Chapter Thirty One
PEDR
Mila’s hair curled around everything.
Pedr’s pillow.
His shirt.
Through his fingers.
In his beard.
The plaguing blackness that pulled him away from Mila and into weakness and sleep dissipated like a settling wind.
He woke to find his hand tangled in her silk tresses, the smell of rosewater scenting his rising dreams. Reflexively, he nearly closed his fingers in a fist and pulled her close.
He couldn’t help the instinct to hold on.
If he let go, she’d disappear and he wouldn’t survive that agony twice.
His limbs felt lighter and weaker at the same time. For fifteen years, he hadn’t slept a wink. Now, as the arcane bled away, leaching his vitality and future, he couldn’t do anything but sleep. He loathed every second it separated him from Mila.
Pedr opened his eyes slowly. Darkness coated his cabin, and a warm bundle slept in his arms. He found a smile. Mila.
Her breath rose and fell steadily, arm loosely draped over his chest. He lifted his left arm to curl it around her back.
His fingers bumped delicately along the ridges of her spine, memorizing the rhythm of her bones.
She stirred, inhaled, and eased into another breath.
Eyelashes fluttering, she returned to dreams.
He studied her, enraptured.
Shite, but he hadn’t planned on feeling this strongly once they saw each other. In the depths of despair and loneliness, doubts often weakened him. He never questioned his affection or loyalty, nor hers, but reality couldn’t be denied: they hadn’t seen each other for a decade and a half.
He expected and feared awkwardness, lashing emotions, indifference, perhaps confusion. Worries that she’d forgotten him, gave up, moved on, plagued him every day.
None of it had been real. This Mila was better than his daydreams.
This clarity caught him by surprise, along with his absolute loyalty to her. He hadn’t expected to feel more endlessly knotted in her charms, either. He thought himself wholly devoted. But now?
Thunder.
Earthquakes.
Nothing equated to what he felt in his chest. The animalistic protectiveness, the surge of desire.
A wonder, this woman. She brought more to his life than he ever dreamed possible.
He leaned into the childlike delight of seeing her again, replaying the moment of reconciliation with pristine detail over and over again.
Her gasp.
Her sacred whisper of his name.
His fingers twirled her silky strands around his nail, idly playing with them while he considered the emptiness within his body, the yawning change in his soul.
He felt the arcane unbraiding. Already, his soul resembled a land sucked free of nutrients.
A frozen tundra, empty sea. Nothing, nothing within.
Only the agony of expanse.
Blank space.
The utter lack of arcane frightened him the most. As his abilities bled to ether, so did Pedr’s connection to himself, to the sea.
He missed the water; craved it. Longed to slice into the cool waves, feel them crashing overhead.
The thought of never experiencing his connection with the arcane again became unbearable.
Obliteration and non-existence awaited and?—
“Pedr?”
He jerked out of his thoughts, sucking in an unnecessary breath. Mila regarded him with sleepy eyes, propped on an elbow, studying him through slow blinks. A smile appeared as she squinted at him. Her hand lifted to trail down his cheek.
“Are you all right, my love?”
Covering her hand with his, he murmured, “I am now. Where are we?”
Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, she yawned. “I don’t know exactly where we are. Actually, I don’t think anyone does. We’re heading north, chasing Himmel and hoping that we can get into her Hall.”
“When are we supposed to arrive?”
“In the morning, I think.” She squinted at the horizon, which showed the faintest hint of lightening. “Within a few hours, I would wager.”
That bought them a few hours together, assuming his consciousness lasted that long.
“Hmmm.”
“Himmel hasn’t returned.”
Caught by surprise, he could only say, “Really?”
Mila nodded, grave. “At least,” she added, running her bottom lip through her teeth, “not that Einar has mentioned. I think he’d tell me right away. She’s searching for the Hall of the Sky and Jordaire and . . .”
Mila trailed away, giving Pedr a moment to absorb what it meant. If Himmel hadn’t returned, the news may not be awful. Himmel wouldn’t grow distracted. A quick return could mean failure. A long return could mean failure. He rubbed a hand over her bare shoulder.
“It’ll be okay, Mila. She’s probably finding good information.”
To his surprise, Mila held a hand up to her mouth and giggled. “Do I have morning breath?”
“Atrociously.”
The plucky woman breathed on him, and he laughed. It felt good to release something. To leave the irresolute thoughts behind him. Mila swung a leg over his waist and climbed on top to see him better. Hair cascaded off her shoulders from a collapsing bun.
