Author's Note

Hello My Darlings,

I apologize for the wait. I know that you were in agony waiting for me to reveal Mare's fate. Your wait is at an end.

There are no hard triggers for the section. However, the standard warning for self-harm and depression apply.

Tread Carefully and Happy reading!

Mare's POV

I vacillate on the edge of consciousness for hours; being swept in and out like the tide on a turbulent sea. Waking up for the first time was like being ripped from relative comfort and safety and shoved violently back into a harsh reality. Bright lights, burning muscles, stabbing pains throughout my abdomen, there is a clicking that sends panic through my already tired and sore body; It is agony. This pain is different than the pain of the sunder though; it doesn't shock or turn me against myself, it feels like a slow death, the kind that can take years. I screamed. I thrashed. I pulled the tubes and wires from my body. I fought until they pushed the needle into my arm and I slipped away again. Now, every time I come to, the pain is a little less. I feel cold all over, but I make no move to alleviate my suffering. I don't move at all. After the first time I woke, I don't even bother to open my eyes again. Instead, I lie very still listening to the clicks and beeps of the machines. I know that I will pass out again soon, so I don't even make an effort. It is too much work to do anything other than just exist. I am exhausted. Sleep and unconsciousness are not the same things. There is no rest in my unconsciousness. It takes me back to my fever dreams; where I find Cal waiting for me, honey eyes sweet with affection and a hint of joy. Those eyes make me want to survive this, to return to him.

I don't lose consciousness again. I lay there for what could be days for all my sense of time, just waiting, waiting for something, anything to happen. People come in and out. I listen to the whisperings, pretend not to notice as they check my temperature and monitor my heart rate. I know what I will see when I finally decide to open my eyes, I am not ready to face him. I have been listening to him pace for over an hour. I can hear his misery in his steps. The quiet shuffle haphazardly integrated into a usually confident stride.

I resign myself to the idea that he will not leave me until he must. I had hoped for a moment that duty would pull him away, or that his anger would lead him back to court find out what happened to me. I can't put it off any longer. I Breathe deeply through my nose and ball my fists in the over-starched sheets. The lights are bright enough to hurt my eyes. I make a small noise in protest and squeeze them shut again. The pacing breaks and he is by my side. His hands burn against my skin. It isn't uncomfortable enough to outclass my other symptoms, so I don't make a move to stop him when he rests my palm flat against his cheek and holds it there. My arm aches, but I don't resist.

"Why is she so cold." He sounds like a little boy. Fear, anger, and sorrow all hang in the air, waiting for an answer, reassurance that he isn't going to lose that last person for which he feels anything other than hatred. I twitch my thumb. His skin is smooth and wet. I didn't know he could still cry.

"It's the treatment. It seems to be working, but we won't know for sure until she wakes up." Larissa Is quiet, but close by. I assume the cold is from the healing. Burning fingers touch my face and trail down my neck.

"Larissa, when you are finished with the damage from the poison, will do something about her other scars?" Anyone who didn't have their full attention focused on him, would not have noticed the quiver in his voice.

"Do you mean the ones on her back and neck?" there is no judgment behind her words, but I hold my breath until Maven answers her.

"I mean every mark on her that I am responsible for. Especially this." He tugs gently at the collar of my shirt to reveal the brand on my collarbone. I reach up and grasp his wrist. My muscles scream at the exertion, and there is no strength in my grip.

"Not that one." My mouth and throat are dry and sticky, the words feel like coarse sand, tearing at my vocal cords. I push them out anyway. I cannot let her heal the brand he left on me. It is my steady reminder of what he is. Without it, I fear that I will forget everything he has put me through, everything that I am fighting for, everything that makes me who I am. Moreover, I now know that it gives me leverage over him. He is ashamed of what he has done to me; perhaps he also feels shame for killing innocent newbloods and children. "You can take my scars, all of them, but this one."

"Mare." He pulls away, but I don't release his wrist. My strength is sapped, and he could break my grip with no effort, but he doesn't. I wonder if he feels something similar to what I do; if his wants and needs also exist in a near constant state of conflict. Wanting to touch or be touched, but needing to maintain enough distance to keep from being consumed. I force my eyes open. The harsh light makes them water. It takes almost a minute to focus my vision. I find his eyes first. They are bloodshot; bright silver veins run through the blue; they are hard, like crystals. I let go of him and let my hand fall limply back to the mattress.

