his eyes as he stared at my mouth.
“My apologies,” he mumbled.
A sudden wave of heat coursed over my skin as he pulled back once more, reclining back on the bed and giving me a clear view of the firm muscles lining his shoulders and stomach.
We still had yet to leave the bedroom, so we both lingered in various states of undress, often rotating between sleeping, nibbling on bits of meals that were delivered to us, and trying to catch up on all that had happened in the months that we had been apart.
Our time apart had left both of us changed, but in many ways, he was just as I had remembered him.
Leadership had perhaps left the area under his eyes more hollow than I remembered, and days spent training had given his hair and skin a sun-kissed glow, but his jaw was just as defined.
His pale, pink lips were just as full. And, thankfully—amazingly—his eyes were still just as full of love.
I swallowed heavily, feeling my cheeks warm with a blush as I reached for the plate that lingered between us and picked off more of the bread that had been delivered to us.
“You're staring,” I noted after a minute. The weight of his attention was undeniable.
He grinned. “Can you blame me?”
My brow lifted, mirroring the smirk he used to give me so frequently. “Maybe it makes me nervous.”
His tongue darted out quickly over his lower lip, his attention dropping to my mouth for a brief moment. “Does it?”
Nervous? No.
Overly sensitive, slightly needy, and undeniably alert? Most definitely yes.
“Perhaps,” I mused.
He chuckled, and that laughter hung between us as restlessness started to stir deep within me.
Unease always seemed to follow the brief moments of happiness we'd found since we reunited.
Standing, I rubbed my hands against the hem of Clay's oversized shirt, wiping away the crumbs that lingered. My heels crashed down onto the hardwood as I made my way towards the window. Only to pause momentarily while I spun and marched back to the bed.
To the window. Then to the bed.
To the window. And back.
Clay watched me as I paced, his breathing becoming measured even as he silently let me worry myself into a fit.
“You're going to wear a groove into the floor if you keep going.”
I reached for the throw pillow discarded on the floor and chucked it towards him. “That's a bit dramatic.”
He caught it one-handed, winking at me in the process. “That's the seventh time you've passed by me.”
His hand snaked out, wrapping around my wrist and pulling me back towards him.
The gentle touch sent an ache shooting up my arm, a constant reminder of the way it had once been brutalized.
I tried not to let that pain show on my face, but he released it as quickly as he had reached for me with an awkward, muttered apology.
It was all so awkward.
Things had never been awkward between us before.
Our interactions had always been heated, either with the flames of passion or those of irritation and anger.
We'd had a constant and predictable push and pull.
We'd understood each other without speaking, even in those early days when we didn't want to acknowledge just how well we understood each other.
I'd never had to think of a conversation topic with him.
Whether I'd been snapping at him and demanding he redefine his definitions of what warranted respect or confessing how deep my affections for him ran, the words had always come quickly and easily. But that had been then. Things were different now.
The dynamic had changed for a myriad of reasons.
Every time I looked down at my hands and saw the glint of steel staring back at me, I was reminded of one of those reasons.We'd lost our future.
“I didn't mean it,” I whispered, lost, thinking about the night that had torn us apart. “That night at the castle when I—”
When I married him.
The words fell between us even though I left them unspoken.
After a moment, he nudged my thigh with his knee, encouraging me to look up and meet his gaze. He sat up, hands reaching to circle my hips.
“I know that.” His voice was sure, not an ounce of doubt in it. “I knew the second that you said those words to him that you were simply warning me.”
My chest heaved in a relieved sigh even as I held up my hands between us, staring at the carefully carved dragons resting on the backs of my hands. “So, these things are really permanent, huh? There's no loophole?”
I kept my voice light, teasing.
Secretly hopeful.
If we could just get rid of these bands, Clay and I could have that future together. I would hold both of my hands over an open flame and melt them off if that's what it took.
But Clay only took my hands in his, kissing my knuckles gently. “Until death do you part, unfortunately.”
I scratched at them, pulling my hands from his grip and staring down at the bands in disgust. “I hate them.”
His lips quirked at the sulkiness in my tone, hands coming to my hips again as he sat up further. “Truthfully, so do I.”
Pulling me closer, he rested one hand on the small of my back and the other along my bare thigh. His skin against mine a familiar and calming warmth. I let myself fall into that safety, holding onto his shoulders for balance.
“It doesn't change anything,” he promised.
I tried not to let my reaction to those words show, but I failed entirely. My frustration was like a third presence in the room.
“It changes one thing.”
Everything had happened so fast. One moment, we had agreed to be together despite our bloodlines, and the next, we had lost the fight against Pasnia, and I'd married Caldrius.
Hardly any time had passed between those two life-changing events, and yet it had been enough time for me to start picturing that life with him.
Enough time to imagine his bands were the ones fused to each of my wrists.
Clay shifted, tugging on me again so that I fell into his lap.
Pulling back my hair, he pressed his lips quickly against my collarbone.
“I don't care, Thea. I only want you. I need no ceremony or vow between us to know that I want you today, tomorrow, and forever.
I don't need you to permanently wear my marriage bands to show the world what you mean to me. You may not be my wife, but you are my partner in every way that matters.”
Not for the first time, his words choked me, eliciting emotions so strong I could hardly breathe around them.
He was right.
I did want him as my husband—I had for longer than I could begin to comprehend—but I didn't need him to bear that title.
I only needed him at my side. I needed the moments where he understood me more than anyone else could.
I needed his smirks and challenges. I needed the brief moments when he relaxed and enjoyed life.
I needed his touch against my body, his lips pressed into mine, his body moving inside my own.
If that was all I could have from him in this life, than it was more than enough. It was enough for both of us.
“We need to go downstairs soon,” I whispered, throwing my leg onto the other side of his hip so that I straddled him along the edge of the bed. His eyes widened as the shift in position caught him by surprise. “But can we wait for just a little while longer?"
His chest rose and fell in steady, measured breaths. “We can wait for however long you want.”
I nodded. Good. That was good.
Leaning forward, I pressed my mouth to the hollow of his throat, sucking on the sensitive skin there. He groaned nearly immediately with satisfaction, hand flying to the back of my head to hold me close.
“Thea.” He was breathless as he said my name.
“I want you,” I confessed, feeling pangs of hungry need shooting through my body.
It had been so long since I'd been this close to him. His scent surrounded me, overpowering nearly all of my other senses, and I only wanted more. More of his smell. More of his touch. More of him.
He stroked a hand through my hair, fingers running all the way to the tips of my hips as he did. His touch was gentle, even as his other hand on my thigh was stiff with barely contained restraint.
“We don't have to, love,” he promised. “If you need more time to—”
“I'm here, Clayton. Not at the castle. Not captive in that town. Here. With you.”
His breath caught, eyes coasting over every inch of my face as he searched for any sign of doubt or fear in my features.
And truthfully, I felt nothing but doubt and fear. I doubted myself, my capabilities. I doubted my powers and if we could win this war without them. I felt terrified of losing any more friends and loved ones. My fear over what Hyrax would do to those I cared for was overpowering.
But those feelings wouldn't go away for a long time, and I didn't want to wait any longer to miraculously feel okay again. I wanted to live now. With him.
I didn't want more time to be haunted by the past few months.
I didn't want more time and distance separating us.
I didn't want to let anything else keep me from him.