18. LAYLA
Eighteen
LAYLA
A letter arrives from MeliTar. I read it at breakfast, and I know something is wrong because I go very still. Then I start crying. The ugly, shoulder-shaking kind.
Soren takes the letter from my trembling hands. My dad’s handwriting. He’s proud of me. The peace is holding. Trade routes have reopened. Border villages are thriving.
And he misses me. Every day.
Soren sets the letter down and pulls me into his lap. I’m sobbing into his neck.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“I miss him,” I choke out. “I miss the sun. I miss the sea. I miss my home, Soren.”
“Then I’ll take you back,” he says immediately. “Tomorrow. Next week. Whenever you want.”
I pull back. “Really?”
“You’re my wife, Layla. My queen. My everything. If you need to see your father, we go. If you need to feel the sun, I’ll charter a ship and sail us there myself.”
I laugh through my tears. “You hate the sun.”
“I hate the sun,” he agrees. “But I love you. So I’ll endure it.”
I kiss him then. Soft and sweet.
“Your father gave me the only thing he couldn’t afford to lose,” he tells me, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m not wasting it. I’m not wasting a single second with you.”
I sniffle, smiling. “You say the most romantic things when I’m crying.”
“I’m a romantic guy.”
I snort. “You’re a Viking brute who fingered me against a wall on our third day.”
“And now I’m your husband who loves you.”
He lifts me, carrying me back to our bed. He lays me down gently and strips my clothes with reverent hands. This time is different. Slower. He kisses every inch of me, my neck, my breasts, the curve of my belly where our baby grows.
When he finally pushes inside me, we move together like we’re breathing. Face to face. Eye to eye.
“You’re my whole world,” he whispers, thrusting deep. “My queen. My mate. The mother of my child. I don’t deserve you, Layla. But I’m keeping you anyway.”
I wrap my legs around him. “You deserve me. And I’m keeping you too.”
We come together, her pussy milking my cock while I flood her. After, he holds me while I drift off, his hand on my stomach, his heart full.
No more war. No more enemies. Just us. And our future.