"Miss Barrow, how do you feel?" I watch him withdraw into himself, finding a place to stand along the wall. I don't take my eyes off him.

"I need water." When she stands, I expect the cold to diminish a little, but it doesn't. She leaves the room. Maven says nothing when she leaves; he won't even look at me. "What happened?"

"You almost died. Again." He never looks up.

"You say that like it is my fault." Small tendrils of fire curl around his hands as he twists his wrists to spark his flamemakers. Maven is upset. I don't know who he is angry with. When he crosses his arms over his chest, small black scorch marks stand out on the bright white plaster walls. Larissa comes back in; I take the cold water from her.

"Your Majesty, I have to ask you to step out while I speak to Miss Barrow." He pushes away from the wall and says nothing as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. "How do you feel? Any grogginess, dizziness, nausea, headache?"

"My entire body hurts, and I am cold." The water helps, but the words still scratch at my throat.

"That is from the filtering, I will soothe the pain, but you will probably feel cold for several hours." She busies herself with searching the cabinets. When she finds a heavier blanket, she tucks it around me. For just a moment, I remember my mother and the way she doted on me when I was brought to Piedmont. It was the first and only time I recall her doing so.

"Filtering? What does that mean? What happened?" I wince, not from pain, but from the whining sound in my voice.

"You were poisoned. But don't worry, you are fine now. The toxins were cleaned from your blood, and I can start repairing the damage. You'll be under my care for the next several days." She stares at the monitors. Larissa has not made eye contact since I woke.

"Thank you. For everything" It is an earnest platitude, but she knows that I truly mean it. I drink from the cup again.

"How about your abdomen? And pain or discomfort?"

"Yes. It's like being stabbed." She looks at me for the first time.

"Show me where." I Place my hand high on the right side of my abdomen. Larissa seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "Sarah is my great aunt you know. She had a beautiful singing voice before... Is she alright? Do you know?" I study her for a moment, trying to decide if I can trust her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. You have no reason to trust me." She starts making notes in her folder. When she looks up at me again, she is all business. "I am going to ask you a difficult question, you don't have to answer, but I hope that you will. The wounds on your thighs. Are they self-inflicted?"

"Yes." I offer her nothing more. She nods.

"I can heal them, but that won't make the compulsion go away. Is there anyone you can talk to about this?" There is a very fine line between sympathy and pity and were I being truthful; I would admit that I hate both equally.

"No. I am alone here. Talking to anyone about what drives me to this puts them in danger. My thoughts are treasonous." She gives a knowing nod.

"I see." She is quiet for a moment. "You can talk to me. I will take that risk and responsibility." She meets my eye. "I will earn your trust." I look at her skeptically. "There is one last thing before I start." The young healer looks uncomfortable. It makes me anxious. "The pills you took this morning, I would not have given them to Kyra if I had known."

"Known what?" She looks up at me, eyes wide.

"You don't even know." Now she looks tense, scared even. "You're pregnant. About three weeks by my estimate." I can't breathe. "So, there is no way… The father is—"

"Who else knows?"

"No one. The healers who assisted me are not strong enough in their powers to detect such a young fetus yet. Which brings me to another difficult question, what do you want to do?" My entire body contracts and convulses "You don't have to decide now, you have time. It's still early, but neither the pills nor the poison seemed to have hurt the fetus." She stands. "Rest now. I will be back to check on you in a couple of hours."

"Larissa, Sarah has a beautiful voice again." She smiles broadly.

"Thank you." There is relief in her eyes; perhaps I could try to trust her.

"Please don't tell the King." I hope that my eyes provide the sense of imploring that screams through the back of my mind.

"I wouldn't dream of it." With that, she leaves me alone with my thoughts.

What am I going to do? My mind spins off in every conceivable direction at once. I am not getting enough air. I squeeze my eyes and my fists closed. My nails dig into my palms, and I use the sharp sting to keep me in the moment.

I had always presumed that I would have children, though, I have never truly wanted them or even actually liked them. But, that was before my life took an abrupt turn. I hadn't thought about kids since the day I fell into the Queenstrial Arena. Before that day, it was assumed by everyone that should I survive my conscription, I would marry Killorn, and we would have our own kids, just like everyone else in The Stilts. Since that day, it has been relatively safe to assume that if Elara did not kill me, the rebellion would. So, I put it from my mind. There was no reason to worry about something that was probably never going to be.

