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Her muscles closed around me, unable to fight her moans and sighs of ecstasy, forcing me to my peak.
Orgasms synchronizing, holding her into me as the bliss reached its summit, exploding, the rest of the room blurred to darkness. She was all I saw. Those beautiful eyes, vibrant verdant, stuck on mine in the mirror.
When the highest point of ecstasy drifted downward, peace settling, she whispered through heavy breaths, “Mi riamh lorg dhuine mar sin foirfe.”I’ve never found a man so perfect.
I laughed quietly, snaking my arms around her waist. I hadn’t been sure if she remembered, but I supposed she had.
The first time we’d made love, we’d spoken those words to one another.
* * *
Crashing onto the blankets in an orgasm induced haze, I tucked my arm around Véa’s waist and hauled her into me, smiling at the dark ceiling. “This is nice,” I said.
Véa laughed. “When was the last time we fucked in a bed?”
“The last time we fucked in this one.”
It just hadn’t been feasible with all the babies in our room. We found the time—usually sneaking off to the next room in the dead of night, occasionally over the kitchen counter while they were playing in the living room. The latter hadn’t always ended well for either of us. We were usually rushing to yank our clothes back into place when one of the little ones came bolting to the door.
“I do love a good fuck in a new place, but beds are underrated.”
“Well, looks like we’ll have plenty of opportunity to lie in one now.” I hauled her chest against my own, rolling to face her. Thumbing her blushing cheeks, my lips spread into a smile. “I can’t believe we’re home.”
“I can’t believe everything’s alright.” She stroked my face, cupping my jaw and thumbing my bottom lip. “It feels too easy, doesn’t it?”
“It felt too easy when we walked into the Conclave Hall and declared ourselves the king and queen, but it hadn’t been,” I said. “People have a habit of preparing for the worst. When we let ourselves get to that point, imagining every awful scenario that could possibly occur, living that way for as long as we have, as long as we had then, it makes sense that it’d feel too easy, doesn’t it? We were living on a cliff side. We’ve gotta give ourselves some time to adjust to the stable ground.”
Her shoulders loosened with a deep breath. She smiled, nodding. “I suppose.” Her smile faltered then. “Were they alright? The boys?”
“I don’t think theyadoretheir cells, but none of them were injured. Michael looked as bold and confident as he always does. Gabriel wouldn’t speak to any of us.”
“Are the cells in a bad way?” she asked. “Is it… It isn’t squaller, is it?”
“There aren’t any rats running around, if that’s what you mean. It’s clean, and they have a window. They can hear neighboring cellmates through the walls, so they aren’t in solitude, really. There were books stacked everywhere, so they have some entertainment.”
“Would Gabriel be allowed a guitar?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. “He was never much of a reader.”
Gazing into those warm, gentle green eyes, my heart swelled, comfort starting in the center and travelling outward in every direction. It was a simple thing, really, but it meant everything. She loved those boys. Even if they thought we were fools, even if they called her a whore, even if they hated us, even if they wanted us dead, she loved them enough to care that they had some source of joy in their prison.
“I’m sure we can work something out, do gràs.” I found her fingers on the bed, twined them with mine, and brought her knuckles to my lips. “They aren’t in harm’s way. They’re safe. Bitter, and pissed, but safe.”
She gave a slight nod, growing quiet for a moment. “Do you remember how badly Gabriel hated being in time out when he was a baby?”
I laughed. “Stella had to cast a perimeter spell around him to keep him in the corner.”
“And the wee shite would break it.” A smile tilted at the corners of her lips, stretching into her eyes. Gradually, water filled them. Her lower lip quivered, and she sniffled. “I hate this.”
Seeing the tears bud in her gaze, they formed in my own.
Since the day this all began, she hadn’t cried. Just that once when she heard about Morduaine and Matriaza. Not once in my presence had she cried over Venark and Hana. Maybe she had when I wasn’t around, but I hadn’t seen it.
Véa had this impeccable ability to construct a wall around herself. It was a fascinating build, because all it managed to block out was pain. She still had access to the information and every other emotion that brought with it, but not the pain. She didn’t need to forget something had happened to protect herself from it.
We were opposite in that way. To avoid pain, I had to numb it into nothingness, either with pretty flowers that produced euphoria or a drink. I hadn’t done that in a long time, but that was how I’d coped before. Truthfully, in the last year, I hadn’t done much coping. I distracted myself with the children, I distracted myself with training for battle, but when I was alone, I sulked over my dead father and sister. I cried in fear of losing my wife and children. I managed through forcing my toddlers to wield a sword and recite spells.
But Véa needed her ability to think. She had to analyze, just as she had the day Hana and Venark died. She played out every possibility and developed the best course of action, one that’d kept us protected for over a year now. She completely blocked the grueling reality ofher dead brother from her mind. Since he was gone, she hadn’t so much as uttered his name.
I didn’t know which method was better, but that wall had a crack in it now. I didn’t know if I should mend it or help her maintain the pain that dripped through.
