Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Leaning forward, she clasped her hands. Her fitted jeans and cute pink jumper made her look younger than she was, but her blue eyes spoke of hardship and wisdom, flashing with inner strength. “If you ever need to talk about what happened. About what he did and—”
“I’m fine.” I shook my head. “Truly.”
She nodded. “I won’t overstep but I will give you one piece of advice.”
“Okay…” I glanced at Henri’s face.
Was it my imagination or were his brows knitted. His eyes flickered beneath his closed lids. His black lashes shivering with dreams or…waking up?
Hope—that annoying emotion that’d tortured me so badly in Joyero—sparked.
I clung to his hand, my heart skipping as his fingers flinched in mine.
A waterfall of relief chased away the last of my worries.
I sagged over the bed and grinned. “He’s waking.”
Tess glanced at Henri and smiled. He groaned and rolled his head. “So he is.” Standing, she shoved her hands into her back pockets. “In that case, I’ll leave you to say hello in private.”
“What did you want to say?”
Heading toward the door, she turned back and smiled. “Only that I’m here if you ever want to vent. Loving a Mercer? It’s not easy. They’re stubborn and proud and have a darkness that I doubt will ever go away, but…they’re also loyal to a fault and love with all their hearts.”
I brought Henri’s knuckles to my lips and kissed him.
“Oh, I know.” I had the absolute privilege of saying that. I know. I know him. He’s a part of me. I know. It felt as if I’d been let into a private, perfect club. One where no one else got to know the true souls of these brothers. No one else was lucky enough to be loved by them.
“In that case, I’ll see you soon.” She winked. “You know…I’ve always wanted a sister.”
She left.
Henri opened his eyes.
And every day that we’d suffered, struggled, and fought to stay alive by playing Victor’s horrible games, fighting fate, sharing lust and temptation, cheating death and merging our souls into one vanished beneath the only truth that mattered.
We’d survived.
We hadn’t destroyed one another, we’d won.
And this was just our beginning.
“Hello,” I whispered, shifting closer to kiss him.
He groaned again, slowly taking stock of his surroundings.
For a second, his face twisted in hate and pain, then smoothed out in surprise. “I…how did I get here?”
“How do you think?” I grinned, my happiness bubbling over and unable to be contained.
“That meddling brother of mine?”
“The one and only.”
His body remembered how to move as he shifted gingerly. His bandaged arm came up. He cupped my cheek ever so softly. “Hi.”
Tears glossed and rolled down my cheeks. “Bonjour.” I kissed him again.
Our tongues touched, our breath caught, and salt from my tears laced our lips. Henri shivered as I pulled away. His smoky eyes caught mine. His face held true awe and affection as he tugged me down to kiss me deeper.
Only once he’d licked away my tears did he press his nose to mine and whisper, “I’ve always loved the taste of your tears. I’ve drunk your fear and your grief but these tears.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “They taste the best.”
I smiled and knew what he was going to say.
I felt it in my heart.
Our unique connection flared bright.
“Because you’ve finally tasted my happiness instead of sadness?”
He flinched then arched higher against the pillows. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. You knowing me better than I know myself.”
“You will. Because we’re going to share a lifetime.”
Gathering me against him, he yanked me onto the bed and inched over to make room. He winced a little as I brushed up against his leg—the leg where a bullet had been festering and I’d watched it be pulled out—and then he kissed me again.
And we didn’t stop for anything.
Chapter Thirty-Four
………………………….
Henri
“THIS REMINDS ME OF OUR walks on the island,” Ily murmured.
I glanced at her beside me. Bundled up in a thick black jacket that dropped to her calves, a pom-pom hat and homemade red scarf that my brother’s elderly cook, Mrs Sucre, had knitted, I tripped as a punch of undiluted happiness stole my air.
Fuck.
If I didn’t have the ache in my thigh from being shot, the tightness in my back from being whipped, and the scabs from a dog attack on my arm, I might believe I’d died after all.
For the first week after I’d woken, I struggled to sleep thanks to the fear that I’d been sent to some sort of teasing purgatory. A place that delivered all your heart’s desires only to rip them away because you weren’t worthy of them.
Those fears had faded the stronger I’d become. My bitten arm grew itchy as it healed, my other arm slowly stopped aching, and my leg no longer buckled when I’d slipped from the blankets and joined Ily on the chairs by the window.