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Rochelle dropped herself forward, her head over his and their lips touching. “Lose control,” she whispered. “I need it. I need to feel it.”
Their tongues met in a frenzied tangle that obscured her sense of when he flipped them back over, but her legs hung over his hips and his arms were wedged beneath her shoulders. She wasn’t exactly flat on the bed, and when he thrust inside again, she saw stars. Her vision was pure white in seconds as he did as she asked and pounded into her, lips and teeth everywhere else. Like exclamation points on euphoria.
She only lasted seconds.
Aric’s kisses had gentled when she came back to her senses, her body properly lowered to the bed and his arms on either side of her. He peppered light, almost teasing, kisses over her cheeks and finally dropped one on her nose before meeting her gaze. “Feel better?”
She laughed, the sound a little raspy from the scream she vaguely remembered having let loose moments or minutes earlier. “It was a very good start.” She trailed her fingers over his bared shoulder. “Did you—”
He snorted. “Of course.” He rolled them onto their sides carefully and hooked his arms around her. “I think I want to bronze this dress. But it’s time I took it off you.”
Rochelle dropped her forehead to his shoulder as a short round of laughter rolled through her. She could feel his semi-hard length against her abdomen and she knew, in another minute or so, she’d be ready for more. She just wasn’t so sure about the bronzing. She kept that to herself, composed herself, and dropped a kiss to his cheek before sliding from his arms. “I’ll take this off, if you’ll finish stripping yourself. That’s only fair.” Though it was sort of fun that they’d gotten so wrapped up in the moment inside their own home.
She paused at the thought.
For so long, the Vardanyan Estate had been Aric’s home. It had been a place where she was staying, and welcome, and comfortable—but when had she appliedthatword? When was the last time she’d considered anywherehome?
An old memory of Bridget’s easy smile lingered for a moment in front of her mind’s eye before fading once more. Bridget had been, in so many ways, the closest she’d had to a home for a long time. Until she’d fallen in love with Aric. It was strange, and silly, to feel more surprised at the sensation of belonging than the warmth of love, but she definitely didn’t think she’d connected the two before.
“Rochelle?”
She pushed out a breath and used a touch of magic to slide the disheveled dress off her body. “It’s nothing,” she said, turning to offer him a smile. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and paused again, her gaze snagging on the memorial tattoo branded on her side. It was of a fallen feather with silhouetted ravens rising off of it. It had weighed her down for so long, despite feeling like a necessary tribute.
But she didn’t need the burden, or the guilt, of her own survival anymore. And that thought was immediately followed by another. “Aric,” she said, quietly. “Could you come here?”
He stepped up wordlessly, a concerned frown beginning to dip his lips. The question was evident in his eyes and she understood why.
She smiled up at him, hoping to reassure him a little, and moved her hand to the tattoo. “I want to … change this,” she said, searching for the words. “I don’t want to forget the people I lost before, but I don’t think I need to always be worried about who I’ll add next.”
His frown melted into a warm smile and he reached out, tracing his own fingers over the ink on her skin. “What did you have in mind?”
Her skin tingled beneath his touch, as it always did, but Rochelle managed to keep hold of her focus. “Something with fire,” she said. “I want to make them like birds of fire. To show that life goes on, and how I’ve come through my trials.”
Aric arched a brow. He was well aware of her discomfort with real fire. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t let that trauma hold her back, and it was the idea that had immediately popped into her head. “I don’t know how to incorporate it, exactly, but I’m sure that’s what I want.”
He hummed low and settled his palm over the tattoo, using his other hand tip her chin up, keeping her eyes on him. “Do you trust me?”
She opted not to roll her eyes at the seemingly ridiculous question. “I’m having a hard time not being insulted by that.” She laid a palm over his chest. “You know I do.”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss to her lips. “Close your eyes.”
She blinked at him for a moment, drew a breath, and closed her eyes. Then all she could do was feel as his fingers slid over her side, down near her hip and around, then up again toward the underside of her breast. Her skin tingled almost like pricks of electricity sparked through her, barely enough to tickle, yet at the same time stirring the heat inside her that responded so well to him.
His hand swept up from her hip in a quick movement, cupping her chin, and he said quietly, “All done.”
She opened her eyes on another exhale, staring for a lingering moment into his warm green, then obligingly turned her gaze back to the mirror and the secret it would reveal. Tears sprang up to her eyes.
A small, subtle pile of ash had been added at the very base of the feather, giving the feather the appearance of resting in the ash. Smoke trails wafted off the feather’s upturned edges, fading away into her skin, obscured and consumed by the birds. The beautiful, tragic, ravens-turned-birds-of-fire rose up and away from the now-ashen feather. The bird silhouettes were unchanged, but instead little touches of flame had been added around each—not obscuring them, but enhancing them. It looked as though each bird were engulfed, as if they had lifted off the smoking feather and burst into living fire.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she looked back up at Aric. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to her lips. “You have overcome so much, Rochelle. You made it through the flame. Let this be an inspiration, not a burden.”
Her heart warmed and she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling herself up into his chest. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’m free now. I’m home, here with you, Aric.” His arms came around her and held her tight. “Thank you, for loving me.”
“I’ll never stop.” His hands splayed across her spine. “I love you, Rochelle. Whatever else happens, you cannot lose me.”
That was all she needed to soar. She’d always been searching for that one person, that one constant, that she could depend on, the one that would fight for her. She had finally found that person in Aric Vardanyan. She finally trusted that her life had taken a turn for the better, and she had become stronger for it. Or perhaps that part was the other way around.
She pressed her lips to the skin at the base of his neck. “I can’t wait to marry you. Just to say you’re mine.” She lifted her head to smile at him. “You can’t lose me, either. I won’t ask you to fight for me without promising to do the same for you.”
He offered her a soft smile and threaded a hand into her hair. “From you, I’ll treasure that promise.”
Rochelle smiled, her heart swelling to the point of choking her, and pressed her hands into his back. “Aric. Kiss me.”
The End
