Page 74 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
She felt Achilles’s hand move over hers, and he squeezed her fingers gently. The night was far from over, but as long as they were together, she had the strength to face it.
Part 2
After the Flood
Chapter Twenty-Three
Friday, December 20th, DAY 29
— Three days after the flood—
Achillesjustwantedtohold his wife like this forever!
The bulk of their days had been spent making sure that the survivors were taken care of, and after long nights of coordinating rescue operations through radio static and emergency channels, he’d just drawn her against him while they snatched what sleep they could. He was exhausted and sleep had evaded him like a restless phantom while he shifted carefully to avoid putting pressure on his injured shoulder, the dull ache a constant reminder of their ordeal. Luckily, he was on the side that made it possible to watch her while she lay peacefully beside him.
Briseis Mnon Tyndarian loved him. Had she always? He’d never met a more exasperating, tempting, lovely sprite!
The morning light filtered through the curtains, capturing the softness of her lips—he’d explored them at every opportunity, though now they were slightly parted, as if in sleep she still had to have the last word.
He loved that about her, loved how the golden glow further illuminated the gentle curve of her soft cheek but didn’t love that bruise blackening her rosy skin or how she’d tried to hide that from him with her makeup. His heart constricted; it could’ve been worse. Let her bruises always serve as a reminder of the Myrdon’s betrayals.
Searching for the elusive Aggie Mnon strained their limited resources and energy, and the questions due to his sudden appearance never had a satisfying answer. And there was no time, no time to think about even a quarter of it!
Every night found them falling asleep the instant their heads hit the pillow, exhausted from the demands of their fledgling country, which needed their attention like a newborn babe keeping them in a constant state of survival mode. Had there been stolen kisses? Certainly. Had there been long embraces between meetings? Not nearly enough…
He pressed her closer. For once, Achilles understood what went through the minds of princes in fairytales when they’d watched their damsels caught in the spell of sleep. Time to wake her up this morning and live their own fantasy.
His good hand brushed over her chin, the sling preventing him from wrapping his arms around her like he wanted. “Bris,” he whispered.
She smiled with an expression so peaceful that he wasn’t sure if she’d woken up yet. The next minute, her beautiful eyes blinked open and rested on him, golden and warm, and he knew she was awake. For once, he was out of words and found himself stammering. “Are—are you ready for this day?”
She brought a finger up to his lips and leaned against his neck, her breath warm against his skin. “Not yet… just a few more minutes of sleep… I was having a really good dream…. You and I had a little daughter. She had your black hair and my eyes. She wrapped her arms around you and called you Daddy.”
His heart swelled with emotion he couldn’t describe. “Did she have a name?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t get to that part…”
A family? A family of his very own? The thought made his chest tight with longing. “Well…” And this overwhelming happiness was making him quite breathless, it seemed. “We’ll have to work on that.”
She giggled as he caught her waist; his heart flooded with irresistible emotions, feelings he’d never felt for another woman—a fierce protectiveness mingled with a growing love andwonder, like she was a part of him, but something more; she was like a gift, a wondrous miracle to be cherished and nurtured.
The sounds of helicopters roared outside, the deep thrum of rotors cutting through the morning peace. He glanced out the window and rolled his eyes. Really?
“What?” she coaxed him.
“Your father is here.”
The military transport helicopter descended with practiced precision onto the palace lawn, its blades beating the air in the distinctive rhythm he recognized from his time with the Myrdon forces. The polished black aircraft gleamed with the bronze and copper Tyndarian insignia—the wild and rearing horse that he could spot from a mile away.
She shot up, her thick hair messy and adorably everywhere, the red undertones catching the morning light. All he could think of was how to get rid of her father, so he could concentrate on untangling those silken strands. Her father would do everything in his power to ruin whatever peace they’d found while tightening the strings over them.
Why did things have to be so complicated? He sat up, doing his best to block her view from the window. The sling immediately turned into his enemy, though he still managed to pull her closer with a kiss that melted his insides. Every touch was special, precious. “Just a few minutes more…” he said against her lips.
Her happy sounds exploded against his mouth, sweet and intoxicating, before her chin lifted. She was looking out the window again. Her gasp confirmed it. “My father brought your sister!”
Every muscle in his shoulders tightened. “He did what?” He twisted with a snarl to stare out the window to see for himself. Through the glass, he could see Gena’s slender figure and long dark hair as she stepped from the helicopter, looking small and fragile against the massive aircraft.
Chises had his hostage, did he? She was surrounded by security, black-clad figures that moved with military precision. One guard in particular—tall, dark, and dangerous—hovered at her side like a chiseled shadow. Gena’s quiet life had been ripped apart.
