The Queen of All that Lives
Page 59

“We’re going to the top?”
Montes gives me just the barest hint of a smile. Some uncomfortable combination of excitement and trepidation fills me at the possibility, especially so soon after we were shot out of the sky.
The rest of our brigade exits their cars, and we all enter the lobby. The people inside stare and stare. It’s probably a shock in itself to see the king of half the world. But their eyes linger the longest on me. And then out of the blue, one of them begins to thump their chest slowly.
Several more join in. Within seconds the whole room is doing it, the tempo increasing to a frantic pace.
This is becoming a habit, I notice.
I nod to them, and I’m sure I look more demure than I am. Montes waves, his other hand pressed against the small of my back.
“You were right,” he says, his voice low. “This campaign will help end the war. Look at them. They will die for you.”
“I don’t want anyone to die for me,” I whisper furiously back to him.
“That, my queen, is no longer for you to decide.”
The King
The sour taste at the back of my throat hasn’t disappeared since my enemies tried to shoot us from the sky. It’s been decades since the West has pulled such a risky maneuver.
They will pay for it.
Already I’ve ordered attacks on several Western outposts they thought I didn’t know about. I feel the familiar blood hunger. I want the sort of intimate revenge I swore off a long time ago.
It was easy enough to swear it off back then. For a long time I was deadened to most things. And then Serenity woke, and my heart awoke with her. Now it doesn’t know how to remove itself from cold strategy.
My eyes fall on my queen as she moves about our quarters, taking in each furnishing and every detail.
No, my heart is no longer cold.
Christ, I want to hide this woman.
If I thought she’d forgive me for it, I would lock her away someplace where my enemies could never find her. But I think that would just about push the last of my luck with Serenity, and I don’t want to give her another reason to despise me. She has too many of those already.
She stops in front of one of the windows, placing her fingertips against it.
“I’m used to seeing these without the glass still intact,” she says.
“War hasn’t destroyed everything,” I say.
“No,” she agrees, dropping her hand. She casts me an enigmatic look. “Not everything.”
She begins removing her weapons and setting them on the small nightstand next to our bed.
Savage woman.
I watch her as she peels off one soiled clothing item after the next, dropping them where she stands. It’s obvious her mind is in other places; she’s oblivious to my eyes on her.
There’s a smudge of dirt just behind her ear—a place she’d never notice or think to clean. I have the oddest desire to wipe it away.
Instead my eyes travel from it to the delicate line of her neck, then down her back. Her body is so small for such a force of nature. Sometimes I forget that. She takes up such a big part of my world.
Bruises speckle her skin. I frown at the sight. She’s received each one in the short time since she’s woken.
She turns her head in my direction, doing a double take when she realizes I’ve been watching her. Belatedly she covers herself.
I begin to walk towards her, unbuttoning my shirt as I do so. I decide then and there that whatever she’s planning on doing naked, I’ll be joining her.
“Don’t you think it’s a little too late to be shy?” I say.
“Not with you, no.”
I can tell she wants to back up as I close the space between us. But she won’t. Her pride and her nerves will prevent her from showing weakness. I love this about her, and I take advantage of it, stepping up to her until my chest brushes against her arms.
I pull them away from her body, exposing her. “I’m your husband.”
She lifts her chin, staring up at me defiantly. “You haven’t been for the last hundred years.”
I grab her jaw and tilt her head to the side, so that I see the back of her ear. With my other hand I rub away the smudge I saw earlier.
I turn her head back to face me. “Save your anger for our enemies.”
Our gazes hold, and I think I’ve gotten through to her.
She pulls away, slipping through my fingers once more. She wanders to the bathroom, closing the door behind her—but not all the way. It hangs open several inches.
An invitation.
Several seconds after the faucet turns on, the shower door bangs closed and I hear her suck in a breath, presumably at the temperature.
“You know, you could wait a minute for it to warm,” I say, removing the last of my clothes.
“That’s a minute’s worth of water wasted,” she calls back to me.
I close my eyes and savor the moment. Everything’s changed—everything except for her. It’s almost unbearable. Like a memory come back to life.
With a shuddering exhale, I open my eyes and head into the bathroom.
Her back is to me. She doesn’t turn, even when I open the shower door and step inside. I know she knows I’m there, but she doesn’t object.
I don’t think she hates me nearly as much she wants to.
I push her mane of hair over one of her shoulders and kiss the back of her neck. This is how it was always meant to be between us.
I run my hands over her bruises.
She leans her head back into me, and I wrap an arm around her torso, pulling her even closer. This is the woman I never deserved, and this is the life I always craved.