Page 139 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

Not this knowledge that with Iiro in some form of power and my father using up all his lucid moments to profess his hatred for my new bride, all of this felt tenuous. Temporary and not quite real.

Rowan shifted her body until she was laying on top of me, her soft curves pressing into my solid chest, and the feeling grounded me.

She leaned down to press a kiss against my lips. Her mass of crimson hair spilled all around us, cocooning us further into this world that was just ours and pulling me from my morbid thoughts.

Not wanting this moment to end, I couldn’t help but tease her.

“I especially loved you in that dress tonight, though I have to say, I much prefer you out of it.”

One of the many, many things I adored about my wife was that she didn’t bother to pretend to be shy.

“Oh?” She gave me a wicked little smile, sitting up and shaking her hair behind her while she stretched her arms over her head. “I think I prefer that as well.”

Again. She had no issues with shyness.

My mouth went completely dry. She was, without a doubt, the single most exquisite thing I had ever seen. It was still hard to believe she was here.

Here at the estate.

Here in my bed.

Here in my arms.

“Have I told you lately how gorgeous you are?” I murmured, leaning up to press my lips against the space just below her collarbone.

“Hmmm,” she mused. “I believe you’ve told me...never.”

My eyes snapped up to hers. She didn’t look particularly bothered by this fact, but neither was she lying.

That can’t be right.

I had thought it every waking minute of every day she was in my rooms, even when she was being infuriating. Especially then, the way her eyes would burn in defiance or sparkle with amusement when she argued with every storms-blasted thing that I said.

But I had put so much effort into concealing those feelings, it hadn’t occurred to me that I never actually told her.

“Well, allow me to remedy that,” I said, running my hands along the creamy skin of her shoulders, down to her waist. “You, Rowan Stenvall…”Der’mo, I loved the way that sounded.

“Are irresistibly…” I pressed a kiss against her jawbone.

“Insanely…” I kissed closer to the spot below her ear, the one I knew would elicit a gasp from her.

Sure enough, it did.

“Beautiful,” I whispered in her ear.

I expected her to make a cheeky remark in response, but when I backed away to look at her face, her eyes were wide, and she swallowed.

This meant more to her than she had let on. For all her jokes and her confidence, it mattered to her. I gave her another piece of the puzzle, something to solidify the truth of my words in her mind.

“Why do you think I came over to talk to you that first day?” I raised an eyebrow.

Her lips parted in surprise. “I...never really thought about it, since you wound up being such an arseling.”

That was fair enough, but only because I had put together that she was from Lochlann once I saw her green eyes and suspected a scheme.

Before that, though, I had seen the profile of a pert nose, soft lips, and her stubborn chin. I had seen a girl standing unflinchingly in a sea of men who towered over her while she followed every blow of a fairly brutal fight.

And I had been drawn to her by an invisible string that I never could quite seem to sever.

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