Page 140 of The Seeker
“It’s not important now. I’m still processing what being in that creature’s head means.”
He could tell Meera didn’t want to leave it, but she nodded. She’d put it to the side.
For now.
“There’s one more thing we need to do today,” Rhys said. “Before we rejoin the others tomorrow.”
“Only one? That’s not very ambitious.”
Rhys smiled. “We’ll be doing that for the rest of our very long lives. But right now …” He ducked down and kissed her neck. “I am very curious what it was that Ata gave you.”
She perked up. “The present. I’d almost forgotten that. And I love presents.”
Meera climbed out of bed wrapped in a sheet and walked over to the table by the tent doorway. Rhys watched her walk, delighted by the sway of her backside. He’d explored every inch of her body over the previous two days and nights.
He still couldn’t get enough of her.
“I really am extremely fond of your bottom,” he said. “I’m considering an ode.”
She looked over her shoulder. “An ode to my bottom?”
“A song perhaps. Poetry of some kind.”
Meera shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“No, I’m quite serious. If an ode to that bottom doesn’t exist somewhere in Irin memory, it’s a glaring omission in the historical record.”
She bent over—yes, please, and thank you—and retrieved the small leather-wrapped package Ata had given them. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and the sway of her full breasts as she walked back to him had Rhys transfixed.
“You’re staring.” Meera climbed back onto the bed.
“I’m newly mated.” Rhys tugged the sheet away and bent his head to kiss her belly and her breasts. “I’m allowed such indulgence. I only get you to myself for another day.”
She ran a finger through his tangled dark hair. “We’ll make the time. Even if life gets busy, we need time for ourselves.”
“For ourselves. For our families. For our children.” He looked up. “Please tell me you want children.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You, the cynic? Don’t tell me you harbor a soft spot for little ones. I assumed you enjoyed the role of cranky uncle.”
“I adore children,” he said quietly. “Before you, they were the only thing that gave me any kind of hope.”
“Rhys.” She drew him to her shoulder and he rested his head over her heart. The quiet, steady beat that had become the siren song of his life. “I love children and have always imagined becoming a mother when I mated, though I have no idea what I’ll do with them. The singers of Udaipur would be charged with raising them, I imagine.”
“Wewill raise our children,” he said. “The two of us. Others can help, but they’ll not be reared by nannies or guards.”
“Do you know about babies?”
“I am a very accomplished uncle,” he said, trailing a finger around her belly button. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Very well.” She played with his hair. “The heir of Anamitra, changing diapers and cleaning spit-up. Udaipur won’t know what to think.”
He looked up and smiled. “We’ll enjoy turning them on their heads. Now, where is Ata’s package?”
She handed him a leather-wrapped parcel no larger than a deck of cards. Rhys unwrapped the ties holding the bag together and unrolled it.
A plain, chalk-colored stone fell into his hand. It was worn smooth by magic, its seemingly plain surface pulsing with power.
“Uriel’s light,” he said softly.
