AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But deep down, I knew Em was right. They'd be fine.
I took a sip of hot coffee, sighing at the perfect blend of bitterness, cream, and sweetness, and propped my feet up on the coffee table. If he saw me, Wynvail would turn over in his grave. If he’d had one, and Cronus hadn't turned him to dust. Misery churned in my chest; I took another drink because everyone knew coffee solved everything.
"Come here," Em murmured, his blue eyes gentle on me as he stretched out his arm, showcasing a perfect spot for me against his side.
I took little convincing, and crossed the cosy room to snuggle into that spot. Em's warmth bled into me, offering instant comfort, and the touch was especially reassuring. I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder.
I'd missed this so much—lazy mornings, full of soft words, long hugs, coffee, and homemade breakfast. My eyes burned, but I pressed my face into his neck so his libraries and leather scent filled all my senses, fighting off the emotion.
Em was content to not speak, my quiet mate an introvert through and through. Just spending time in the same space, our breathing synced, our bodies pressed close, was his ultimate love language.2
"I'm worried about you, Em," I said after long minutes of comfortable silence, my cup now empty except for cold dregs and Emlyn tracing soft patterns on my bare thigh. I was still in the shirt I'd stolen from him, and I didn't miss the flash of male satisfaction when he first realised what I was wearing.
"Me?" he asked in a low voice—the gravelly softness of early mornings and late nights.
I set my cup on the low table and tilted my head so I could look at my mate. "When you're struggling, you keep all your thoughts locked up. Harvey will get into fights when he's stressed, Kai explodes into rants and yelling, Wane's getting better at talking about what's bothering him, but you Em? You try to deal with everything yourself so it can't touch us."
He ducked his head, his big chest heaving with a sigh. I couldn't help but notice his shirt clung to every delicious curve of his body.3
"I don't want to worry you," Emlyn said, meeting my gaze with a mix of apology and unyielding stubbornness. "You're all going through enough without me—"
"Having a mental breakdown because you kept everything bottled up? I agree."
He exhaled a laugh of pure exasperation, rubbing his hand over his salt-and-pepper beard. "It's not natural for me, Hales."
"I know," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, his skin heated through the thin cotton. "But you won't hurt me by telling me what you're struggling with. You'll hurt me by locking me out."
His throat bobbed, his hand returning to tracing my thigh. A giant crash came from upstairs; I dreaded to think about what those bastards had done to my lovingly created weapons room.
"You've confided in me before," I pointed out. Many times. He just preferred not to, protective to a fault.
"That was different," he said, giving me a long, searching look. "That was before the tunnels and the fighting pit and the Labyrinth. Before you were in debilitating pain over losing your mate."
"It's not debilitating," I said quietly, curling my hands around the vial pendant I hadn't taken off since Wane helped me make it. "It was rough when we first got here, but I'm getting better."
I could get out of bed now, and eat, and talk, not just stare into space with dead eyes, picturing Wynvail being unmade. That was progress.
"Hales," Em breathed, squeezing my thigh, his fingers hot against bare skin. "You're not okay."
"No," I agreed begrudgingly. "I don't think any of us are."
"As long as you're beside me, I'll be fine," Emlyn promised, blue eyes pleading with me to drop it.
Naturally, I didn't.
I swung my leg over his and settled myself on his lap.
"Stubborn, thoughtful, infuriating man," I huffed, taking his face in my hands, my palms tingling at the brush of his beard. It was softer than when we lived at the palace.4
Emlyn’s lips flicked up on one side, and I saw defeat in his eyes, twinned with amusement. "Must you always win, Hales?"
"Yes," I said, and dropped a kiss on his lips, lingering longer than I intended. "I must. Now talk to me, Emlyn."
He leant back against the sofa with a deep sigh, his hands rising to my hips. It was so damn hard not to writhe against him.5
Em’s tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip and he gave me a reluctant glance before he asked, "Everyone we knew is dead, aren't they?"
My shoulders sank, ice water dumped on my desire. I rubbed my thumb over his cheek in slow passes. "Yeah. They're gone."
