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"Always is a long time," she told him, told herself.
"It's all the time we have." His voice was growing thick with tiredness.
"And you would give me all of your time?"
"This relationship is beginning to feel rather one-sided," he muttered as he nuzzled the top of her head. "I'm giving you many promises of fealty and affection, and receiving nothing in return. I'm starting to feel unassured."
Cera laughed at the absurdity of what he was saying, even as her heart ached to respond in kind. She wanted badly to give him those words, to tell him the depth of her feelings for him, and how they were growing deeper with each moment that passed between them.
But the idea of saying such things to him made her feel horrendously vulnerable, more so than anything they'd done in the bed, more so than anything she'd yet experienced. If she went too far, said too much, and then he pulled away, it would be too awful for her to bear.
Again, he seemed to lift the thoughts from her mind as he said, "I'm in no hurry." He pressed a kiss to her head. "I'll wait for you, for as long as it takes."
Epilogue
Isael was enchanted.
The world beyond the bed still existed, but at the moment, it was unnecessary. Later, they would need to rise from the bed, clean themselves, and put on clothes to shield their skin in place of blankets.
It was no trouble for him to conjure water to drink, but he couldn’t manifest a breakfast tray. Eating was another reason they would have to leave the bed, though at the moment, hunger wasn’t pressing.
There were also his people to rule, but he felt little sense of obligation as he considered the elves and Esryia.
How could a mereobligationstand beneath the weight of animperative?
The imperative was tracing his chest.
The first time he’d touched her hands, they’d struck him as impossibly soft. He’d wondered how such delicate skin could take on the monumental task of binding her muscles, bones, and blood together.
Now that he’d been inside of her, he had a new understanding of softness. He hadn’t known that skin could feel softer than silk, and while being wet and warm. Or that it could wrap around him like a vice, while still yielding to each of his thrusts. He would have never guessed that such a tight, virginal passage could not only open to fully accommodate him, butfithim.
Perfectly.
Cera looked up at him, and their eyes locked. Her hand stilled.
While Isael basked in a heretofore unknown level of comfort and satiation, she was still uneasy. How much of that was because of her inexperience with intimacy? He couldn’t say. In the darkness, her eyes were deep pools that drew him in. As he bathed in her regard, his facade grew saturated and heavy.
How long until she wore it down, or he simply cast it off in a fit of rage?
He covered her hand with his and ran the pad of his thumb along the gentle slopes of her knuckles.
“Don’t stop,” he told her, before guiding her hand along the grooves of his muscles.
After a moment, he released her. He enjoyed watching her explore his body, even if her touch was light and restrained in its range. It was obvious she wanted to go lower. The hard lines that bracketed his pelvis were her favorite to trace, though she stopped short of slipping her hand beneath the blanket.
“Should we do it again?” She asked. She had turned away, her eyes on the bulge in the covers.
Isael was tempted.
He could have had her again moments after he’d climaxed. Only the smell of her blood had cooled his ardor. It was still in the air now, mingling with the scents of perspiration and other bodily fluids.
The scent of her blood had a paradoxical effect on him. His mouth watered for a taste, while his gut twisted with revulsion.
“We should,” Isael said, his words weighted, as if he’d taken too much wine.
As if he were under the heaviest of enchantments.
He continued, “Every night, and in the mornings, as well. But you should rest now.”
