CHAPTER 26 ROMAN #3
When I’m satisfied she’s clean and her hair is conditioned, I quickly wash the blood from my body and guide us out.
We dry ourselves before moving to the bed.
We don’t talk. It’s what I love most about her.
She’s kind of like Felix that way, comfortable in the silence just as much as she is with the noise and laughter.
I pull on my boxers as she pulls on one of my shirts and I get that same sick, satisfying feeling I do when I think about her being pregnant with my baby. Crawling into bed, I pull her body flush with mine. My arms wrap tightly around her waist as she moulds to me like she was designed just for me.
It stays quiet for so long that I think she’s asleep and my hand moves to rest over her stomach.
“I’m going to miss you,” she declares so softly that I almost think I imagined it.
The words make no sense as a slow panic claws up my throat. I frown against her hair, pulling her closer like that might somehow make her stay.
“Miss me?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you going?” I ask, not masking the confusion threading through my voice.
She is quiet for a beat too long and the slow panic turns into an avalanche. I twist us so she is flat on her back, my body caging her in as I take in her sad, wistful features.
“Where are you going, Tink?” I repeat, firmer this time, determined to get an answer.
“I thought I could cope with it,” she whispers, her eyes filling with unshed tears as my heart pounds so hard it hurts. “But I can’t, I won’t… it will hurt too much.”
“What will? I don’t understand.”
“You… you with your two promised. I won’t pretend to be happy for you whilst I prepare to live in a compound.”
I go still. Annoyance flashes sharp and immediate at the thought. Fae reads it wrong. Her body tenses and a small divot forms between her brows.
I’m not annoyed at her for presuming. I’m annoyed at myself for not telling her sooner.
Does she really think I could ever walk away from her?
Has she been thinking our time together had a time frame on it?
All this time I’ve been panicking over telling her, whilst she’s been panicking that I’m leaving.
Her features crumple slightly as the first tear falls. I catch it with my tongue, licking it up before pulling back so she can see my face.
“Tinkerbell, I am sorry.”
Her nose scrunches up and I can tell instantly I’ve said the wrong thing as another tear slips from her eye.
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m not sorry because I’m leaving you. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, little one. You’re my promised.”
Her eyes go wide. It’s like she stops breathing.
“I made a bid on you two years ago.”
“What?” she whispers in disbelief and I nod.
“You’re my promised, Fae. You’re my forever.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” I chuckle, nuzzling into her. “You think I would ever let you walk away?”
I feel her smile against me as her arms wrap around my neck and I tighten my hold on her.
“But I’m a Swallow, I thought…”
“You thought wrong. I don’t care what role you take in The Company and when you become my wife, I have the right to request you change expertise, or at the very least not take on sexual duties.”
Her breath hitches at that and her bottom lip quivers.
“I will marry you, Fae. You will take my name, bear my children, and stand beside me.”
“Wh… what… who is your other?”
Her eyes are uncertain as she looks at me and I take a slow breath.
“Quinn.”
“Gross.” She scrunches up her nose and a chuckle falls out of me as I bend down and gently kiss the wrinkles she made.
“Yup. But listen, I need you to trust me. Can you try? It’s going to be hard. I need to keep up appearances with my dad, it was part of the deal, and Quinn is a political move for him. I’ll need to be seen at some public functions with her—”
“Will you fuck her?” she cuts me off.
“No,” I respond firmly so she understands.
“No fucking, no kissing. I’m not interested in her, Tink.
This is simply to placate my dad until graduation, okay?
I do not make empty promises, and I promise not only that I will be faithful to you, but that I will be marrying you.
No compounds. No running away. No doing things on your own anymore. It’s me and you… okay?”
She gives me a soft smile and steals my lips in a gentle kiss.
Her hands curl into my shoulder like she needs something solid to ground her and I kiss her back with all the words left unspoken.
Breaking away, I brush my thumb over her lips before pulling her back into position, her back pressed tight against my chest. The peace I search for during the day settles over me like a weighted blanket as I inhale her vanilla and honey scent.
Her breathing begins to steady. The tension in her body slowly unwinds as my palm makes small circles on her stomach. Hopefully soon, our baby will be growing there and she will understand just how serious I am about keeping her forever.
“You are mine,” I whisper into her hair, “not because of a promise, not because of politics. Because I chose you.”
She nods once, small and fragile, before sleep takes her. I stay awake, running through the day and what we found.
As I lie in the dark, listening to her breathing, memorising the weight of her in my arms, I make another silent promise to myself.
No one takes her from me.
Not blood.
Not contracts.
Not legacy.
No one.