Of Thorns and Beauty by Elle Madison
Chapter Fifty-Five
Idon't know how long I stand wrapped in his embrace, but he doesn't make me feel rushed or awkward. He doesn't falter at all.
He never seems to.
He was right, though, about the relief in saying the words aloud. The grief I have held on to for so long has edged out just enough to make room for another emotion.
Enough for me to realize his shirt laces have loosened, revealing the dark-blonde hairs on his solidly muscled chest. Before I can stop myself, my hand has traveled upward, my fingers drawn like a magnet to that space of skin.
I tilt my head up, meeting his eyes, letting him see everything that is burning in mine for a rare change.
"Zaina." His voice is hoarse when he says my name.
“Yes?”
But he appears to be at a rare loss for words, staring down at me with a thousand emotions swirling in his eyes.
I war with myself, because I will be gone tomorrow and he will be here, left with only the memory of this and a thousand questions he will never have answers for.
Does this make me as cruel as Madame?
There is one thing I can clearly discern from his expression. I see my own desire mirrored in his features, and it is larger-than-life, like everything about him. Imposing and overwhelming and, just for the tiniest fraction of a lifetime, mine.
I close the gap between us, standing on my toes and wrapping my arms around him. I pull his head down until my lips reach his. My fingers go to the laces on his shirt, untying them in record time. I tug on his hem, and he stills.
Opening his eyes and placing his hands over mine, he fixes me with a steady gaze.
"Are you sure you want this?"
For everything I am uncertain about, never once have I doubted the depth of my wanting for him.
"Yes." One word, breathy and barely audible.
His expression morphs into something far less controlled, white-hot desire edging out every other emotion on his face. But he reaches up with gentle hands, placing two fingers on my chain.
"How do I take this off?"
My eyes widen in surprise.
"I told you, it doesn't matter. I'm not --"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence with the word ‘pure’. He does not get to take what you did not offer and change the way you see yourself." He says the words with such conviction.
Tears stab at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill down my face with the overwhelming weight of all the emotions I can't quite identify. I put my hand over his, guiding him through the motions of unhooking the chain. He places it on the small table next to the bed, then returns his attention to me.
My fingers have traveled back to the hem of his shirt, but there is no need. He pulls it off with one swift motion, then sets to work on mine. His hands are surprisingly deft for their size, and he has undone each of my tiny, complex buttons in a matter of moments. Our pants follow, and we are soon standing bare before one another.
I try not to think of all the time we have wasted, time we could have been together that we will never have now. Instead, I stay in this moment of perfect intimacy.
He backs against the bed, pulling me toward him. Gently, he lifts my knees up to either side of his torso, and my lips meet his with urgency. I tilt his head to the side and kiss his neck, then push him back against the bed. I take my time exploring his shoulders, his chest, making sure to memorize every line and scar on his perfectly shaped body. He finally groans and flips us so that he is on top to do some exploring of his own.
He starts with my mouth, then moves downward, leaving a scorching trail of kisses all the way down my body. When he makes his way back up to my lips, he pulls back and asks me again.
"Are you sure you want this?"
Last time, the words were quiet, but this time I say them earnestly.
"Yes, Einar."
The sound of his name on my lips must be his undoing. But for all I have robbed him of his self-control, every point of contact is a gentle reverence. He moves with a deliberate slowness, broadcasting every movement and giving me every opportunity to stop him, opportunities I would die before taking at this point.
I didn't know it was possible to feel this way, like another person is an extension of your very being. I didn't think I was capable of loving a man in this capacity.
But in this moment, belonging to each other wholly, I realize just how much I have been fooling myself, because I could spend the rest of my life tucked inside Einar's protective arms.
In a way, that's what I am doing.
I lie awake for an hour after Einar falls asleep, memorizing the steady sounds of his breathing. Sixty minutes of silent tears that won't stop falling, of soaking in his endless supply of warmth and using it to bolster myself for what's ahead.
My eyes are finally drying by the time the clock chimes midnight. I give him another few minutes to make sure the sound didn't wake him, but he doesn't stir, his breathing deep and even. Content.
I snake my hand between us to the key around his neck, and deftly maneuver it over his head, going slowly to avoid the chain clinking. His breathing stills, and for a tense, awful moment, I wonder if all of my plans have been for nothing.
I place my free hand against his chest where the pendant would usually be, and his breathing evens out again. But it's too soon to sigh with relief, because that was only the first step.
Besides, there is no relief to be found in any of this, only a sick revulsion that creeps all the way through my being to my very core.
I wait another moment before easing my way off the bed and crossing the room to where Khijhana sleeps in the chair near the door to the privy. I stand there for a solid moment where I would have a convenient excuse to be, but he doesn't stir, so I slip my clothes on as quietly as I can, keeping my gaze fixed firmly on his face the whole time.
I tell myself it’s so I will know if he has been alerted, but the truth is that I want to linger in every last second I have with him.
Slipping my unmarked hand into a glove, I feel an unreasonable wave of sadness over that, too. The wedding markings are gone. It will be like I was never here at all.
When there is nothing else that could possibly give me an excuse to stay here, and I know time is running short, I tap Khijhana on her nose to wake her.
She is silent as a wraith and intuitive as ever as she slides off the chair and stands at my side. It is fortunate that I have already eked every last bit of moisture from my body, because her loyalty would finish me.
I pick up my boots and cross the room on soundless footfalls, opening the panel just as quietly. With a final glance over my shoulder to see that Einar sleeps soundly, I ease the door to the passageway shut.
Speed becomes as important as stealth as I make my way to my rooms. Hastily, I throw on my boots and grab the artificial rose from its hiding spot. I pull off three of the petals, and they fall to the ground like droplets of blood from the shattered pieces of my soul.
I have to backtrack to Einar’s room. I give him a quick look to ensure I haven’t disturbed him, but I don’t allow my gaze to linger beyond that. If I focus on him for too long, my resolve will crumble and this will all be for nothing.
Quickly, I slip across his room, all the way to the passageway on the other side. Hurriedly, I pull the books in the exact same order he had, and the bookcase slides open. I hate myself for how easy it is to betray a man who deserves it less than anyone I know.
I am back to my room with the real rose in a matter of minutes. I slide my boots on, then scrawl a quick note at the small writing desk. I put the flower and the note in a small black satchel, then slip it into the pocket of my heaviest cloak.
Finally, I turn to Khijhana on knees that will barely support me, wrapping my arms around her neck.
"You can't come with me where I am going," I whisper as if she understands.
And maybe she does, or maybe she merely senses my anguish, because she lets out a tiny, keening mew. Damian thinks I am handing off the rose to him, but I have an entirely different sort of plan in mind.
"I would take you if I could, but he will kill you, and I couldn't bear that on top of everything else. You'll be safe here." I thought my tears had dried away, but I have to fight back a sob as I kiss the top of her furry head.
"Besides, Einar is going to need someone when I am gone." I stand up, brushing the fresh wave of tears off my face, because I know Damian, and I know that none of this will work if he senses the slightest hesitation from me.
"Take care of each other," I say in a calmer tone.
Khijhana follows me to the passageway door, but I slip through and close it behind me, ignoring her forlorn meow. I know how soundproof these walls are, how I can only barely hear acoustic sounds like footsteps through them, but I hear Khijhana's cries echoing in my head all the way until I reach the outer door.
When the icy blast of air hits me from outside, it seems to freeze everything inside of me as well. Because this is it, the only way I could see through the thousands of possibilities I walked down. Even if walking out this door means I can never return, never see my sisters or Einar again.
This is the only way to save them.
End of Book One.