The Queen of All that Lives
Page 76

“For your stomach,” he says, handing me the drink, “and to protect your skin,” he says, holding up the bottle of salve.
I take it from his hand and read the label.
Sunscreen.
I have vague memories of using this when I was younger, before the world had gone crazy.
“You’ll want to put that on your face. Otherwise your skin will burn.”
Sunburns, now that was something I was familiar with.
I have time to neither try the drink or use the sunscreen before Montes takes my jaw and kisses me roughly. “I have to go man the helm. Remember—eyes on the horizon.”
He leaves me there so that he can start up the engine.
He’s doing all this because I asked him to. The sunscreen, the drink, the day out at sea. He just wants to see me happy.
Was this what love was like? Not just something to fight and die for, but something that didn’t draw attention to itself unless you looked for it?
I think back to my conversation with the representatives. The agreement we made, the one I intend to see through to the bitter end.
My nausea only deepens, and I take a sip of the drink the king gave me.
I find the fluid does help settle my stomach, as does watching the horizon. And once the boat gets moving, the last of my seasickness dissipates completely, and I begin to enjoy myself.
My gaze drifts to Montes. He’s shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He’s also unbuttoned his shirt, so it blows behind him.
Those abs he sported when I met him are still there.
Glorious, wretched man.
Normally I’m taken by how otherworldly he appears, but that’s not the case now. Now he seems startlingly human.
I force my attention back to the horizon, where sea meets sky. It’s such a far cry from the dank dungeon I was in only a day ago.
The boat slows to a halt.
I glance over at the king just as he removes his shoes. Then his socks.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyebrows rising.
“Going for a swim. And my pregnant queen will be joining me.”
My annoyance flares. A command given in the third person, and that insinuation again that I’m pregnant.
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
Montes actually looks charmed by my words. “That didn’t stop you the last time you swam in the ocean with me.”
His hands move to his zipper of his slacks.
“What are you doing?”
The king sighs, dropping his pants and stepping out of them as he does so. “Remember what I said about inane questions? I’m not answering that.”
I glance over my shoulder. The palace is fairly far away, but I don’t doubt that there are eyes trained on our location.
Montes’s hands go his boxer briefs. With one swift tug, he removes the last of his clothes.
The king has never had many qualms about being naked. That doesn’t change as he approaches me.
He takes the drink out of my hand and sets it aside.
I lean back as he enters my personal space. He drops to his knees, his fingers going to the hem of my top.
I grab his wrists. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing you, in case that wasn’t apparent,” he says, his mouth curving up just a little.
He wants us to swim … naked? My shock is tempered by a good dose of curiosity.
He must sense my interest, because he takes the opportunity to lift my shirt. I raise my arms passively.
“People do this?”
He tosses my shirt aside and squints at me, his head tilting. “My queen, have you never skinny-dipped?”
I don’t even know what the term means, though by its context I figure it out real quick.
I’m sure my expression says enough.
“Another new experience,” the king says. I can hear the wonder in his voice.
I let him undress me until we both stand together, naked from head to foot.
He spends a moment drinking me in. Then he grabs the sunscreen from its resting spot and squeezes it onto his hands.
I think he’s going to put it on his own body, but then he begins to rub my shoulder, dragging his hand down my arm, massaging the sunscreen in to my skin.
I watch him for several seconds, utterly transfixed by him. Montes appears to be enjoying the excuse to touch me.
“What’s the point?” I ask. He has pills and machines that can do far more than sunscreen can.
He doesn’t look up as he responds, “You don’t like doing things my way, so I’m trying to do them your way.”
I stare at him in awe. He’s a different being entirely from the one I married. One that compromises and works to be good even though it goes against his very nature.
Montes smooths more sunscreen onto me, his hands brushing across my ribs, over my bellybutton, beneath my breasts. I don’t bother telling him this last spot probably won’t capture the sun. I’m enjoying his hands on me far too much.
He touches me with familiarity, and I’m charmed despite myself. He’s taking care of me. Aside from my parents, I’ve never had anyone take care of me. That’s what happens when you’re strong. No one thinks to.
“Done.” He caps the bottle and, setting it aside, stands. “Now for the fun part.”
Without warning, he scoops me up.
I think I know what’s coming.
“Montes, put me down,” I command. Even as I speak, I wrap my arms around his neck. I know better than to assume he’ll listen to me. He just finished making one consolation. Two within such a short timespan would be pushing it.