Page 138 of Threaded
No more fighting.
“A-and … I love you, too.”
Andrian froze against her, his breath catching in his throat. He shifted, and her entire field of vision was filled with tanzanite hidden behind a watery haze, his breath warm and delicious on her lips.
“You … love me?” He sounded so young; he’d been alive for a decade longer than her, but in that moment, he was just a child, filled with wonder and hope and none of the darkness and pain that shrouded his prior thirty-one years of existence.
She only smiled back at him, let it touch her eyes, hiccupping once as more tears slipped free.
“I do. More than the moons in the sky.”
That was when he kissed her.
They’d kissed each other countless times, but this one … this one felt like the first to really matter. There was that same desperation, that same urgency and feeling that they were living on borrowed time, but there was also hope. Like a caged bird finally set free, the truth of what had long resided in their hearts and souls was out, and it filled Mariah with a weightlessness she couldn’t hope to describe.
Andrian’s hands and lips and skin were warm against hers. Her magic—those beautiful, silver-gold threads she’d missed so much this past week—danced along her skin, coyly twining themselves with the shadows peeling off his own, a perfect match to each other. Her soft gasps filled the air as he lifted her from the counter, whispering words of adoration against her skin she never could’ve imagined coming from his lips as he carried her into the bedroom.
And as they shared something neither of them had ever imagined they would have, Mariah questioned what force could ever call this a weakness.
CHAPTER58
Early morning light woke Andrian from a deep sleep, and he knew he’d never in his life felt so at peace.
It was more than just a feeling of relaxation. It was one of absolute contentment, a quiet, grounded sensation. Something that felt almost like …happiness.
It was all entirely foreign to him. He’d spent so much of his life fighting this feeling, refusing to believe it was ever something he could have. And thenshehad stepped out of that carriage and into his life, and right then, deep down, he’d known. He’d fought it, resisted it with every fiber of his being, but he knew she could bring him the soul-deep joy he’d always so desperately craved.
And there, in her massive, soft bed, the feeling of her sleeping form pressed against his side was fuckingeverything.
It only took a few soft strokes through her hair, down her body, over the rise and fall of her curves for Andrian to slowly wake her. The soft noises she’d made, still heavy and languid from sleep, had nearly driven him mad. Eventually, when his hands dipped lower, stroking the sensitive skin between her thighs and finding her already drenched, his instincts had taken over completely. He’d pushed into her, gently but still claiming, and had lazily fucked her as the sun continued to rise over the horizon. Her breathless gasps hissed against the silk sheets, and in that perfect slice of heaven he’d coaxed her body into release, following her quickly into perfect oblivion.
They now stood in her bright kitchen, the white marble blinding in the weak winter sun, the space warmed by the furnace blazing in the living room. Andrian, now dressed in his favorite black cotton pants, had sent Mikael scurrying from the kitchen with a pointed stare just as Mariah emerged from her room, wearing nothing but his black button-down shirt. It was large on her, but she was tall, with the hem hitting just below the curve of her ass, the long lengths of her legs on full display.
The sight of her, sleepy and mussed and wearing his clothes, filled him with a ridiculous sort of feral, male satisfaction.
It was a sight he had no interest in sharing with anyone that morning, not even the friendly, jovial chef who he wassurewasn’t interested.
She’d taken a seat on one of the barstools at the island, the hem of that tunic rising dangerously higher. He didn’t even bother hiding his heated stare, his cock twitching even as he started gathering the ingredients for breakfast. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched that incredible flush creep across her olive skin, smirking softly as he cracked eggs into a bowl with one hand before adding milk, melted butter, and a dash of vanilla. He then mixed some baking flour and sugar together in a separate bowl before adding it all together, the batter thick and bubbling. Mikael had thankfully already set up a pour-over carafe of freshly ground Vathan coffee on the counter and a kettle on the range, and it started to whistle just when he finished whisking together the batter. Andrian stepped away from the mixing bowl and poured the boiling water over the grounds, the instant aroma intoxicating as coffee began to drip into the carafe. Once full, he pulled two mugs from a cabinet and filled them before handing one to Mariah. She took a ginger sip, the liquid still hot, before eyeing him and speaking.
“What are you making?”
Andrian glanced at her once, schooling his features to hide his thoughts before reaching up to where he’d seen Mikael hide the contraption he sought. His fingers brushed the cast iron, and with a soft grunt he hauled it out from the cabinet and set it onto the counter, connecting thelunestairchain to the adapter on the wall. Only then did he finally turn back around to face Mariah, his amusement slipping through his mask at her astonished expression.
“Waffles? You’re making me waffles? From scratch?” Her eyes shone with an emotion still so foreign to Andrian—to both of them—it nearly dropped him to his knees once again.
Love. That’s what filled her expression and those incredible forest green eyes. No point in denying it now.
Andrian smiled softly back at her, trying to put everything he wanted to say, everything that’d taken his entire soul to voice last night, into his gaze before he turned back to his task. He added butter to the now-hot iron and poured the batter into the crevices. He closed it shut, flipped it, and clicked a switch on the side of the device.
“I have a question for you,” he said, turning back around and leaning against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. He knew he didn’t want to ask what was on his mind, but he also realized he had to or else he would combust.
Mariah perked up instantly. “What is it?”
He heaved a breath. “Is Sebastian still going to stand in as your consort tonight?”
There it was. The question lingering in the darkest recesses of his mind since he’d awoken that morning. Because, of course, while she’d admitted to things that made his own heart stop … surely, none of it would change anything for her when it came to this, her very first public appearance as the Queen of Onita. Or, at least, the queen in every way that mattered.
Surely, she wouldn’t ruin her perfectly laid plans just for him.