Page 101 of Devotion

“I’m happy,” he admits.

“Oh.”

“This is what happiness looks like on me.”

I scoot closer so I can nuzzle his neck. “There’s an awful lot of irony in your happiness.”

“Well, yeah. What else would you expect from me?”

That makes me giggle, and I giggle even more when he pulls me over so I’m draped on top of his outstretched body. We kiss for a minute—light and playful and sweet—and then he drops his head back and settles me more comfortably on top of him.

My ear is against his chest, so I can hear his heart beating. It’s comforting. Intimate. A reminder that this man—his body, his mind, his heart, his breath—is mine. In my hands. For the rest of our lives.

“You’re happy too, right?” he asks after a few minutes.

“You know perfectly well that I’m happy. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings from you.”

“No.” His body shakes a few times with soft laughter. “You haven’t.”

“So you’d know if something was wrong or if I didn’t like it here. You can relax, Gabriel. I’m good here. And as I long as I can visit my family at least a couple of times a year, I’ll be good here for the rest of my life.”

His arms tighten, so I know his response even without words.

“It’s different here,” I add, trailing my fingers from his arm to his shoulder and then to his jaw, playing with the beginnings of his beard. He still hasn’t shaved. I don’t know how long he’ll keep it. He wants to look different than he did in the Capital, which is why he’s growing it out and why he cut his hair. But it seems to bother him. He rubs at it a lot. So it seems likely he’ll give up and shave it off eventually.

The change in appearance was practical in Saint Louis, but here it’s hardly necessary. I suspect it’s more the psychological impact of looking different that matters to him the most. And that won’t always be as meaningful to him as it is now.

“Do you not like it?” he asks when I keep rubbing my fingers over the texture of his facial hair.

“I like it just fine. It’s kind of fun and different. But if it bugs you, just shave it off.”

“I might. I haven’t decided.” He sighs. “A beard isn’t likely to make a difference to whether anyone recognizes me or not.”

I lift my head to peer down at him. “You said they wouldn’t come out this far.”

“They won’t. I really don’t think they will. Dad said the guy who monitors the radio for news heard that Vincent put a bounty on me. It’s substantial, but it’s all in credits. So no one outside the Central Cities will get any use out of it. It’s mostly intended to prevent me from ever returning. Which is fine. As if I’d ever want to go back.”

“Well, people in the Central Cities can’t imagine anyone can be safe and secure anywhere else. I used to think the same thing. My thinking was really twisted.”

He brushes a kiss against my hair. “That wasn’t your fault. We know what we’re taught to know, and it’s only experience that sometimes shows us we’ve been wrong.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s right.”

We lie together for a while longer. My mind clears of deeper questions, and I mostly enjoy the feel of his long, firm body beneath mine. His is warm and strong and familiar. He smells good—like Gabriel mingled with the scent of the outdoors. He’s holding me loosely, one of his hands idly rubbing the small of my back.

His parents are gone until evening to help with a regional market day. We were invited, of course, but the alone time was too tempting to miss out on.

I love his family already, but we’ve been in close quarters with them since we arrived. We have our own room, of course,but it shares a wall with his parents. We haven’t had sex since Annabelle caught us in that cabin back in the Central Cities.

I, for one, am getting a little frustrated.

But Gabriel didn’t jump me as soon as they left home this morning. We did a few chores and then took a hike and had a leisurely lunch. Then we settled out here on the grass by the lake to relax for the afternoon.

I was hoping relaxing might mean sex, but he’s made no moves more intentional than pulling me over into a cuddle.

I love cuddling with him. Of course I do. For a long time, I never dreamed it was possible. I never believed he’d open himself up enough to do something so sweet and simple. So emotionally vulnerable.

But I still want to have sex with him. I want it a lot. We were having sex daily back in the palace—usually twice a day—so I’m not sure why he’s suddenly not very interested.

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