Page 51 of The Stolen Throne

He slides a hand from my hair to caress my cheek. “You are the novel readers desperately search for. A once in a lifetime kind of work. I never wish to stop reading you. Forever caressing your pages. My precious book.”

My eyes widen at his confession before they soften. “I believe that will be a very long book, Bene. Do you really want to read the same story for so long?”

He smiles as he answers, “Each chapter is just as precious as the last. The story is built with each word written. I can’t wait to turn the page to see what happens next.”

“Is that right?”

He lowers to brush his lips across mine in a soft caress, then whispers, “It’s a story I hope never ends.”

“All stories must eventually come to an end,” I whisper back.

He pulls away, and I see emotions I never thought I’d see in a villain's eyes. True fucking heartbreak. “Then I hope my story ends before yours.”

My eyes burn. “Benedict…”

“Holding your closed book is unthinkable.” He brushes his lips against mine and says softly, “Your book is the only one in my hoard.”

The fear I felt about telling the others my feelings disappears in this moment. I can’t fight my heart anymore. Book forgotten, I slip my fingers into his platinum locks. I press my lips to his, the kiss soft and languid. I pull away just enough for my lips to caress his as I tell him, “I love you. So let’s end our stories together.”

Ishould tell the others. I pace my room as I debate telling the others how I feel. We will be going into battle in a few days, and I don’t want to go into it without them knowing how I feel. But would telling them cause them to change their minds and refuse my request to join them on the battlefield? Especially after what happened the last time.

My confession to Bene slipped between my lips before I could stop the words. I hadn’t meant to tell him. But the wide-eyed look he gave me makes it hard to regret telling him. The way he ravished me on that sofa. Mhm. I feel heat pool between my legs just thinking about it.

Shaking myself out of the memory, I slap my face. Focus! Stop thinking about his dick and focus on the problem at hand. What is the problem again? The guys… Love! That’s it. I was debating telling the others how I feel.

A knock at my door causes me to pause my pacing. Turning to the door, I say, “Yes?”

The door creaks open, and Dax pokes his head through. He looks pensive, which makes me worry. “Dax?”

With a huff, he slips into my room, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it. He’s looking at the ground when he says, “I have bad news.”

“I figured as much from your expression,” I reply as I make my way over to him. I reach for his fisted hand and hold it in mine. “Dax? What’s wrong?”

He allows me to take his hand into mine but refuses to look me in the eye. “It seems my father has decided that he is tired of waiting for me to make the next move.”

I move so that he cannot escape my gaze as I state, “You still have not told me what is wrong.”

His eyes bore into mine as he grunts. “He has assigned men to the border between Arcelia and Wylan. He is moving to attack.”

My hands tighten around his before I nod. “Alright.” I release his hands, turning to change into my battle leathers.

Before I get far, he grabs my arm. “Alright?”

I turn enough to meet his gaze. “Yes. Alright. Let’s get ready to march out.”

His grip on my arm tightens, and he growls out, “Eira, we are not ready. You are not ready. You haven’t healed enough.”

I turn fully to wrap my arms around him. He freezes at the sudden hug, but then slowly starts to relax. I squeeze him tighter as I say, “We are ready. Your men have been training every day. I have healed enough, Dax.”

He wraps me tightly in his arms as grumbles, “You are not healed enough for my liking.”

“The enemy will not wait for me to be at one hundred percent to attack. I am well enough to fight. I promise.”

He pulls away, looking down at me with narrowed eyes. “You will not stray far from one of us.”

It’s a command not a request. I nod and smile. “I will not stray far.”

His arms move from our embrace, so he can cup my face. His voice turning desperate as he begs, “Do not fly away, Little Raven.”

---