“It’s good to see you awake,” she whispered. Her eyes canted overhead for a moment. “It’s almost the morning of day three.”
Well, that wasn’t what he wanted to discuss.
His hand splayed across the middle of her back, palm pressed to spine.
The heat of her skin crept through her dress like a star.
It settled him, her bold smile, cheeky, sparkling eyes.
She stabilized and held and flowed. Something hesitant appeared in her wide eyes, and he caught it before it faded.
“You’re worried,” Pedr stated.
She sighed a raspberry, hair gushing out of her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t guess?” she cried, still laughing. “You have no idea what’s weighing on me?”
He parried with his own cheeky smile. Twiddling his hands above his head, he said, “Not a clue. Life looks pretty good from my angle, though it would be better if you took your clothes off.”
Heat filled her cheeks. She laughed, but it faded into something like fear. Her wrinkled forehead gave him instant concern, but he forced himself to patience. Grasping both of her hands in his, he asked, “What is it?”
Her fingers curled together within the cocoon of his hands over them, mimicking her slumping shoulders and small voice.
“I’m afraid.” She set her hands on his chest, her soul staring into his eyes.
“Me too.”
“Are you really?”
He reached up, slipped a piece of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “I’d be a fool not to be terrified.”
“You seem very calm.”
“I’m an exceptional liar.”
A rangy laugh bubbled in her throat, driven by desperation and terror and a slightly macabre sense of humor.
Instead of replying, she kissed him. Her hot touch intensified his anxiety.
There was so much to lose. He couldn’t stand to think about the impossibility of their situation, so he wrapped her in fire and affection and the ravages of lust. His passion created a tide, whisking them free.
Pedr pulled her into his hold where the fear faded.
The fatal urge to press into Mila harder wasn’t something he could fight.
Loving her would be worth it.
Every moment.
Pedr lost himself to the moment, with her legs straddling him, her hands wild in his hair. He pulled away, dragging in a breath. His whispered name on her lips turned his belly to fire.
“Mila?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
The words seemed to punch her in the chest. She froze; eyes locked.
He chuckled, gently holding her face in both of his massive hands.
“I love you. I have loved you for fifteen years, and hated myself for not saying it more before I lost you. I love you, my darling. My rose. It might be crazy, and it might be selfish, but . . . you have me. Body and soul, you have me. I believe in us. I believe in what we have together. Nothing will break us. Nothing. Certainly not a bastid like Onskar.”
A new light, something brutally bright, illuminated her from within. It embodied what he felt in his gut. Tears sparkled in her eyes when she murmured, “Pedr, I have always loved you. Every minute of the fifteen years. Every second?—”
He swept her hair out of her face and sat. All his previous weakness slid away and he knew himself as he used to—energetic. Obsessed with Mila. Ready to touch her all night long. He pulled her into a hot kiss, powered by the bottled fire and passion of their years apart.
She moaned in her throat, and he lost the tenuous grip to which he clung. Pedr flipped her onto her back, growled as he climbed on top, and devoured her. Her hair splayed wide as he lost himself in the blissful oblivion for which he’d waited for so long.
An hour passed with the two of them tangled in each other. Tears scudded silently down Mila’s face as she clung to his shoulders while the sunrise washed the sky. Thoroughly spent, Pedr wrapped her tight in his arms, closed his eyes, and sank to the pillows again. Depleted, relaxed, euphoric.
The scent of rosewater made his head swim.
Mila.
He carefully navigated the space between falling into oblivion and soaking up these final moments with Mila. He had no energy left, but he didn’t want to leave.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Mila’s hold on him tightened. She didn’t need to speak. Language failed to provide the proper description for the merging they’d shared. Hints of their previous hunger awoke in him again, watching her.
He’d never felt this way.
About anything or anyone.
What they shared was a gift no one else could take.
Dawn woke the sky in palest blue hues. Another sunrise, another day gone.
Tears soaked Pedr’s neck as Mila clung to him.
He tried not to tense as she wept. Sweeping the hair out of her face, he tucked it behind her ear and began to hum.
The rhythm forced him to take steady breaths, as if he were human again.
A motion that, to his great surprise, soothed him.
The agonizing tightness in his chest eased when he breathed in, so he continued.
Gradually, Mila calmed. She snuggled closer to his neck, swiping tears away.