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“My home was never a happy place, or a safe one,” I whispered, beginning the story of a broken girl, from a broken home, who made choices that only led her into a more broken life.
But when that story ended, a magical one started—one of fae who were kind and gentle, despite their beastliness. And one of a family I chose, who chose me back.
That story didn’t end—not even when the next one began.
The love story that I would repeat for anyone who would listen… and for the children that Remmo and I eventually decided to have.
They would never grow up in a broken home like mine.
They would know what it was to be loved by so many people.
The same way I did, after coming to Vevol.
Twenty
Remmo
My Iloli wasright about me needing to hit something after hearing her story. My brothers needed the practice anyway, though.
She watched on, anxiously at first, but she pushed through the stress until she could watch with a different set of eyes.
A warrior’s eyes.
And afterward, not only was she more confident in my ability to protect herself, but she was asking me questions about the moves. Asking me to teach her more. To continue training her.
I’d never agreed to anything as rapidly as I did that.
Because whether she knew it or not, Summer was already a warrior. She had been for a long, long time. And whatever our future held, it would be nothing like her past.
I’d fill our house with love—and cake—and anything else I could possibly think of to prove to her, day after day, that I loved her. That I’d care for her.
That I was hers, and she was mine.
“You’re thinking too hard,” she teased me, as we walked toward the river so I could scrub the blood from my skin. Though her voice was playful, there was still vulnerability in her eyes. She worried that I saw her differently now that I knew what she’d survived.
And I did; but not in the way she thought.
Now, I understood her strength more than I ever could’ve before.
“Part of me is,” I agreed, dragging our intertwined hands to my erection and pressing the back of her hand against it.
She laughed, and the way her happiness lit up her eyes filled me with pride.
I was so damn proud of her. Proud of her for surviving the hell she had been through, and for remaining strong in the face of all of it.
Had I known all that she’d lived through, I would never have pushed her to continue trying in those moments of panic during the time we’d spent training in our den. But despite my yearning to protect her, I was still proud of her. Maybe even more-so because of the way she’d pushed through it all, and come out stronger.
“Bet I can fix that,” she said playfully.
“Think so?” I dragged her into my arms, then jumped into the river. She spat out water and was laughing hard when we surfaced.
“Bastard,” she teased me, as I held her in my arms and grinned at her.
My mate.
My Iloli.
My everything.
