49. Enargite
Estela’s laughter follows us through the caves. Someone cleaned my suite while we were out, and I absently wonder who had shown us this kindness while we were at our meeting. The curiosity fades as I slam the door and cross the room to throw her onto the bed.
The shoulder of her dress goes askew, and she looks up at me with pure heat. It makes my own desire pique, and I admire the flush of her cheeks, the wildness of her hair, and the heave of her chest.
“I told you that you would never be taken from me again,” I say as I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.
Her eyes trace the movement, and I feel the flurry of emotions passing between us when she bites her lip.
”But I was taken,” she admits for the first time since we woke. “I died.”
I shake my head. “You were never going to be truly gone.”
Tears well up, and I decide that the time for tears has long since passed.
Tearing at the laces that hold my pants, I pull them off while simultaneously kicking off my shoes. Then I kneel by the bed, like a man prepared to meet his deity.
Estela props herself up on her forearms, watching me with hungry eyes.
I push up the cloth covering her ankles and then begin to remove her shoes. Each touch is possessive, but I feel how my pretty woman enjoys the attention I lavish upon her. I smile when her chest catches while taking a breath.
We have time,I say through the bond, and I mean it. Every second spent together will only be multiplied.
Estela bites her lip. “But?—”
I lean forward, pressing a finger to her mouth.
She sends me images of elves and darkness and every other harsh thing that swirls in the world outside.
Shaking my head, I begin to ease her out of her clothes. At the point of each undone fastening , I plant a soft kiss and whisper a promise through our bond.
At her shoulder, I say, I will protect you until the end of our days.
At her hip, I’ll hold you tight throughout the months to come.
At her knee, You need not fear for my life either.
A part of her lurks on the other end, wanting to contest each promise. So I grab each of her arms and put them above her head. She gasps at the sudden movement, but her heart races and her legs press together.
Harsh movements are not something I use often with my star, but perhaps I should move quickly more often.
For a second, I take her in.
Her skin glows in the dim room, and I memorize every curve of muscle and substance. My unoccupied hand skims across her skin, stopping to rub my thumb over her nipple.
She writhes beneath me.
“Teo,” she mews helplessly, grabbing my tail.
I shudder at her touch, but she pauses at the since shaven tip.
Her gasp is delicious.
I smile and brush my thumb over her lips.
She bites me.
Pulling back in mock outrage, I hiss and lick the pain away.
She watches hungrily.
“Are you the kind of man to leave his wife waiting?” She grits out, frustrated.
I smile and then place my hand back on her midsection. Beneath it, I feel the first flicker of a heartbeat. It’s as if a switch is flipped under my skin, unlocking some primal part of me I had never seen.
This woman holds our child.
I have sacrificed much for us to be together, and so had she, but this ultimate sign of commitment lights something tender and primal. My sense flies away to some unknown place as I use one knee to push open one of her legs, taking time to enjoy the glistening readiness that is awaiting me for a second before pushing myself forward, lining up our bodies, and sinking in.
Estela moans and grips my sustaining hand with the tips of her fingers.
She presses her feet into the bed, meeting the angle of my hips stroke for stroke, connecting our bodies and hearts with each moment.
When I claim her lips seconds before we come, I pull her on top of me. She looks tired, but she gives me a frustrated look. With her hands now free, they slide over my biceps as her braid curls around her shoulder and breast.
”Why did you stop?” she asks irritatedly.
I smile. “Because I am not in a hurry.”
She moves her hips to show her displeasure, and I reach up to grab her braid, twisting it around my hand. She stills as I hold tight. Then she begins to move once more, and I can feel the way that she pleasurably aches at the new angle. The gem in her chest glows brightly, and a flicker of fear passes.
”Don’t stop,” I coax her on. As the magic between us builds, it is a symphony. We harmonize every melody, and I curve my hips upwards the second she gets closer.
Her back arches, and she cries out seconds before I find my release tumbling after hers.
”I love you,” I whisper as she collapses atop me. Her skin is flushed and soft.
“Te amo?1,” she returns.
Grabbing her mouth once more, I press another passionate kiss to her lips.
And then we fall into each other, resting and waiting for the next moment to come. I won’t admit it aloud, but it brings me great pleasure when she doesn”t move to put on her clothes once again.
I would have her skin on mine every day until the end if allowed.
“Teo, what did you give up to save us?” Her hand is on her stomach, and I stroke her shoulder.
“Not much. Honestly, I got the better end of the deal,” I say.
She looks up at me. “I don’t believe that.”
I brush a kiss to her forehead. “Believe it.”
When she continues to stare at me, I sigh. “I gave back the ability to control the volcano.”
She freezes, and her heart rate picks up in a way that has nothing to do with passion.
“Why did you do that? We are defenseless without it.” Her words are fast and tumble past her lips.
I shake my head. “I still have magic. I still feel the earth rumble beneath me, as you can, too, now that we are so connected. Besides, even if I had none of that… I have you. You are the Daughter of the Light Weavers. Drathorinna’s rider. The next wise woman. We have more than enough.”
She looks up at me, wide eyed. “I… I am glad I have you.”
I press another kiss to her lips, feeling as she eases back into our bond. There is a beauty in a partner that I never knew before her. Alone, we each had our own plans and schemes, but together we are greater than the sum of our parts.
Thank the gods for my beloved.
I smile.
“Besides, even if I don’t have the same power, I feel… lighter. Happier. And nothing can stop me from insinuating that the power still is nestled within me.” Then I place my hand on hers. “And who’s to say our child will not have the same power?”
I feel her consider this, and then, when she accepts the idea, she snuggles closer.
“Tell me what you think our child will be like,” she asks softly.
I smile wide enough for my face to hurt.
“Strong, stubborn, and incredibly well proportioned. None of the other younglings will have a chance.”
She laughs, and I notice a tear sneak out of the corner of her eye. I wipe it away, and she catches my hand.
“I hope you know that this is from happiness, not pain,” she says solemnly.
“Believe me, I know.”