Page 157 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘I love you,’ he said against her ear. ‘It terrifies me how much I love you.’

She straddled his hips, sinking into the perfect heat between them. It wasn’t enough – this closeness. Even in her exhaustion, she wanted more. She always wanted more. He kissed her again, and she opened for him. She grew bolder, needier, hands tangling in his damp black hair, her hips moving feverishly, seeking friction.

He gave it to her, and more, the bubbles kissing their skin as they lost themselves in each other.

Afterwards, he washed her hair, those large callused hands scrubbing with such gentleness it made her heart swell. He was careful, meticulous, and as she lay back against the tub, letting him work his way down her tired body, she wished she could stretch this moment around them like a bubble and live in it for ever.

He massaged her hands, kneading her fingers, then kissing them, one by one, like he was reminding himself how precious she was. Lifting her onto the edge of the tub, he moved to her legs, tracing his lips across every scouring thorn, and laving away the pain. He worked his way higher, pressing kisses to the insides of her thighs, and then the soft core of her pleasure. She threaded a hand through his hair, her lids lazy as she watched him. Bliss poured from her in a languid groan, and he smiled against her, drinking it down.

How worshipped she felt. Treasured beyond reason, and lucky. So lucky it hurt. She knew once morning came, they would have to return to the world and face the stark truth about Andreas… and what was yet to come.

But for now, couldn’t it just be this heady lavender bliss and the man she loved using his scarred hands to worship her?

She crawled to him once more, settling in the cradle of his arms. He hugged her to his chest, resting his chin on the crown of her head as they watched the sky pale through the window.

‘The sun will be up soon,’ she said.

‘My sun’s already risen,’ he murmured into her hair.

Smiling as she closed her eyes, she ignored the deepening pain in her chest, and the tick-ticking of her pulse, as though a clock somewhere was running out.

Part IV

For spring to bloom anew, even the wildflowers must wither and die.

Birds fall weary from the sky, while fledglings leap, hopeful, from their nests.

Great change dawns, not through rage and war and clashing swords,

But in the quiet surrendering to fate.

MAUD ARANDEL SAINT OF LOST HOPE

Chapter 45 Seraphine

Sera woke to a howl of laughter. It was late morning, and she was alone in bed, listening to a commotion in the back garden. By the sound of it, Caruso was up. Her magic was awake too, and curious about its newest making. Had last night been a grave mistake or a stroke of divine luck?

She was sluggish getting dressed, and breathless from the new pain in her chest. Ignoring her aching body, she made her way downstairs. When she arrived in the back garden, a small crowd had gathered around Nadia and Caruso, who appeared to be having an argument.

All the rose bushes were dead.

Or rather, decapitated.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the source of their destruction, since Caruso was casually swinging a giant sword around. That, and Nadia was shouting at him. ‘Destructive brute! Do you know how long those took me?’

‘Relax, green fingers. Just make more.’

Nadia snatched up a rose and fired it at his face.

He chewed up the petals and spat them out, laughing.

Slipping into the gap between Paola and Val, who were watching the exchange with rapt attention, Sera asked, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Battle of the saints.’ Val pointed to Tobias who was skulking under a nearby tree. ‘He’s the one who took the heads off the roses. Caruso wanted to see how many petals he could slice off before they hit the ground, so he got Tobias to toss them up in the air.’

That explained the carpet of petals. And the withering look on Nadia’s face.

‘What’s with the sword?’ asked Paola.