Chapter 80 Danica
Danica
Ishimmy back into my dress—all cleaned up—tugging the emerald fabric over my curves as I throw Rhyland a mischievous smirk.
"What's with you and bathroom nookie, sexy buns?
This is becoming a pattern. First, the bathroom at Playful Pint, now here—should I be worried you have some public restroom fetish I should know about? "
Rhyland's eyes darken as he steps into my space, backing me against the counter with one powerful arm caging me in. His bearded jaw grazes my cheek as he leans down, voice a dangerous rumble against my ear.
"What can I say, baby? Something about watching you get all prim and proper after I've had you screaming my name with your dress around your waist." His fingers trace the neckline of my dress, just barely skimming the swell of my breast. "Besides, Angel, you're the one who started this little game.
Don't act like you don't get off on the possibility of getting caught. "
"Fine, you caught me," I purr, batting my eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.
"I have a thing for my man getting all territorial in public.
I mean, who wouldn't get hot and bothered watching you go all alpha hole?
" I trail a finger down his chest, my smile turning devilish.
"Besides, what's the point of having a centuries-old sex god for a mate if I can't make other women cry with envy?
Consider it my contribution to public entertainment—spreading sexual frustration one bathroom quickie at a time. "
Rhyland's laugh rumbles deep in his chest, a sound that's equal parts amusement and dark promise.
His eyes darken to that dangerous midnight blue as he presses me harder against the counter, the marble edge digging into my back.
"You're one kinky little minx, you know that?
" His hand slides possessively up my thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
"Just when I think I've got you figured out, you pull something like this.
" His fingers dig into my flesh with delicious pressure.
"Making me want to do very, very bad things to you. "
I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "What can I say? A girl's got to keep her thousand-year-old Viking on his toes." I lean in close, letting my breath ghost over his ear as I whisper, "Besides, your 'bad things' are my favorite things. So really, we both win."
"Fuck, Angel," he groans, his eyes dancing with wicked amusement. "A millennium on this earth, and you're still the only one who can make me lose my damn mind." His thumb traces my bottom lip, his gaze following the movement. "And enjoy every second of it."
I smile, hooking my fingers through his belt loops.
"Well, let's put that millennium of experience to good use.
" I tug him toward the door with a deliberate sway of my hips.
"Because this dance floor isn't going to set itself on fire, and I've got plans for you that don't involve hiding in bathrooms all night.
" I throw him a saucy wink over my shoulder.
"Though I thoroughly enjoyed our little. .. intermission."
Warmth surrounds me as consciousness returns.
Rhyland's muscled arm drapes heavily across my waist, his breath steady against my neck.
The goosedown blanket whispers with each slight movement, a cocoon of softness around our tangled limbs.
His morning wood presses insistently against the curve of my ass, a reminder that some parts of him never truly rest.
Embers pop and hiss in the stone fireplace, casting amber shadows across the room. Beyond the frost-etched windows, snow falls in thick, silent curtains, transforming the world into a pristine white canvas. A Christmas card scene come to life.
I smile, remembering last night—Rhyland's hands possessively gripping my hips on the dance floor, his body moving perfectly with mine.
His eyes darken—watching me, that predatory intensity making my skin tingle.
For a man who claimed to hate dancing, the way he'd rolled his hips against mine told a different story.
The memory alone sends heat pooling low in my belly.
After our bathroom encounter, I'd practically had to bite my tongue to keep from dragging him back for round two. My body still bears the evidence of our passion—delicious soreness between my thighs, faint bruises blooming where his fingers had gripped too hard.
I arch my back slightly, pressing against his hardness, feeling him stir in response.
His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer against the hard planes of his chest. Lips brush the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
"Mmm," I murmur, nuzzling closer.
Rhyland's kisses grow more deliberate, trailing up my neck to the sensitive spot behind my ear.
His beard scrapes deliciously against my skin, the slight sting only heightening the sensation.
