Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
He managed to ascertain he still had his weight in his forearm, but that was it.
He could not move.
Which was fine, for he did not want to.
“That was a terrible trick, but I could not wait any longer.”
Farah’s words made him move.
He lifted his head to gaze down at her in confusion.
“Pardon?”
“Sitting on our bed in the nude in hopes of seducing you,” she explained.
He nearly burst out laughing.
In his effort to contain this, his body started shaking violently, so much, his cock almost lost its place.
He liked where his cock was, therefore, he got a handle on himself.
“I do not believe I’ve complained,” he pointed out.
“I should have had a conversation with you. But you’ve been very busy. So distracted. I thought when the sling was gone, we would…and then we didn’t. For days. And it was meetings. And you going to Crittich Keep. And visiting with Alfie. And behind closed doors with Bram and Wally and Florian and Luther. And—”
As she spoke, he realized how agitated she was.
And as she spoke, and his cock slid out, losing the heat of her, he saw the vines that had overtaken the bed retreat.
“We created a garden,” he noted, cutting off her words.
“I…sorry?”
“Your magic, my world,” he said, shifting his eyes to the side.
She turned her head just in time to watch two vines of ivy slink away.
“Oh,” she breathed.
He looked to her and grinned at her when she turned again to him.
He then sobered.
“I have been derelict in my duties to my wife,” he declared.
She moved a hand from his back to lay it on his cheek, murmuring, “True. It isn’t that. It’s—”
“A dereliction of duties to my wife,” he somewhat repeated. “I did not sense you were ready.”
“The best way for you to know I was ready was for me to tell you, not trick you into making love to me by essentially throwing myself at you.”
“Farah, please rest assured, and I wish you to take this in and know it completely, I am quite all right with you meeting us in our bedchamber, your beauty openly exposed for me, every night for the rest of our lives.”
She stared up at him.
Then she dissolved in laughter.
True again grinned down at her.
“Though next time,” he said through her amusement, “know you have my permission to actually throw yourself at me, rather than waiting for me to come to you.”
She kept laughing and did it harder.
True kept smiling at her.
She got hold of herself (mostly) and then moved her other hand so she could frame his face in both.
When she had a hold on him, she declared, “We are husband and wife.”
They were.
Thank the gods.
He felt his body settle further into hers.
“Yes, darling,” he agreed.
“I am truly yours,” she said.
His voice was thick at knowing what this meant to him, hearing what it meant to her, when he replied, “Yes.”
“And you are mine.”
“Yes, Farah.”
The tears sprang to her eyes.
“None of that,” he whispered, shifting his own hand to her face in order to rub the pad of his thumb along her cheek.
“They are happy tears.”
“All right. Then I’ll allow it,” he muttered.
She gave him a watery smile.
And then she gave him the new meaning to his life.
“It will all be much. Too much. Who you are. What you must give to your people. Overwhelming. Onerous. Sometimes monotonous. Also, frustrating. I know there will be victories. Successes. Advancements. Celebrations. But I practically grew up in Catrame Palace. I know what the duty you face is. I saw Ares assume that mantle every day, and he was a great king, but he was also human. I could not miss sometimes he did it with reservations, or fatigue. But here, True…”
She explained “here” by again wrapping her arms about him, her legs tensing where they were still curled around his thighs.
“Here, for both of us, is sanctuary,” she finished.
Sanctuary.
Gods, just the word from her lips in their bed, her body beneath his, made him feel he was there.
Thus, yes.
She was right.
This was sanctuary.
“I will listen,” she said. “If you wish it, I will give my advice. If you must rail, I will keep quiet and be your sounding board, allowing you to release it. If you must fume, I will give you nothing but patience and my ear. But this,” she squeezed him again, “is where you come, and know you are understood. You know you have unwavering support. You know it is yours, it is ours. And that is all. The world does not enter here. It is just you and me. It is us.”
He felt his throat close and he feared his eyes, too, were growing wet.
He loved her.
He could not do this without her. Not navigating the loss of his mother. Not the taking of the throne. Not dealing with Alfie. Not living the rest of the days of his life.