Page 17 of Christmas With The Kings
“Yes, Master.”
The line went dead. I let the phone fall from my fingers. The silence that followed felt thick and sacred. The air had changed around Bash and me. I recognized it for what it was. Another step, another bond of my heart and soul to these men.
Sebastian didn’t say a word. He simply lay down beside me, his large frame moving with an ease I didn’t have in that moment. He tugged me into his arms, opening a mental space for me. And I stepped into it. Wholeheartedly.
Nestled against his bare chest, I let myself come apart. He could handle it. My body, still warm and tingling, clung to his as the first sob broke loose. He didn’t speak, but held me tighter, his arms solid and secure, one hand splayed across my back, the other brushing through my hair.
I cried and pieces of my soul broke free in his arms. He made me feel so safe and secure in that moment. Loved in a way that didn’t need words or promises or perfect understanding.
“Happy Christmas,” I whispered, breath catching.
He chuckled under his breath. Low and rich. “Only you,” he murmured.
I buried my face in his chest to hide my smile—half embarrassed, half overwhelmed. His skin was warm beneath my cheek, his heartbeat steady and calming.
“Let’s not pretend you haven’t wanted to spank my ass from the moment I moved in.”
“Moved in? Try even earlier than that. I’d say since before hell week.”
“Ah, yes. Hell week.” I sighed heavily. “We’ve come far, haven’t we?”
“Yes, tiny tot. We have,” he crooned, tightening his arms around me.
It was the first gift of Christmas. My not so reluctant executioner turned interim teddy bear—pressing soft, light kisses on the top of my head like he’d done this a thousand times.
“You did real good,” he said eventually, so quietly I strained to hear him.
I didn’t answer, but curled tighter into him, soaking in the warmth, the protection, the calm after the storm. We might be a strange family, built on blood and trauma and bindings invisible to everyone else—but we werea familyall the same. And in this moment, I wouldn’t trade a damn thing for it.
Then my thoughts drifted—because that’s what they did when I was raw like this, stripped open and floating between too many emotions and raw clarity. They shifted to the man holding me. His palm moved in slow, rhythmic strokes over my back, tracing soothing, mindless patterns. But I knew him.
Nothing this man did was truly mindless. Every touch was purposeful. Every moment of silence was him letting me have space, without actually letting me be alone.If I concentrated long enough, I could almost spell out the words he was absentmindedly marking on my back.
So I did. And my heart cracked a little more. He completed it and started it once more, spelling out not only a word, but an entire message.
I love you, tiny tot.
He didn’t think he would ever love again. He still let the tragedy of his past torment him. Define what he could and couldn’t have in this life. He walked around like a man with blood on his hands and no one left to absolve him.
It shook me to think about. Especially when I compared it to the love I felt for my men. I could understand the depths of his devotion—his devastation.
I swallowed thickly, a sudden wave of emotion hitting me all over again. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes, quiet and unannounced. What I wouldn’t give to take his pain away?
He stiffened, his touch pausing for a second. “You’re crying again,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered, voice shaking.
He angled his head, eyes flicking down to study my face. “Did I go too far?”
I blinked up at him and shook my head quickly. “No. God, no. It’s not that. You followed the rules. I know the rules. I could’ve used my safe word with you. I didn’t need or want to.”
He didn’t respond right away. He brushed his knuckles along my cheek, as if clearing the trail of salt away.
“I’m okay,” I added, firmer this time. “Iam.It’s…all of this. You, this moment—it’s made me feel so much.”
He exhaled quietly, his gaze still searching, still waiting to be sure. And I offered him a small smile. Then, true to form, my mind flipped the script. Again.
Maybe…maybe I could find him someone. The perfect sub. Someone strong and brave and a little unhinged in the best way. Someone who could see him the way I did—as more than grief and ghosts. As a man worthy of the same kind of all-consuming, reckless love I had in spades.
