Page 104 of A Kingdom of Destruction

“We’re married,” he murmured against her skin when he broke contact. “We’re actually married. My wife.”

It felt crazy to hear him say it out loud. Somehow, the realization hadn’t sunk in yet, despite the dress and the ceremony and the heavy ring on her left hand.

“My husband.” Aven tried to say the words out loud, and they never made it past her teeth. Only a whisper of air leaked through. She panted, her chest tightening with every passing second.

Cillian set her gently on the edge of the bed and stood back to study her. With a hooked finger, he gently pried the ribbons from her hair by their looped front and let them drop to the ground. Gentle, reverent.

“For a second, I didn’t think you’d go through with it,” he whispered. “I thought you were going to back out.”

He noticed?

Of course he had.

Candlelight scattered across the room cast flickering pools of glowing light. Vases filled with freshly cut roses and spring flowers rested on flat surfaces throughout the space and added a gentle sweetness to the scene.

Maybe none of this had turned out the way she’d expected, but she was glad it was him. It was an arranged marriage, one she likely would have entered into sooner or later. She didn’t need love. Or passion. Cillian was more than enough—more than she had ever expected or deserved. His gentleness made all the difference.

And for once in her life, she wanted things to be sweet and gentle. She wanted them to be kind and compassionate without another ripple in the waters of her life.

No more death and no more drama.

Everything had been beautiful, even if it wasn’t what she planned for her future.

“I wasn’t going to back out,” she assured him as she reached up to draw him down to her. Not when she knew the press of his skin to hers would blot out any lingering nerves.

They were married.

The future she’d never wanted for herself came to pass, but she was grateful for Cillian.

Especially when he told her, “We can take things slow. As slow as you want it to be. We don’t need to rush into this if you’re not comfortable.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

Her voice was soft but steady, and her words made Cillian freeze, his eyes searching hers.

“Are youreallysure?” he asked, his tone careful, almost uncertain. Thoughtful.

In answer to his kindness, she tugged at the lace across her chest, lace Nora assured her would be easy to remove when the time came. It drew apart, and the outer shell of the dress melted away from her. The silky piece underneath clung to her skin, cut low and enticing.

Cillian stared at her chest with his own heaving, marking Aven’s every movement.

She lifted off the mattress only long enough to kick the dress aside before pulling at her hair. It spiraled out of the bind and dropped in a wave to her shoulder. She maintained eye contact with Cillian, her husband, through it all.

He watched her in preternatural stillness as she fluffed out the strands of hair as much as she was able.

“You can finish undressing me. If you want,” she offered.

Something cracked in her chest at the tenderness in his gaze as he dropped to his knees in front of her. Pulling her further toward the end of the bed and resting his head on her lap.

Cillian groaned. “I love you. Aven, I need you to know that whatever happens, I do love you. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’tmean it.” His fingers dug into her flesh, desperate. “I wasn’t sure I would, but somehow you captured me.”

Another sweet phrase she’d adore being able to repeat to him. Love, yes. She cared about him greatly. She wanted to take care of him, she wanted them to take care of each other. She wanted him to be okay.

Those things were facets of love, weren’t they? In her life, she’d only experienced that kind of emotion for her family, and a different kind altogether for the army men she led.

Cillian was her best friend. Yes, she loved him. So why couldn’t she tell him?

“Look at me.” His soft demand drew her attention fully. He lifted his head to hers. “I’m sorry.”

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