40. Violette
VIOLETTE
Levi’s warm chest rises and falls in a mesmerizing rhythm that lures my palm to the center of his chest. My mind distantly wanders to the note that appeared out of thin air in Caerwynath all those years ago, and how it mentioned that the love I longed for would one day find me.
Is this who they meant?
The fact he is my soulbound guarantees nothing—as my parents have proved.
My heart nearly leaps out of its cage when his large, tattooed hand shifts from his abdomen to lie atop mine. His other arm effortlessly drags me closer, against his side. Something inside me instantly melts.
Despite the potion I’d dosed him with, and knowing there’s no possible way I could have woken him up, my eyes leap to his closed ones.
After a few heart-thundering moments, I convince myself that he’s deep asleep and will never witness this weak, vulnerable moment where I’m holding onto him like my sanity depends on it.
With my hand sandwiched between his heart and his hand, I inch even closer until my leg is draped over his and my core is pressed wet against his thigh.
I’m unable to deny myself this guilty pleasure, no matter how many alarm bells go off in my mind, screaming for me to abandon him to Terrenea and save my heart before he breaks it.
I’ve never been held by a male in such a way since Lucen. A fact that I resent. The sheer tenderness of being touched like this is enough to make me shatter.
How sad is it that such a small, inconsequential gesture can have such an overwhelming effect on me?
Tears brimming, my mind conjures all the things that could be.
All the affection I’ve been denied, and forbidden myself over the years.
How wonderful it would be to be held in his arms, to have his gaze wash over me not merely with lust but with love and adoration. Reverence even.
What might it feel like to be cherished and protected?
The fact that I’m more than capable of protecting myself, and have spent my entire adolescence and adulthood doing so, is irrelevant.
Squeezing my eyes shut, tears stream down my cheeks as I draw in a quiet, trembling breath.
These are dangerous, addictive thoughts, Violette.
My mother no doubt longed for the same fantasy. Which is exactly what it is. Fantasy. The stuff of lore, an angry voice inside me scolds.
Since Lucen, I’ve yet to meet a male whose touch I truly desired. Now that I’ve found one, I can’t fathom being without it.
Without him.
Thoughts of his mortality, his potential betrayal, and the irrational thought my father might find him and use him against me are already long gone—ash on the wind beneath the heat of his touch.
The tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump of his heart is a sound I find more soothing than the sea.
Just a few minutes like this, masked in shadow and the twilight of morning.