But now, it is happening, and I am panicking. I need to calm down; Maven could be back any moment. I try to concentrate on breathing slow deep breaths. With my eyes closed, I slip back into the very first fever dream I had while under the influence of the poison. It seems so obvious now that the dream was my mind and body trying to prepare me for this. It is too little too late. I don't think there is anything that could have prepared me for this. Even if I were older, and my life wasn't in such a volatile state, I would not be prepared for this. How could we have been so reckless?

I shut down. I shut it out. I can't deal with this right now. I will not make this decision until Larissa tells me I have too. Now is not the time.

The mission first.

Maven's POV

I am sulking in the hall when the healer exits her room. I stare at the floor with my hands shoved in my pockets I want nothing more than to sink back into the wall and be left alone with my thoughts; with my position and status, that will never be. I can't fathom why she would want to keep such a mark. Why, if she has feelings for me, would she want to be reminded of such pain and suffering. I know she is struggling with her feelings, she carves her struggles in skin. I knew it the moment I saw the perfect line scratched into her palm. I had hoped that it was not a recurring compulsion, but when I saw them again last night, deeper, longer, angrier, hidden where there would be little chance of someone discovering them; I knew that she is hiding much more than she is confiding in me. I understand the compulsion. I do it myself, mine, however, builds up until I explode and hit something. It is far more satisfying or me to do damage something else along with myself.

I know that I am at fault. That she struggles with how she feels because of how I betrayed her, how I tortured her to keep her close, and my inability to separate myself from my anger long enough to have a meaningful interaction with her without making her question whether I am trying to change. She will never know the self-loathing it breeds in me, the knowledge that I am responsible for her anguish. I count the tiles on the floor. I have too many questions for Lady Skonos, but I can't bring myself to ask her any of them. She cannot know the depth of my feelings for Mare. No one can. I silently will her to pass by me without a word, to leave me to my wallowing. She doesn't; she stands at a respectful distance waiting for me to acknowledge her. I don't make eye contact.

"How is she?" I'm trying too hard to keep my mood out of my voice; it sounds flat and disinterested in my ears. I'm sure It makes no matter to her how I sound, they all know what I am.

"I'll be keeping a close eye on her for a few days, but she will make a full recovery." I can feel her eyes on me. I'd prefer to brood, but she is waiting for something. I could dismiss her, put an end to this, but curiosity gets the better of me. I shift my gaze from the floor and turn my head to look at her. Larissa stands with a straight back and her eyes respectfully downcast. She looks tired. She has been working on Mare for hours without rest. I don't know how I will ever thank her for bringing her back to me.

"Is there something else, Lady Skonos?" The little blonde woman in front of me gives herself a little shake as though she is waking from a daydream. Her eyes are pale green. I had never bothered to notice before.

"No, Majesty, there isn't." When she moves to pass me, I reach out and grasp her elbow. My grip is firm, but not harmful; there is no heat in it.

"You wanted to say something. What was it?" Fear turns her eyes to jade. "There will be no reprisals." She shifts uncomfortably, but her eyes never leave my face. I am surprised at her boldness.

"You love her, don't you? You love her, and you have no idea how to express it, how to make her feel it, right?" I study her, unsure of her intentions, of whether or not confiding in her would be my downfall. I try to bite back the word, but it slips out despite my best efforts.

"Yes." There is a bubbling feeling in the pit of my stomach. A single word will be my undoing. One quiet syllable of admission will bring down everything that my mother worked so diligently to build. She bows her head knowingly.

"Then let her go." It's quiet, barely audible and laced with fear. It takes me several deep breaths to keep my word, no reprisals.

"She is free to leave if she chooses to." I have to push the words out from between my teeth. The tension in my jaw making it ache. I pull my hand away so to keep from burning her.

"That is not true, Your Majesty, and she knows that even more than you or I do." She takes a step back. I am sure that what she is about to say is tantamount to treason, but I won't kill her until Mare is safely recovered. "If you want her to love you in return, give her the choice to do so. Don't demand it of her, that will only breed further resentment." The entire width of the hall separates us by the time she finishes. The air is hot and dry. Lady Skonos drops her gaze and dips into a neat curtsey. "I have overstepped. My apologies, Majesty." She does not rise.

