Chapter 39 #2
“Bardanes even let us take the body. We burned it, as we do with family upon death. And that was that. I mourned, in so much as I am capable of mourning.”
“And now? You think he’s back from the dead?” She finally turned to him, curious.
“No. I think perhaps he never died.”
“But…you saw—“
“I know what I saw, but faking his death is far more plausible than him coming back to life. And he’s certainly not a ghost. Ghosts don’t have scents.”
“Oh…” She exhaled, but finally nodded. He reached for his hot chocolate and took a sip. A hum of satisfaction rumbled his chest. It was good. And to think, he’d made it all on his own.
He’d never cared much for the drink, not until Lily, anyway. Everything was different with her. Everything was better.
She took a deeper sip and a bit of whipped cream dotted the tip of her nose. He waited for her to notice it as she set her mug down. She didn’t, staring contemplatively into its depths.
“You’ve got…” He tilted her face toward his and leaned in, flicking his tongue across her nose. She giggled, but didn’t pull away. The sound twisted something low in his belly. He liked that sound—very much.
He found her lips next, kissing her, tasting the chocolate in her mouth. It made him groan. The knots of tension in his shoulders finally began to ease. Her scent began to change and with it, his desperation grew.
Leashing himself, he pulled back, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. She huffed against his mouth then returned to her hot chocolate. His sat forgotten.
He fussed over her, trying for patience as she sipped her drink, cradling the mug between her palms. His fingers found her hair, trailing through it, then ran down her back before squeezing her thigh. He touched whatever parts of her he could reach.
“Thank you,” he said, surprising her—surprising even himself.
“For what?” She drained her mug and set it down to look at him.
“For listening to me talk about Lio.”
“That isn’t something you need to thank me for. Ever. I’ll always listen, Laurent, no matter what it is.”
He swallowed, his eyes searching hers. It struck him then, like a crushing pressure against his chest, how incredible she was. Not simply in her own right, because yes, she was incredible for so many reasons. No, it struck him because of what she did to him.
When he was with her, the world was forgotten and things felt better. She made him feel so much, breathed so much life into him. When was the last time he’d lamented the long years of his existence? When was the last time he’d slapped an expiration date on the time he had left?
His father had gone insane in his final years. He’d expected the same for himself. He’d waited for it with dread. But with Lily, he felt more sane than ever.
He’d set out to save her from darkness, darkness he’d been responsible for. With every small win, he’d rejoiced, helping her heal after what the witches had done. All this time, she’d been doing the same for him.
He didn’t deserve any of it—her healing touch, her forgiveness, her goodness, her smiles.
Didn’t deserve to feel alive, not when his reckless actions had nearly cost her her life.
He especially didn’t deserve to love her, to feel such a deep emotion for a woman he’d hurt.
But he wanted to love her. Fuck, he really wanted to.
Was that why he’d refused to give her an answer? Why he refused to try? Maybe it wasn’t because he was afraid to fail, though he’d believed that reason enough. Discovering himself incapable of love wouldn’t exactly be shocking.
Maybe it was because deep down, he already knew the truth. Fuck—he loved her. He loved her completely. This pure, wondrous creature had crawled inside him and wrapped herself around his heart. Why was it so hard to simply admit that?
“Laurent?” Lily’s hand cupped his cheek. He blinked. “Are you okay? I lost you there for a sec.”
“I—“ He croaked.
She captured her bottom lip between her teeth. “Come on,” she said, her voice soft. “Let’s go up to bed.”
He could only stare at her, stunned, as she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He followed in her wake like a lovesick puppy, clinging to her hand. What was happening to him?
At the sound of their bedroom door closing behind them, he blinked. The haze cleared. Lily stood before him in her wispy lavender gown. He reached for her, pulling her against him. “Lily,” he breathed. The only word he could seem to form. But that one word—her name—was everything.
Their movements turned hungry, hands against skin, clothes tugged free and tossed away, mouths roving, tongues clashing.
He breathed her in, overcome by her vanilla and floral scent.
When he laid her down upon the sheets of their bed, his eyes snagged on the brand at her hip. He froze, staring at it.
“Laurie, it’s all right.” But he couldn’t seem to look away. “Laurie, please.” Lily’s hands found his face, guiding him toward her.
What had he done to her? Using her as bait—
“It’s all right,” she breathed against his lips, as if reading his thoughts.
“The idea of hurting you makes me sick,” he blurted, ashamed.
She allowed him to feel shame, an emotion that was rare and almost impossible to come by. An emotion that most people cowered from, and yet it was an emotion. Her existence gave him the capacity to feel it. That alone made it beautiful.
“I never…” She cleared her throat, staring at him.
Something moved in the depths of her gaze.
“I never thought I’d forgive you for what happened,” she admitted.
“But I do. I don’t like that every time you see the brand, you stare at it with this look of utter self loathing, like you want to punish yourself.
Laurie, I forgive you for what happened.
It’s in the past. I’ve moved on. You helped me move on. ”
The words hit him like a sledgehammer, stealing his breath.
He crumbled in on himself, utterly shocked.
This woman. She brought him to his knees, quite literally.
He found himself in that position, bowed over on the bed, his body curled inward, looking upon her, this magnificent creature.
He didn’t deserve her forgiveness and she shouldn’t offer it so freely.
She scrambled up, putting her face level with his. “Laurie, my forgiveness belongs to me. I’m allowed to give it if I choose. But it is your choice whether you accept it or not. I cannot do that for you.”
“How do you know that’s what I’m thinking?”
How the hell did she know?!
A small smile tugged at her lips. “I used to think you were unfeeling and expressionless, but I’ve come to know the subtle movements of your face.
” She placed her hands on his cheeks, holding him hostage.
His eyes fluttered closed, savoring her touch.
It was what he needed most, especially right now.
He was terrified to admit just how badly.
He’d spent the last month desperate to touch her, imagining all the ways he would.
Now, all he wanted was for her hands to piece him back together.
“Touch me,” he begged, caring little how pathetically vulnerable those words sounded.
“Please, Lily. Touch me.” She didn’t seem to care either.
She repositioned herself onto her knees to match him, facing him.
Then she began to run her hands over his body.
Something deep in his chest cracked wide open, flooding him with a feeling he’d never experienced before—complete and utter surrender.