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“Turn around.” Every tremble of my voice was like an airhorn blare in the thick silence. I took a deep breath anyway. Pressed closer to him, so only he could hear, and whispered, “Please, Master. Turn around and look at me.”
Shiraz jerked back. But in inches of movement, stiff and fierce, he finally came back to face me. In huffs of breath, harsh and heavy, confronted me.
In one low, ferocious growl, told me exactly how pissed he was about being played. “You and I do not share whispers anymore, Miss Fava,” he followed to it. “If you have something to say to me, you shall say it out loud, right here, before my family and friends,”—he yanked up his head, throwing a damning look at Samsyn and Jayd—“who shall answer to me later about conveniently ‘forgetting’ your name was on this party guest list.” All too quickly, his glare dropped back to me—and the force of his snarl took over again. “Well?” he prompted. “What the fuck is it?”
Before I could control it, a flinch took over. He nodded tersely, almost as if expecting it, getting halfway through a new whirl before I curled a hand into his shirt, forcing him back. “No!”
He ripped away from me. Spread his arms wide. Leaned in, bellowing, “Then what, Lucy? What the hell do you want from me, because there is not a great deal left here!”
I avoided the flinch. Barely. Began shifting from foot to foot instead, trying to focus on the Zen-like squish of my spikes into the grass. Ladies and gentlemen, Buddha has left the garden. And had left behind a throbbing headache for me. And muddy shoes.
And the drowning, debilitating force of Shiraz Cimarron’s fury.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t. If this came out all wrong, then it just fucking would. If I hiccup-sobbed through it, then I just—
fucking
would.
“Shiraz.” I shot up my chin. No more whispering. No more weakness. I was proud of what I had to say. If he wanted me to scream it from the top of the north tower turret then I would, dammit. “I—I was wrong. And…I’m sorry.” It dissolved into a sob. I still didn’t care. “I’m so…fucking…sorry.”
He took half a step closer. It was tentative and abrupt—but at last, oh God at last, he was moving in the right direction. “Wrong.” He nearly stuttered it out too. His lower lip trembled. The corners of his bleak, beautiful eyes tightened and creased. “Wrong about what?”
“About what?” Unbelievably, I laughed—but it wasn’t easy, because it was real. Sincere. Totally snark-free. Simply, utterly me. I had no idea who this person was. I didn’t know the first thing about being her…about being this naked while still standing here in my clothes. But I wanted to try. God, how I wanted to try. “About—all of it, okay? I was…such an idiot. Such an ungrateful bitch, to the universe itself.” Another laugh, even more painful, broke free. “And a hypocrite. Oh, God—I was a hypocrite even more than a bitch! Did you know I gave Ambyr a speech about becoming a better woman for you? When I should’ve been looking in the freaking mirror…”
For a moment, the gritty lines on his face succumbed to a full gape. “A speech? To Ambyr? When?”
There’d be time to tell him later—I hoped. Time for talking to him about so much more. I hoped. It all came down…to this. To what I had to confess to him, and mean it.
“I should have been giving myself the damn speech,” I said through the tears. “I should have been becoming better for you…myself. That means being braver for you. Being here for you. And loving you—by starting with loving myself.”
Just saying the words took away some of the fear. Not all of it, but maybe in time, I’d get better at this self-acceptance shit. I’d learn I really was good enough. Hell, the hugest part was already handled. I’d fallen head over heels in love with the prince.
I let the courage fill me up—at least enough to reach forward, both my hands wrapping into his—
And letting my heart burst open as he crushed his fingers around mine.
And letting my soul explode as he shoved his big, untied boots against my muddy, four-inch Diors.
And letting my blood race as he dropped his bold, strong forehead right down onto mine. “Fuck,” he gritted. “My tupulai.” One of his hands slid up, cupping the back of my neck. “Merderim, my sweet woman. Thank you.”
My lips lifted. A lot. Got wet all over again as more tears broke free—this time, infused with just a little happy hope. Not a lot. Not yet…
“I love you too, Lucina Louise Fava.” He angled his face up, in order to press a fervent kiss between my eyebrows. “And I know this is so damn hard for you.”
I let out another half-delirious laugh. It was either that or pull a chicken shit on the rest of this plan—and I’d come too far for that now. Across my country. Across an ocean. Past all the cliffs of my own fears. Beyond every boundary of my fantasies.
Into the dream-come-true of loving him.
The man who was going to understand if I had to get a little snarky about this.
“Hard?” I slid out a sideways smirk, while purposefully stepping back a little from him. His face, breathtaking in its perplexity, studied my every move…
As I knelt before him.
With both our hands entwined once more, and my gaze lifted to meet the vast lakes of his gaze, I spoke once more—making each word heard throughout the garden.
“Shiraz Noir Cimarron…you are the destiny I never thought I’d find. The miracle I never thought I’d believe. The fantasy I never knew could be fulfilled. You are the honesty of my soul, the essence of my spirit, the passion of my heart, and the joy in my life.”