His hand slides up from my waist, palm warm as it cups my breast, thumb circling lazily over my nipple until it pebbles beneath his touch.
"Merry Christmas, Angel," he rumbles, voice still rough with sleep. His morning voice—that deep, gravelly sound—never fails to make my stomach flutter. His cock presses more insistently against me as he rocks his hips forward.
His other hand sweeps my hair aside, exposing more of my neck to his attention. "Best Christmas morning I've had in centuries," he murmurs against my skin between kisses. "Waking up with you in my arms... nothing compares."
I turn in his embrace, needing to see his face.
Morning sunlight filtering through the snow-frosted windows catches in his ocean-blue eyes, making them glow like sapphires.
His black hair stands in adorable sleep-mussed spikes, and the sight of him—powerful, ancient warrior with bed head—makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
"Merry Christmas," I whisper back, reaching up to trace the bearded line of his jaw.
His eyes darken at my touch, pupils dilating. Without warning, he rolls me onto my back, his powerful body caging mine against the mattress. The blanket slides away, cool air kissing my skin for just a moment before Rhyland's heat envelops me again.
"I have a present for you," he murmurs, lips hovering above mine.
"I can feel that," I tease, shifting my hips against his obvious arousal.
A wicked smile curves his mouth. "Not that. Though that's yours whenever you want it." He reaches over to the nightstand, muscles flexing beneath his tattooed skin.
His jaw is set with purpose when he turns back, but his eyes betray everything.
"I've walked this earth for over a thousand years," he states, voice deep and unwavering. "I've conquered enemies, ruled territories, and amassed more wealth than most kingdoms. I thought I had everything I could possibly need."
His hand emerges with a small midnight-blue velvet box, fingers curling possessively around it.
"Then you crashed into my existence and proved me wrong."
My breath catches, a lump forming in my throat as he continues.
"Before you, I was just... surviving. Moving through time without purpose, without true connection." His voice breaks slightly. "You didn't just walk into that club that night, Dani. You walked into my soul and lit up every dark corner I'd forgotten existed."
He opens the box with trembling fingers. Inside nestles a ring that steals my breath—a brilliant oval diamond surrounded by sapphires that match his eyes perfectly, set in intricate white gold that resembles ancient Norse knotwork.
"Our souls are already bound in ways no human ceremony could match," he says, voice dropping. "But you deserve everything, Angel. And I intend to give it to you."
His calloused thumb brushes away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "You faced down gods and monsters without flinching. You've seen the darkness in me and claimed it as your own. You are mine in every way that matters across all realms."
He takes the ring from its velvet nest, holding it between us like a vow. "I want the world to know it, too. I want to watch you walk down that isle in white, wearing my mark, my ring for everyone to see. I want to claim you in the human way, just as I've claimed you in every other."
Tears spill freely down my cheeks now, but I don't look away from the fierce determination in his gaze.
"I know it's traditional, maybe even cliché," he says with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "But after a millennium of darkness, I find myself desperately wanting these human moments with you. Will you marry me, Angel? Make this ancient, broken vampire the happiest man across all seven realms?"
A sob escapes me, joy so intense it feels like physical pain blooming in my chest. This man—this dominant, protective force of nature—demands my answer while offering me his immortal heart.
"Yes," I manage through tears, my hands clutching at his shoulders. "God, Rhyland, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes!"
Rhyland's smile blazes brighter than any light I've ever created—those damn dimples making my heart stutter in my chest. His hands, capable of wielding lightning and devastating enemies, are impossibly gentle as he slides the ring home.
The metal feels warm against my skin, like it's always belonged there.
"Mine," he growls against my knuckles, pressing a kiss there that brands me straight to my soul. His voice carries centuries of possessiveness, wrapped in tender devotion. "Now and for all eternity."
"Yours," I whisper back, my heart so full it might burst. I press my forehead to his, feeling that electric connection spark between us. "I'll always be yours—I love you, you beautiful, brooding, towel-dropping disaster of a Viking."