Page 59 of Iron Cross

I pulled out the large emerald ring and placed it on my finger.

“You see?” I said, showing him the ring in my hand. The ring that felt as heavy as a ball and fucking chain. “I’m still married. And I always will be.”

Until death.

“I haven’t worn it in years, but…” Every ounce of tragedy existed in this damn ring. “I feel more myself while wearing his ring.”

It still looked beautiful against my skin.

Aaron wiped his hand over his face, as he looked at the blade, then the ring. Did he see the initials and know? Did he realize what it was? Was he one of those people who knew the infamous blades? Had he heard of blood oaths, and a criminal underworld?

He twisted it in his hand, then came to me, placing his free hand on my cheek.

He leaned down, and kissed the stream my tear had made, and then looked deep into my eyes with a level of kindness I didn’t deserve.

“Don’t cry, Kira,” he whispered. “Don't cry, my sweet Muse. I’ll take your pain. I swear it.”

I blinked.

Then waited.

And blinked again, shaking away the sudden deja vu. Or was it a hallucination?

Had I imagined it?

“Wh-what did you just call me?”

Chapter eighteen

Welcome Me Home

Eoghan

Ididn’t care that I had slipped. The charade was over.

I grabbed her face and planted my lips on hers, sucking her air, invading her mouth with my tongue. She struck me on the chest, her fists thumping against my ribs as she tried to push me away. But I didn’t relent. She was mine. She had admitted it.

She and I were one.

I stole the kiss. Just as I had in the museum the first time I had taken her out. Just as I had every time since, when I pulled her to me, vowing to never let go until she was my wife.

It wasn’t really stealing, because it was already mine. She had never been with another man.

I had resigned to forgive her if she had. I had tortured myself with the idea of it, and come to the conclusion that if she was with me, and all of that could be kept in the past during our dark days, then I could forgive her. I could forgive her if she could accept me.

But she hadn’t. She’d been as lonely as me.

Her resolve melted. Her tongue joined mine. The sweet sound of her wanton moan made my cock bounce against my zipper and I pushed my body into hers. As her mind denied what it knew - that I was hers, and she was mine - she resisted. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her to me until I slammed her against the wall, hitching her leg around my waist.

I was ravenous. I was hungry.

I needed her.

Damn my plans. Damn my intentions. I was only human. Mortals can’t resist the call of the goddesses that walk among us.

She tried to pull away but I held her to me, willing her to know who I was. Willing for her to feel me. To see me.To recognize me.

Her lips were tender, moist and salted from her tears. She sniffed, then her lips parted just a stitch. Just enough for my tongue to make its way through and feel the smoothness of her tongue. Past the barrier of her teeth, I could take her breath andswallow her mournful sighs. Her hands crawled up around my neck, and I held her close, ready to take her…

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