Page 65 of Iron Crown

That was fine. I’d hold him tight enough for the both of us. I wrapped my thighs around his, clinging to him with all of my limbs.

“Everything’s alright, love,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be alright.”

It was a promise. A vow. Something beautiful that he whispered into the night to comfort me.

But there was something hidden in the words.

“Why won't you hold me?” I asked, shamelessly.

“I did not know you wanted me to.”

I always want you to!

He slowly wrapped his arms around me, but his embrace was light and loose. Not the same strong desperation I was used to feeling.

He didn’t tighten his hold when I tightened mine. He kept giving me room to move, room to leave… I hated that.

“Talk to me, husband,” I whispered to him, running my fingers through his hair. “Give me your burdens.”

That’s what he would tell me, I was pretty sure.

He sniffed, but he didn’t say anything.

His demeanor wasn’t cold. I couldn’t complain about that. But when you’ve spent a marriage in the heat of Eoghan’s particular brand of passion… this tepidness felt arctic.

“I’m fine, love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He said the words, but there was no conviction there.

“Eoghan, you can talk to me,” I whispered, placing a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Tell me what you need.”

He gasped, his lips parting. There it was—the sign of lust.

I traced my fingers over his chest, letting my nails graze his skin. He softly groaned at the feel of it.

“If you will not talk to me,” I said, trying to be as seductive as I could, “then would something else make you feel better?”

He shut his eyes, his lips pressed in a tight smile, but I could still read the signs. His skin heated, and his Adam’s Apple bobbed. I tentatively touched his lower lip with my finger, smiling when they parted, his tongue darting out to taste me.

“I feel like you’re on the precipice,” I said, honestly. “Like you’re pulling further and further from me.”

His eyes fluttered open; his mouth relaxed as he took a deep breath that grazed over my skin.

“I’m falling into my madness, Kira.” His brows knit together; his face etched with concern. “I don’t want to lose myself again. I don’t want to frighten you, or the boy. I don’t…”

“You won’t,” I whispered, when his voice trailed off. “You won’t lose yourself.”

He scoffed, his hands leaving me, as they went to press against his temple. He whimpered. It was a heart-wrenching, pathetic sound. “How can you know that?

“Because you’re mine.” I turned my hand, letting the emerald of my ring graze his skin. “Or are you saying that I no longer mesmerize you like I once did?”

It was a dare. A challenge. I questioned his love.

“Maybe I don’t pull you in the way I once did.” He might take lies as an insult, but I knew that questioning his passion for me was a greater sin in his eyes.

His face snapped up, his intense gaze on me. He was offended by my question.

“How could you say that?” His voice was breathless. “I am a fool for you. You are my wife, my muse.”

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