Page 177 of Diamond Kisses

He groaned again, slowly taking stock of his surroundings.

For a second, his face twisted in hate and pain, then smoothed out in surprise. “I…how did I get here?”

“How do you think?” I grinned, my happiness bubbling over and unable to be contained.

“That meddling brother of mine?”

“The one and only.”

His body remembered how to move as he shifted gingerly. His bandaged arm came up. He cupped my cheek ever so softly. “Hi.”

Tears glossed and rolled down my cheeks. “Bonjour.” I kissed him again.

Our tongues touched, our breath caught, and salt from my tears laced our lips. Henri shivered as I pulled away. His smoky eyes caught mine. His face held true awe and affection as he tugged me down to kiss me deeper.

Only once he’d licked away my tears did he press his nose to mine and whisper, “I’ve always loved the taste of your tears. I’ve drunk your fear and your grief butthesetears.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “They taste the best.”

I smiled and knew what he was going to say.

I felt it in my heart.

Our unique connection flared bright.

“Because you’ve finally tasted my happiness instead of sadness?”

He flinched then arched higher against the pillows. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. You knowing me better than I know myself.”

“You will. Because we’re going to share a lifetime.”

Gathering me against him, he yanked me onto the bed and inched over to make room. He winced a little as I brushed up against his leg—the leg where a bullet had been festering and I’d watched it be pulled out—and then he kissed me again.

And we didn’t stop for anything.

Chapter Thirty-Four

………………………….

Henri

“THIS REMINDS ME OF OUR walks on the island,” Ily murmured.

I glanced at her beside me. Bundled up in a thick black jacket that dropped to her calves, a pom-pom hat and homemade red scarf that my brother’s elderly cook, Mrs Sucre, had knitted, I tripped as a punch of undiluted happiness stole my air.

Fuck.

If I didn’t have the ache in my thigh from being shot, the tightness in my back from being whipped, and the scabs from a dog attack on my arm, I might believe I’d died after all.

For the first week after I’d woken, I struggled to sleep thanks to the fear that I’d been sent to some sort of teasing purgatory. A place that delivered all your heart’s desires only to rip them away because you weren’t worthy of them.

Those fears had faded the stronger I’d become. My bitten arm grew itchy as it healed, my other arm slowly stopped aching, and my leg no longer buckled when I’d slipped from the blankets and joined Ily on the chairs by the window.

We’d barricaded ourselves inside that room. We were selfish in our need for privacy. We spent our time reading, eating, or playing cards, both of us pausing every now and again to juststareat each other.

Stare and smile and shake our heads in disbelief that this was real.

We were truly here.

Together.

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