Page 77 of Wrathful King
The lump in my throat grew. Tremors rolled over my skin and the ringing in my ears got louder as invisible fingers clutched at me. My heart sped up, thundering in my chest, and each beat drove a wave of panic through me.Calm down, my brain whispered, but memories suffocated, touching me with their bony hands.
He must have sensed my panic in the way my lips stopped responding, in the way my fingernails dug into his shoulders. He pulled away, putting distance between us. Just enough to let my demons scatter.
“I’m sorry.”
His lips brushed over my nose. “We’ll take it slow.”
* * *
“Grandma’s groveling and it’s so much fun to watch.”
I laughed at Papà’s smug tone. I’d been gone only three days, but he managed to force Grandma on a flight to escort her back to England.
Right back into Grandpa Glasgow’s arms.
“Did he forgive her?”
He chuckled. “I think he will, but he’s making her work for it.”
“Good.” Grandma had to stop going through husbands like they were a commodity. Grandpa Glasgow loved her and she loved him. They were good together. “Anything from Phoenix?”
“No, but I know she’s okay. In my bones, I know it.” Maybe it made no sense, but I found comfort in his assurance. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Really good.”
“Amon treating my baby girl right?” My cheeks heated. Amon sat on the sofa next to me, his attention on his laptop even though I was certain he was listening in on my conversation. The library on the lower deck was our go-to place, and I loved how timeless it felt, no matter where in the world we were.
“He is.” We slept in the same bed. We shared kisses. We touched. I had been exploring his body and enjoying his touch more than ever before, actually. We hadn’t gone further than that, but with each passing minute, hour, and day, I felt the old flames igniting and the need for him rising.
Feeling my eyes on him, he raised his head. The heat in his eyes flared.
Leaning forward, I kissed him softly, hoping he knew how much he meant to me. I’d been trying to take the time each day to be thankful for the good things in my life, for him. His hand dove into my hair, his hold turning savage and possessive. But he pulled away too soon.
He tugged my hair gently. “Your papà’s on the phone,” he mouthed softly.
“Reina, you there?” Papà’s voice came in promptly.
“Yes, sorry. I was…” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I was thinking.” Amon let out a soft snort and my hand slapped him on his bicep. “Stop it,” I mouthed, grinning and turning my body away from him. “How are you feeling, Papà?”
“Not bad. I’m strong, taking care of myself. I don’t want you to worry about anything,” Papà continued, oblivious to what was going on in the middle of the ocean on a yacht with the boy I fell in love with almost two decades ago. “Not Grandma. Not Phoenix. Not me.”
I sighed. “I’ll try to, but it’d be easier if we knew where Phoenix was.”
Amon returned his attention to his laptop, ruling the world from a little device.
“She isfine. Now, tell me how the honeymoon is and where you’re headed next.”
“Greece. Not sure after that.” A wide smile spread across my face. Our honeymoon had barely started, but so far, the days had been dreamy. I hadn’t even needed to check in with Dr. Freud, though knowing her number was programmed into my phone offered ample comfort.
We docked each day and walked around, checking out the nearby ports. We talked. We swam. We dreamed, talked about the future. My artistic streak flared and I poured it onto the paper. “We’re about to have dinner, so I’ll let you go. I’ll text you what comes after Greece.”
After a few more moments, we said our goodbyes and my gaze found Amon’s again.
Silence.
It stretched between us for a second before he set his laptop aside and pulled me closer to him, tenderly tracing my jaw with his thumb. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
