Page 144 of Reign of Light
His lips press into my shoulder again, and he mutters against my skin. “It’s not my decision, my queen. But I will shoulder the burdenfor you time and time again, for as many stars as there are in the sky so you never have to feel the way you felt today.”
I suck in a sharp breath and swallow down the lump in my throat. “I don’t think there’s a path I can choose where I wouldn’t feel that way.”
The muscles in his arms ripple as leans back, pulling me along with him until I’m settled against his chest with my head in the crook of his neck.
“We have time,” he says. “We don’t need to decide tonight. Lyla has held on this long, we can look at all the possibilities.”
I don’t respond, because he must know that I’ve been analyzing the possibilities since the moment he left me alone, and I’m just as lost as I was when I heard the reminder from the island.
The deafening silence settles into a comfortable one, and I close my eyes, just breathing and feeling. The heat from the water, the firmness of his body, the safety and protection in his arms.
I try not to think, but with the gravity of this choice and all the new ones that have come up, I can’t get this thought out of my mind.
“We have to find all the others. We have to bring them back so they can try too.”
“I agree,” he grumbles.
I swallow hard. “Only you can do that.” My voice is barely a whisper, and, despite my effort, cracks on the last word.
He releases a deep sigh.
“I know.”
Weston’s hold on me doesn’t loosen as we sit in the cooling water and listen to the comforting sounds of the ship. My muscles still feel taut despite the work of his powerful hands, and my chest is as full of turmoil as it was before.
I don’t want to cry anymore. I want to be strong, even though I feel anything but. More than anything, I just want to escape the prison of my mind and fate, even if it is just for a little while. I want to feel whole, and safe, and loved.
Because it might be the last time I ever do.
Squeezing my eyes shut, a single tear escapes one corner.
“I need you to love me,” I whisper softly.
He shifts behind me, sitting us upright and sending the water cascading over the sides of the tub as he turns my body until I’m facing him. Taking my face in his hands, I can barely meet his eyes because the earnestness I find there feels like a dagger to my chest.
“Lennox, I do love you. I love you with every part of me, to the depths of my soul. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my short and long life. More than my mother, my father, my best friend, my family here. You gave me purpose, and hope for a life that I thought was well over. I will never stop loving you, never stop showing you that you are mine, and that I would do anything for you, in any time, any place. You don’t need me to love you, because I already do, and no matter how many more challenges we face, that will never change.”
My face crumbles at his words, and I drop my chin to my chest to try to hide it. I can’t contain the sob that built up inside me the longer he spoke, and the mangled sound punctuates the quiet room.
His reassurance is exactly the problem. Deep in my soul, I know he means every word. I know he loves me, the same as he knows I love him. And it’s exactly why this choice is tearing me apart piece by piece.
“I know you do,” I say, my words mangled by the effort it is taking not to break into another fit of tears. “That’s not what I mean.”
I lift my chin to meet his gaze, only to find him watching me, his face pleading for me to believe his words. His eyes take in my tears, my swollen eyes, my quivering lips.
“Then tell me what you mean, sweetheart.”
My limbs tremble as I reach out and settle my hands at the curve of his neck, stroking his skin with one thumb. My eyes dart down to his mouth, before meeting those beautiful teal depths again. “I need you to love me.”
He doesn’t hesitate, only leans in and presses the softest brush of a kiss to my lips.
“I will do anything for you, my queen.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Heat smolders in his eyes, but the way Weston looks at me is with more than just desire. Rivulets of water cascade down his naked flesh, splashing into the tub as he grips both sides and stands. His movements aren’t hasty, they’re purposeful as he steps over the side, toweling off before reaching his hands out to help me to my feet.
Weston never wants to see me in pain, and he knows that what I’ve asked for is the only balm that will soothe the wounds that are actively bruising and bleeding my heart. He never makes me wait, or makes me question whether or not he wants to touch me or be with me, but this time feels different. Each touch and caress is reverent and unhurried, but enough that I’m not left feeling empty.
