Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (63 page)

There'd been so much loss, and in such a short amount of time. Death had surprised me in that way. It seemed to me that a person's life was this great and monumental thing, built out of experiences and relationships and achievements, and it took Death only one second to snatch it all away. It just wasn't fair.

Alex continued recounting his journey. Somewhere in the middle of it, he remembered he had Nightshade. He pulled it from his boot and handed it to me, hilt first. I looked it over for a moment, tracing my finger along the flat of the blade. Knowing what I knew now, about Myez, I felt a deeper connection it. I set it gently on the nightstand, Alex finished his story, and then I shared mine. I started back at the beginning, the moment I'd left him in Karth, and he listened intently the entire time. Still, I felt his jealousy as I spoke about Danton, and that jealousy spiked when I told him about my private dinner with Danton.

"You're upset," I said. "Alex, I swear nothing else—"

"You don't need to explain yourself." He rubbed his thumb inside my palm. "I know I have no right to be jealous. It's just that…you are all I've ever wanted, and I'm so tired of living in a world that would give you to him but never to me."

We sat there looking at each other—just looking at each other, and yet somehow it was more intimate than any kiss we'd ever shared.

"Anyway, I interrupted you," he said, squeezing my hand. "You were saying Danton told you to bypass Bristol…?"

"Yes…" And I continued telling him my journey, about Lord Cethin and Myez—he was surprised about Myez's history—and then all my time in the Shadowvale. I told him about my dream or vision or whatever it was. He chewed on his bottom lip again, making the slight dent in his chin more pronounced.

"I don't understand what it means, Alex. I don't know how I'm supposed to be prepared or what to do. If I'd only had the vision once, I'd dismiss it, but that's not the case."

"I have no idea what it means, either," he said. "But that's what makes visions so dangerous. They're convoluted and obscure, and if you live your life chasing them, you'll go mad. I know it's hard, but you have to try to put it out of your mind."

"I know. You're right." I kept talking, and when I finished, he was quiet for a very long time, though his thumb kept making circles on the inside of my palm.

"How long have you known?" I asked. "That you were a…
the
prince?"

"I've suspected for quite a while, but I didn't know for certain till that night in Karth when Nexus brought you back to me. It's hard to explain…" His jaw worked. "You know how I can feel what you're feeling?"

"Yes…?"

"You were unconscious, but I could feel the dragon through you. I know it probably sounds insane."

"Not really." I grinned.

He grinned back and tucked my hair behind my ear. "I could feel his recognition and…Daria, I swear I heard him talking in my head, but it was muddled and a little convoluted, and then I got this bloody migraine."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"So you can hear him in your mind? That's how you're communicating?"

"Yes."

"Can he hear all of your thoughts?"

"Yes…as long as I'm nearby," I replied. "I can speak to him over distances if I really try, but I've never tried much farther than a few miles."

"That sounds…invasive."

"You have no idea. Er, maybe you do…" I laughed.

He gave me that smile I loved so much, and then he continued. "Anyway, your dragon recognized me as the Estroian heir, and I couldn't get that certainty out of my mind. Do you remember any of that night? I wondered if you did, but when you finally woke, you didn't say anything, so I thought maybe you hadn't heard or felt any of it."

I shook my head. "When I try to think back on it, it's vague. My memories are a jumble…some of them are mine, some of them are Nexus's. At least, I think they're his. I remember him seeing you standing there, but then I get confused with my own feelings of seeing you there." I hesitated. "Why didn't you tell me who you were sooner?"

"I don't know." His eyes moved distractedly around my face. "I think I was still processing it and what it might mean, because I knew that if I acknowledged the truth that I would have to do something, and I was afraid. It was losing you that made me accept it—the moment you decided to go to Danton."

"But why didn't you tell me that night on the veranda? I never would've left."

