Page 20 of Obsidian Throne

“Our room,” I told her.

“I just assumed we would move into your rooms,” she said, looking up at me.

I could usually read her fairly well, but her tone wasn’t betraying whether she was disappointed or merely curious.

“These are bigger,” I said evenly. Then, forcing myself to give her more truth than that, I admitted, “I thought...we could use a new start. In a space that’s ours.”

At least, I could.

I didn’t want to stay in the rooms where I had spent two months after she left wondering if I would ever see her again. The rooms where I had almost watched her die.

Rowan surveyed the room thoughtfully.

There were several extra sets of suites since the castle had been built to house lords and their families, but this one gave a stunning view of the mountains she spent so much time looking at.

Sure enough, her green eyes sparkled in the light of the low lantern when they landed on the windows.

“It’s perfect,” she said, looking back at me. “I love it.”

“And I love you, Lemmikki.” I tried to focus on the simple perfection of this moment, not this persistent, ominous feeling of waiting for something to go wrong.

Not this knowledge that with Iiro in some form of power and my father using up all his lucid moments to profess his hatred for my new bride, all of this felt tenuous. Temporary and not quite real.

Rowan shifted her body until she was laying on top of me, her soft curves pressing into my solid chest, and the feeling grounded me.

She leaned down to press a kiss against my lips. Her mass of crimson hair spilled all around us, cocooning us further into this world that was just ours and pulling me from my morbid thoughts.

Not wanting this moment to end, I couldn’t help but tease her.

“I especially loved you in that dress tonight, though I have to say, I much prefer you out of it.”

One of the many, many things I adored about my wife was that she didn’t bother to pretend to be shy.

“Oh?” She gave me a wicked little smile, sitting up and shaking her hair behind her while she stretched her arms over her head. “I think I prefer that as well.”

Again. She had no issues with shyness.

My mouth went completely dry. She was, without a doubt, the single most exquisite thing I had ever seen. It was still hard to believe she was here.

Here at the estate.

Here in my bed.

Here in my arms.

“Have I told you lately how gorgeous you are?” I murmured, leaning up to press my lips against the space just below her collarbone.

“Hmmm,” she mused. “I believe you’ve told me...never.”

My eyes snapped up to hers. She didn’t look particularly bothered by this fact, but neither was she lying.

That can’t be right.

I had thought it every waking minute of every day she was in my rooms, even when she was being infuriating. Especially then, the way her eyes would burn in defiance or sparkle with amusement when she argued with every storms-blasted thing that I said.

But I had put so much effort into concealing those feelings, it hadn’t occurred to me that I never actually told her.

“Well, allow me to remedy that,” I said, running my hands along the creamy skin of her shoulders, down to her waist. “You, Rowan Stenvall…”Der’mo, I loved the way that sounded.