"Thank you, Lady Skonos. You're dismissed." She rises slowly but leaves at a brisk pace. Before she turns the corner at the end of the hall, she turns back.

"When you go in, don't agitate the patient. Doctor's orders." She disappears around the corner. I watch her go, a small smile on my lips. When I turn back toward the door, anxiety grips me. I stop just short of opening it. I want to be near her, but it is my fault she is in here. I am to blame every time I have had to sit vigil over her. I am a plague on her life. If I were a stronger man, I would let her go, let her be happy. But I'm not. I push the door open slowly and peek my head inside. She is curled up on her side with her back to me. I know better than to believe that she is asleep. She doesn't sleep when she is on her own unless exhaustion overtakes her. I am culpable for that too, I suppose. I haven't worked out what to say to her when she addresses me.

"Is there a reason you are lurking in the doorway?" I step inside and close the door behind me. Before I can open my mouth to confront her, she speaks again. "I'm sorry, Maven." How the Hell is she so disarming. I came in here to ask her why she wants to keep that hideous brand, but now there are no words. She makes me feel like an awkward boy. I am not confident. I am not a man. I am not a King. I begrudge her for the insecurity that she cultivates in me.

"What could you possibly have to be sorry about?" I chide myself for the snide tone. I was told to keep her calm. I shift uncomfortably between feet, keeping my head down.

"This, all of it." There is a catch in her voice. Has she been crying? I look up, watching her shoulders for signs of distress.

"Are you apologizing for being poisoned?" I take a few steps forward. I am not close enough to touch her yet, but still, I stop, unsure of how she will react to my unpracticed attempts to comfort her.

"No. I am apologizing for putting myself in the position to be poisoned." There is more she wants to say. I wait, curious to know what she is thinking. The thought strikes me as odd, I have never been interested in knowing what is going on in someone else's head. "I acted on my feelings without considering the consequences. I should have waited. All my impulsive actions have done is put us in danger and you at risk of losing control of the High Houses." I am at a loss. Her logic makes my head ache. I close the distance between us. Leaning over her, I smooth the loose hair away from her face. She flinches. I disregard it and the little wound it inflicts and sit on the edge of the bed.

"Mare," I want to plead with her, make her see reason But I know better. She is stubborn, and there will be no convincing her that it is not her fault. I draw the back of my hand down her cheek., It is cold but soft. "you are not responsible for what happened."

"Don't try to comfort me. I know what I did." She pulls her shoulder in tight, putting as much space between us as she can without getting out of bed. I try again; I don't want to let her pull away from me. I need her with me, on my side if I am going to get rid of Iris. I reach for her again.

"No one is to blame for this other than Iris, and she will be dealt with accordingly." There is anger in my voice. I have no control over my emotions right now.

"You can't punish her. She acted within her rights." There are tears in her voice. I wish she would look at me.

"There are laws in place to govern those rights. The Queen cannot just poison a mistress and expect to be acquitted of wrongdoing." I have to take a moment to calm myself before I continue. "However, you signed the contract before we consummated our relationship. My Queen committed treason against her King, and she will be punished to the full extent of the law." She turns and fixes me with a glare that would have burned right through me if our abilities were reversed.

"Excuse me? I did what?" The indignation in her voice is expected.

"As far as anyone is concerned, you are my sworn consort, legally my mistress. No one can touch you" The lights flicker, sparks fly from the machines that monitor her vital signs. I listen to her heart rate increase—each beep reminding me how I have betrayed her trust yet again. There is no way she can understand the scope of what I have done to keep her alive in the last twelve hours, and it will be days before she forgives me for protecting her. She won't even consider it until her circumstances force her to do so, just like every other transgression I have committed. I can't bring myself to admit to her that she was right; that the court rallied behind the Queen and called for Mare's death for treason and adultery. It is certainly better that she lay her anger on me for my choices than turning her loose on the court for vengeance, or worse, letting her stand trial and be executed for our indulgences. However, I need to be careful, she and I are volatile, liable to combust at any moment.

"And what exactly have I agreed to?" There is venom in her voice. My viper has reared her lovely head again. I don't move, lest she strike me.

"It will be amended when you are well, Until—" I try to keep my voice even and quiet. The last thing I want is for her to lash out at me, physically. With my temper so erratic, it could be dangerous for her.

