Chapter 143 My Everything
Damien
She’s draped across my chest like she was made to fit there, her cheek pressed to my skin, her breath slow and even now that the storm between us has quieted. The steam has mostly drifted away, leaving only faint, fragrant wisps curling around our limbs. My dragon hums deep inside, sated and smug, but the man in me is still reeling. She said yes. She said yes, and then she let me take her apart under the stars, and now she’s here, trusting me with every fragile inch of her. I don’t move yet. I just hold her, one arm banded around her waist, the other hand threading gently through her hair. Her body is still flushed, skin warm from my fire, but I can feel the faint chill returning beneath it—the ice that lives in her veins already creeping back, claiming her again. It makes me want to wrap her tighter, to keep her warm until the sun rises and she no longer needs me to. But she will always need me, and I will always need her. I shift carefully, easing us both upright so she doesn’t startle. She murmurs something soft and incoherent, lashes fluttering, but doesn’t wake fully. She’s exhausted, and I intend to make sure she rests properly. I reach for the thick wool throw draped over the back of the bench—one I’d placed earlier, just in case—and pull it around her shoulders. The fabric is soft, dark blue, the colour of midnight sky. It settles over her like a second skin, and she sighs, nestling closer.
“Easy,” I whisper against her temple. “I’ve got you.”
She doesn’t answer, but her fingers curl into my chest, right over the place where my heart beats too hard for her. I press a kiss to the crown of her head, lingering there, breathing her in. Frost clings to her hair like tiny diamonds, sparkling in the dying candlelight. I brush them away gently, watching them melt against my fingertips. The gazebo is quiet now, save for the soft crackle of candles and the distant chirp of night insects. The stars are still out, brighter than they have any right to be, as if they’ve been watching us all along and decided we were worth the show. My dragon preens at the thought. I ease her off my lap long enough to stand, then scoop her up again—blanket and all. She’s light in my arms, always has been, but tonight she feels precious in a way that makes my throat tight. I carry her across the courtyard, bare feet silent on the cool stone path. The castle looms ahead, its towers dark against the paling sky, but the great doors are open just enough for me to slip inside with her. The halls are dim, lit only by the low-burning sconces that line the walls. I move through them like a shadow, my steps measured, her weight a steady comfort against my chest. She stirs once, nuzzling closer, and I press my lips to her forehead.
“Almost there, love.”
I head towards our chambers and shoulder the door open, careful not to jar her. I carry her straight through the bedroom to the adjoining bath. The room is warm already from the fires banked low in our room. I set her gently on the wide marble bench beside the tub, keeping the blanket tucked around her. She blinks up at me, eyes heavy and soft, a small smile curving her lips.
“Damien…”
“Shh.” I brush a thumb over her cheek. “Let me take care of you.”
I turn to the taps and twist them open. Hot water gushes out, steam rising in thick, comforting clouds. I add a handful of salts and watch the water turn faintly blue, the scent blooming through the room. When the tub is half-full, I test the temperature with my wrist. Perfect. Not too hot for her chilled blood, but warm enough to ease the ache I know she’s feeling. I return to her side and kneel, peeling the blanket away slowly. She shivers as the air hits her skin, so I pull her into my arms again, skin to skin, letting my heat seep into her.
“Better?”
She nods against my shoulder. “Much.”
I lift her once more and lower her into the water. She sighs as it envelops her, head tipping back against the curved edge. I kneel beside the tub, sleeves rolled up, and reach for the soft sponge and soap. The lather is gentle, scented with the same lavender, and I start at her shoulders, working in slow circles. Down her arms, across her collarbone, careful around the marks my mouth left earlier that are reddened now, but fading. She watches me with half-lidded eyes, trust absolute.
“You don’t have to do this,” she murmurs.
“I want to.” I meet her gaze. “I want to do this for my wife”
She reaches up, fingers tracing my jaw. “I love you.”
My chest tightens. “And I you. More than anything.”
I move lower, washing her breasts with the same reverence, then between her thighs. She tenses briefly, then relaxes when my touch remains light and soothing. I rinse her carefully, letting the water carry away the last traces of our passion. When she’s clean, I help her stand and wrap her in a thick, heated towel from the warming rack. She leans into me, letting me dry her with gentle pats, never hurried. In the bedroom, I guide her to the wardrobe and pull out one of my shirts—soft linen that's too big for her, but she loves wearing them. I slip it over her head, sleeves falling past her hands. She laughs quietly as I roll them up, then helps me button it, her fingers lingering on my chest.
“Better than any nightgown,” she says.
I smile. “Agreed.”
I lead her to the bed and pull back the covers. She slides in with a contented hum, the mattress dipping under her weight. I follow, pulling her close, tucking the blankets around us both.
She nestles against my chest, one leg thrown over mine. “Stay with me forever?”
“Always.”
I stroke her hair, slow and steady, feeling her body finally relax completely. Her breathing evens out, deepening into sleep. I keep watch a little longer—watching the way candlelight plays across her face, the way frost no longer clings to her skin because my fire keeps it at bay. My queen. My mate. My Wife. My everything. I press one last kiss to her temple, then let my own eyes close. She said yes.