Chapter 31 31
Chapter 31 31
CHAPTER 31
Eudora's POV
The explosion was inspected and found to be some minor attack brought into check; so it is back to Oberon's chamber with me. My feet were heavy and exhaustion was tugging at every muscle. But beyond that, I found myself angry.
Frustrated by the constant interruptions. By the unceasing threats and crises. By the fact that every time Oberon and I actually made an attempt to have a moment alone, something blew up or someone attacked us or the entire world was looming over our shoulders, demanding its due.
All I craved was to be in his presence. To complete what we had begun. To seal the tie that tugged at me all day long.
We had been so close. At long last, ready to take that leap. To make our marriage real in every way. And then the explosion had blown us apart once more.
Now the moment felt lost. The vulnerability and rawness were gone, replaced by duty and exhaustion.
I found Oberon standing at the window, his back as straight and hard as iron. He remained shirtless, the glass cuts etched across his shoulders. They were already in recovery, but it was a slow process.
"Is everyone safe?" I asked quietly.
He nodded without turning. “Everything is but damage to the east wing. No casualties. Yamal has it handled. It was just a diversion, meant to draw our attention away from the temple.”
There was an awkward silence between us. After all we had confessed, after such openness and vulnerability to one another, the interruption introduced a barrier. Had brought us all back to reality and duty.
“I believe we should rest,” Oberon said tonelessly. Controlled. "Tomorrow will be demanding. We have to pull everything together for the temple.”
I was overcome with a wave of disappointment. "Right. Of course."
I started making my way toward the door to go. To walk back to my own chambers and weep in private over what we had nearly been.
"Where are you going?" Oberon's voice made me stay where I was, too sharp with something I couldn't place.
"To my chambers. You said we should rest." I didn’t want to turn around then, thinking he would see the tears welling up in my eyes.
“I told you to rest, not go away.
At last he met me, and the warmth of his golden gaze shoved a silent gasp from my breast. They were not mere desires; they were both wishes —as in things one wishes for — and then something more. Something that made my pulse race.
"Stay," he said simply. "Sleep here. In my bed. Where you belong."
He didn't sound like he was making demands. No command. Just quiet longing. Just need.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he added, walking over to me. "I just want to hold you. To wake up with you next to me. To hear that you are safe and near.”
I couldn’t speak past the emotion that had my throat in a vise, only nodded.
We undressed each other, down to our underwear. Every touch was charged but gentle. Not hurried or frantic; as before. Just intimate. Personal.
Oberon's fingers were soft as he undid the laces of my dress. I tugged his pants down over his hips, not wishing to gape at the tight lines of his body.
When it was time to slide into bed together, Oberon placed me between his chest. I lay down there instinctively, my head on the middle of his chest. Listening to its steady rhythm. Feeling his warmth surround me.
"Let me hear about your mother," said Oberon in a gentle tone, disturbing the prevailing quiet.
The request surprised me. "Why?"
“‘Cause I want to know everything about you,” he said, trailing his fingers in idle patterns across my back. “Not just the pain and the politics. But the good parts too. The things that made you who you are.”
I was talking, sharing memories I hadn’t thought about in years. Memories I buried because they were too painful.
My mother's laugh. Bright and melodic, they filled whichever room she was in. The singing as she braided my hair each morning, old songs in languages I didn’t understand. How she’d sneak me pastries before dinner, complicit with me in my father’s restrictions.
The stories she told. About powerful women who changed the world. These were stories about witches who protected their people. Of queens who were powerful and compassionate.
“She would tell me I was special,” I added softly. “That I had a gift, even if I hadn’t had a wolf. That my differences were my power, not my weakness.”
Oberon heard him out without speaking; his fingers never stopped their subtle movements. "She sounds wonderful."
"She was." I took a hard swallow against the grief. "She would have liked you."
"Even though I murdered her husband?” The question was careful, testing.
“I considered this. She knew the man my father was when I didn’t. I believe she did it to save me from him. To protect me from the dark for as long at he could.”
I glanced up at Oberon. “She would have gotten why you did what you did. Would have recognized the justice in it.”
His arms encased me in an embrace that pressed me even closer. "I am sorry you lost her. I apologize that my revenge cost you someone you loved.”
We paused for a moment and lay there quietly, just breathing together. That’s when I finally worked up the nerve to ask the question that has haunted me.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything," he said immediately.
"Do you still see him when you look at me? My father?"
Oberon's hand cupped my face, turning me so I had to look into his eyes. "No," he said firmly. "I see you, Eudora. Only you. Your strength. Your compassion. Your ridiculous stubbornness."
In spite of myself, in spite of the moment’s solemnity, I smiled. "My stubbornness is not ridiculous."
“It totally is,” he said, but he was smiling as well. A genuine smile that reached his eyes. “And it’s one of my favorite things about you.”
Now our faces were close, breath mixing in the small area between us. “Why, you’d like to know what your favorite things are next.” I whispered.
Oberon's thumb brushed over my lower lip, and electricity sizzled through me at the touch. "Your courage. Like how you didn't flinch at Ruminants. Without being afraid even when you were terrified.”
His lips brushed mine softly. "Your kindness. And showing kindness to even Esmeralda and she did nothing to earn it. When she had attempted to kill you.”
Another gentle kiss. “How you make me pray harder than I scream. More than my need for revenge. You make me want to deserve you.”
I kissed him right then and there, long and deep. Everything that I was feeling, in my soul at that time. This time it wasn’t desperate. No rush. Only us, finally safe and alone.
Oberon flipped us over so that now he was over me, his weight a nice addition and right amount for my current state. His hands ran up my sides and I shivered in anticipation.
"I need you," I breathed onto his lips. "I want all of you, Oberon. Now. Please."
The desire grew in his eyes, pupils dilating. But I also saw hesitation. Concern. "Are you sure? Not for anything in the world. Sam, after tonight, after Esmeralda died…..”
I pulled him nearer as my legs encircled his hips. His hardness pressing into me through the flimsy material separating us. “My only regret will be if we wait too long. If we let the world continue to impose interruptions upon what both of us desire.”
He lowered his mouth to my neck, planting soft nips and kisses over the sensitive flesh. His hand was inching up my thigh, moving fabric to the side.
As his fingers brushed against the waistband of my underthings, just as I instinctively pushed up into his caress with a soft sigh, there was a loud rapping at the door.
"No," I whispered desperately. "Please no."
"Your Grace," Yamal shouted with urgency. "I apologize for the interruption. I realize the timing is atrocious. But there’s someone here to do that with you now. The person who purports to have information on the princess’s cure. It is urgent."
Oberon snarled with frustration into my neck and his vibrations shivered through me. “Why is there anything more important than this?”
"It is Morgana," Yamal continued. "The Alpha has returned. And she insists on bringing Princess Eudora home to her pack. The palace is too dangerous, she says; she won’t go without her niece.”