"No, tell me what you have put my name to. Have I finally given in and agreed to be yours, your Majesty? Will I be at your disposal? Subject to your every whim? Am I sworn to only you?—" I rise to her challenge. My patience has run out; I will not be reprimanded for protecting what is mine, nor will I allow her to question my motives.

"If you are asking if you are free to be with someone else, the answer is no. The moment you came back to me you relinquished that privilege." This time, it is my turn to hiss and spit. "You already knew that though. You knew when you returned to me that I would never allow you to be with anyone other than me. Especially him. I'd kill you both before I let you find a way to be together." Rage boils beneath the surface just thinking of her with Cal.

"Don't change it." She drops her gaze, staring down at her arms, which are crossed low over her stomach. She almost looks demure.

"Why not? I could give you more freedom, Make your life comfortable and safe. You just have to let me." She doesn't move.

"No amount of amending will give me back my freedom to choose to be with you. That hurts more than anything you have ever done to me." Once again, she has reduced me to nothing, taking both my fight and my weapon. I let my shoulders drop. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to rest, and I can't do that with you hovering." She turns away, dismissing me. I stand but don't move to leave.

"The nightmares—" My mind returns to the first night I left her alone, the screaming and the errant electricity in the air. I don't want to put her through that again.

"I prefer them to you." She hasn't the slightest idea how her words cut through me. I squeeze my fists closed, slamming the door when I leave. In the corridor, I slump against the door and slide down. I lean my head back against it and stare up at the tiled ceiling. The sound of her quiet sobbing carries through the door and into the silent hall. After what feels like hours, she falls silent. I give her a few more minutes to fall into a fitful sleep, and then I will go back in. I don't want to leave her to languish in her dark dreams.

When I reenter the room, it is empty. She has pulled all the tubes and wires free of her skin and disappeared. I suppress a smile and go to the open window. The fire escape hasn't been let down. She went up. I follow her. The window is more of an obstacle than I thought it would be. Her small, agile frame would allow her to fit through it quickly and quietly. I, on the other hand, struggle, my long limbs making me look and feel ridiculous as I squeeze through the frame.

The wind blows unusually cool for the season on the roof. It whips her hair around her face and makes her gown cling to her. I shove that thought down. Dark clouds gather on the horizon obscuring the stars, A storm is coming.

"You had the opportunity to run, and you didn't" I raise my voice to be heard over the wind, when she doesn't respond immediately, I assume that she has not heard me I take a few more steps and Open my mouth to call to her again, but the words are lost in a sudden strike of violent purple light and heat. It lands just inches ahead of me. I heed her none-too-subtle warning., but still have to wonder whether she missed on purpose.

"Who says I am not running?" She is too close to the edge of the roof. The ledge that marks the roofline is low, a simple step up or a strong gust of wind in the wrong direction would mean a six-floor fall to the pavement below.

"You did when you chose to come up here instead of disappearing into the night. We both know how easily you could have escaped me, that the only thing holding you here is the power you grant me over you." The truth in words strike me as I say them. Should she ever decide that her life has as much value as those she fights for and stop sacrificing herself for them, she could walk away, and I would be powerless to stop her.

"There is more than one way to run away." The sky steadily darkens overhead, the clouds move in with unnatural speed, as if aided by a Windweaver. I watch the pale purple energy pulsate in the growing chaos. The moon disappears behind the clouds. The only light is a dim purple glow from the sky.