The look in his eyes was disarming. "Because I was afraid of failing and losing you forever. I needed to see that I could do this first. I needed to see that I could deserve it—deserve
you
, and I didn't want to give you hope and then let you down by failing. In hindsight, I probably should've told you, but at the time it seemed right to keep it to myself because I was still figuring out how to…become a prince."

I rubbed my thumb against his. "So…does this mean I need to start calling you your majesty?"

He squeezed my hand. "No."

"Your worship?" I teased.

His eyes narrowed. "How is it I didn't realize you and Thaddeus were related before?"

I laughed. "By the way, I
am
glad to see you two getting along."

"
Tolerating
," he corrected, holding up his index finger for emphasis, which I pulled to my mouth and kissed. Then he reached out and combed his hand through my hair, taming a few of the unruly wisps. "I meant to say something earlier, but I haven't seen your hair this short since I chopped off your braid."

"Yes, well, this cut has a similar story in that it was entirely unintentional, only this one involves fire and a dragon."

He chuckled and leaned a little closer, holding his smile and my hair. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

I smiled and leaned closer to him. "You think so?"

"Always." His hand slid to my neck, to the chain he'd given me. "You kept it."

"Of course I did. It was all I had of you."

He trailed his fingertips along my collarbone, and my skin tingled where he touched me. My entire body suddenly flushed from his attention, and then his finger stopped moving when he noticed the edge of my tattoo. He inclined his head to me. "Since when?"

"Since a month ago. I asked Myez to do it for me while I was recovering from my sprain."

A pause. "May I see it?" he asked.

"Um…sure." I felt a little awkward taking off my leather top and sitting there in my bandeaux. I'd done it for Myez so that he could draw the tattoo, but that was different. That was like sitting by your father in your bikini top. With Alex, I just felt naked, especially with the way he looked at me as I took off my shirt. I angled myself a little away, suddenly aware of every movement I made and every blink of my eye, the way my fingers fumbled with the ties. Once it was off, Alex took it from my hands and tossed it on the bed over his own shirt. His fingertips trailed slowly from my shoulder blade, tracing the swirls and patterns over the edge of my collarbone and down my arm. His touch was so intimate, as if he were burning the pattern into my skin all over again, and I felt his touch everywhere.

"These are…names?" he asked softy. "In the old language?"

"Yes," I said, losing myself in the feel of his fingertips. "They're the names of my family."

He traced a swirl that wrapped around my shoulder blade. "You said Myez did this for you?"

"Yes," I said. "He has one on his arm that represents his family, and I liked it so much I asked if he could draw one for me."

His eyes traced the patterns, and I felt as if he was touching me all over again. "So beautiful," he whispered. I didn't think he was just talking about the patterns.

He looked up at me, then, and the green in his eyes turned so dark it looked almost brown. And then we were kissing. They were soft kisses, slow and sweet and tender, tasting and delighting in the fact that we were finally together, that we were finally alone. His lips were chapped but warm, and his tongue tasted lightly of mint as it pushed against mine. I loved kissing Alex. His kisses made me feel alive. His kisses set me on fire. I slid my hands in his hair as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in his lap. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and then the kisses changed. They grew harder and longer and ravenous, his heart beating wildly against my fingertips. I moved my hands down his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles in his back shift and flex as he held me tight, so tight. But not tight enough. It was never tight enough.

I moved against him, and his desire flared hot. His hands squeezed down my waist, such large, strong hands that were also surprisingly gentle—hands that made me feel small and delicate and protected. His hands continued squeezing down my legs, and then I eased him down, careful not to disrupt the bandages on his arm, the mattress shifting as he lay with me down on the bed. His kisses grew even deeper and longer, and then his mouth moved to my jaw, down my neck and along my collarbone, leaving burning trails everywhere his lips touched. Our hands were everywhere, touching and memorizing and holding, but there was still too much space. No matter how tangled our legs, or how tightly we held and gripped and pulled, I could not get close enough. I wanted to be closer. I needed to be closer. I needed
him
, and by the fire burning inside of him, I knew he needed me, too.