"Look at me." She doesn't move or respond. "Mare, look at me." It is a command from her King, and still, she refuses. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. Warm metallic blood flows over my tongue. I swallow it down. Heat and static crackle through the air. They snap and pop as the charged particle meet the sparks and embers from flamemakers and my tense muscles. "it won't save them." Her head snaps up. "Your death will only make me resent them more." There it is. She finally turns to face me. Her eyes are made of glass, and her lips tremble, she looks chalky and sick. She should not be standing, let alone throwing a temper tantrum using her abilities. I am astonished she can even wield her power in this state. "Why would I show them mercy for killing you? For forcing you to sacrifice your life for theirs?" I can't read her expression. I continue. "I am not just talking about the reds." Lightning dances around her hands. I am in danger of going too far, but I can't stop now. I have right where I want her. "Your family, the rebels, my brother; your blood will be on their hands as well." She falters. I choose to believe it is because of her family and not the traitor Prince. The sparks die as I approach her. The wind is still cold. She shivers. "They would all let you burn to save themselves. They have proved that to be true at every opportunity. They send you straight into harm's way without a second thought. They choose power over you. They would allow your suffering for their happiness." Her face is blank. I take the opportunity to touch her hand. When she doesn't pull away, I sweep her into my arms and place myself between her and the ledge. My final argument is just above a whisper in her soft magnolia-scented hair. "I am as terrible as they are; hurting you, deceiving you, Keeping you for my own selfish reasons. But for all the heinous things that I have done, know that I would never let you die for me. Your life gives me meaning, and I would do anything to protect you, even risk your wrath." I lay my cheek against the top of her head holding her more tightly than is probably necessary. "You believe me, don't you?" She doesn't hesitate long before she nods, pressing her face into my shirt. I can already feel her tears. I stand with her for several minutes, stroking her hair. She twists her fingers in the fabric. I take off my jacket on put it around her shoulders. She looks so small under the thick shoulders of the jacket. I put my arms back around her. "I would die to protect you."

When the rain starts to fall, I take her back inside. I don't bother with the fire escape. Instead, I melt the lock for the roof access door and take her down the stairs. She is still weak. The treatment may have been just as bad as the poison, and it is likely that she ripped the tubes out before the machine finished cycling her blood through the filter. Despite her frailty, she will not let me do more than assist her. I could easily overpower her and carry her back downstairs, but I allow her autonomy and keep close in case she needs me. The caregiver is a hard role for the selfish to play.

Mare doesn't speak to me again until we arrive at Whitefire, just after sunrise. I don't hold it against her, mostly because she has been holding herself against me since we left the hospital roof. She slept curled around me so that II might keep her warm while lady Skonos tended to the more severe damage done by the Foxglove poison. Even now, she clings to my arm like a lifeline as we walk slowly through the palace. I had no idea how starved I was for physical affection until she started showing it to me. The little glances, the light caress of her hand, every little gesture takes me to a place inside that I could never otherwise reach. A place I thought my mother had carved out of me long ago. Regardless of what her motives may have been in the beginning, I want to believe that she feels something for me now, even if it is tainted by hatred because of my vile mishandling of every decision I've made since meeting her.

"Where are we going? Isn't the infirmary the other way?" She asks as we stop in front of the elevator. She is not strong enough for the stairs. We step inside. We are alone for only a moment, but a small ember of warmth inside my chest grows into a full flame. I want to hold her, but fear keeps me from acting on my feelings.

"Do you want to stay in the infirmary?" There is only the slightest hint of teasing in my voice. In has been quite some time since I flirted with a girl. I am out of practice.

"No, I just thought that since Lady Skonos would be caring for me, I would need to be where she is." I regret my tone when she gets defensive and loosens her grip on my arm. I tilt her chin up to look at me.

"You should start expecting people to come to you." A small voice in the back of my mind screams for me to kiss her, but I freeze. "Too much, too fast" rings in my ears. I don't want to risk losing her again. When the doors to the elevator slide open, we are met by my guards and hers. "Besides, I was hoping you would stay with me; let me try my hand at not being everything you hate for a few days." She studies me for a moment as I guide her out into the hall. Her brown eyes are intense with scrutiny. I don't know what she is looking for. After a few moments, her expression softens, she apparently saw what she needed to.

"All right." I smile despite myself. "Impress me." The guards let us into my rooms. Once we are alone, she lets go of me. And moves so she faces me. I brush loose hair back and tuck it back behind her ear.

"Yes, my darling?" She bites her lip. "You can ask me for anything." I put my finger to her lips and draw it out from between her teeth. "The suspense is killing me, just tell me what you want."

"I want you to kiss me." I look down at her, her eyes sparkle.

"Why?" It isn't my intention to dissuade her, I have never wanted anything more than I want to kiss her at this moment, but I have to know why she wants it. I broke our fragile trust and must suffer the consequences for it.

"I want to feel what feel for me." Her voice is hushed, but confident.

"I showed you that when we—"

"I felt your lust. Now, I need to feel your love." I wrap my arm around her waist and gently pull her to me. She lays both hands on my chest, giving up her control voluntarily. My fingers curl in her hair as I cradle her head. I hold her against me, my gaze never leaving her face. When my lips meet hers, I feel as though I could outshine the sun.