His desire wrapped around me tight, intoxicating and beautiful, raw and unfiltered, and his lips teased along the edge of my bandeaux. I squeezed my legs around his waist and moved against him again, to let him know that it was okay. That I wanted this, too—that I wanted him. Needed him. He kissed his way back to my mouth, his hand sliding up my side to my bandeaux, but it stopped there. He wasn't making a move to take it off. I grabbed his hand and guided it around me to help him slide it off.

"Daria."

I bit his bottom lip and he moaned against my mouth. His desire turned blinding and I started sliding my top off.

"Daria." There was a different quality to my name this time. One that wanted my attention, and now he was holding tight to my hand, making sure I didn't slide my top any farther. "Love." He lightly kissed my jaw and the little space beneath my ear.

I pulled back just enough to look into his huge eyes. "Is it your arm?" I asked. I'd been so careful not to hurt his arm, but maybe I'd missed his pain over my own overwhelming passion for him.

"No." He smiled against my mouth and kissed me again, but this kiss was lighter. Dimmer and fading. He stroked the hair back from my face, then trailed his fingers along my jaw and cupped my chin before gazing deeply into my eyes. "I want to wait."

I stared back, my chest still heaving with impassioned breath. "Wait?"

He lightly kissed my mouth again before gazing back into my eyes. "I want to marry you first."

There were two thoughts I had then. First was that he wanted to marry me. The very idea of it made my heart swell and swell and swell until it felt as if it might explode from my chest. The second thought I had—which was more of a question—was why on Earth did he want to wait? We loved each other now. So why couldn't we…
now
?

His gaze slid over my face, searching and somehow touching me again. "Is that…not what you want?" he asked so quietly, his confusion bubbling through my impassioned feelings. "If marriage is too soon, I'll wait for you," he whispered. "As long as you need."

I moved my hands into his hair as I gazed back into his eyes. Such loving eyes. "I love you, Alex, and the thought of marrying you is nothing short of a dream. But I don't understand why you want to wait for
this
." I squeezed my legs around him.

He smiled and trailed his thumb along my jaw. "Because I want to make a covenant with you first."

"I don't need a covenant to know you're committed."

"But I want to give you one." The love in his eyes held me still. "I want to do right by you. I always want to do right by you—respect you. Gaia knows I've almost gotten carried away with you on more than one occasion, but…you mean so much more to me than right now, than this moment." His fingertips tickled along my waistline. "Yes, I want this. I want this so badly it hurts, but…I want to respect you. I always want to respect you, and that starts now, when it's hardest. I want to show you I at least have
some
self-control. I want to show you that you can trust me to love you and protect your honor, always. I don't want to take anything from you without giving you everything I am first, and to me that means giving you my word, through a covenant, like marriage. You have always been my reason for everything, and I won't stop fighting for you for as long as I live. And that includes fighting for your honor
now
."

For a long time I lay there gazing up into his eyes. Such beautiful eyes full of so much love and tenderness and respect. I was still very aware of his body against mine, the heat of it burning against my skin. I still wanted him, and by the tingling sensation in my legs, my body still wanted him, too. It disappointed me he'd said no—again—but it also flattered me, that he was this concerned about respecting me—especially when his desire burned as much as mine. And as much as I didn't want to admit it to myself, and even though I didn't have any real trust issues where he was concerned, the fact that he exhibited this sort of self-restraint—for me—made me trust and admire and love him even more.

"Do you understand?" he whispered.

"I do, but…how are you so…so
good
all the time?"

He smiled, twirling a clump of my hair. "You make it sound like a bad thing."

I smiled and grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips, then kissed his fingers. "It's not bad. Just frustrating at times."

He leaned forward and brushed his nose against mine. "And how do you know I'm not the one who's scared to death you'll run off right after I give you what you want? Maybe
I
need a commitment."

I laughed at that, and then he smiled and leaned closer, his breath mixing with mine. "Will you marry me, Daria?"