Page 159 of The Delta's Rogue
“I’ve had it for a long time,” he says. “I had it made during the first year after you left. But the rubies were a recent addition.”
“They’re the same color as my dress.”
He nods. “Rune destroyed the piece I kept when she searched for you with her locator spell. That’s when I had my jeweler switch some of the diamonds out for rubies.”
“I kept my choker,” I confess, meeting his eyes again. “The one you made from my dress. I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to burn it with everything else, but I tied it to my ankle and hid it from the others with pants and socks and boots.”
“Where is it now?”
“They took it from me when they captured me,” I whisper.
His nostrils flare, and anger flashes in his eyes.
I rush the rest of my words out, ripping them off my tongue like a Band-Aid. “They threw me in a cell and shackled me to a cot, and when I reached for it to calm myself, it was gone.”
The anger in his eyes is replaced by a pain that matches mine. Those pieces of my dress were always more than just fabric to us. They were the last remnants of our time together, of the memories we created and the connection we forged. And now they’re gone.
The choker sparkles in the dim evening light. The jewels dance and shine like the stars in the sky, tempting me to take the choker out of the box.
I don’t touch it. It isn’t mine to touch. He isn’t giving it to me. He’s only showing it to me.
I set my jaw, bolstered by a momentary determination. “Sebastián, this choker is beautiful. It’s stunning. But I-I don’t know how long… I don’t know if I will ever…” My determination fades as fast as it appeared, replaced by a vast, insurmountable trepidation, but I choke my words out through the tightness in my chest. “What if I can’t be what you want me to be?” I whisper. “What if I can’t give you what you want anymore?”
“You’re already everything I want.” He sets the box aside and cups my cheeks, bringing our foreheads together. “When you’re ready for it, this choker is yours, and together we will decide what it symbolizes when you wear it. Together, we will determine our dynamic. You are mine, and no one, except us, gets to dictate what that means.”
My lip trembles, and I take shaky breaths as he wraps me tight in his arms again and tucks my head under his chin. “Okay.”
“I really am sorry for everything I did and said today, Sarina. It took me a while to wrap my head around all this and come to terms with it. Then Amara showed up, and I had to deal with her and decompress after she dropped that bomb about the mate-blocking potion. I needed to get clothes for both of us, and then Reid gave me the idea to make this stupid, cheesy shirt…” He exhales and clutches me tighter. “None of that matters. I was a dickhead. I should have made it clearer that I was coming back here, back to you. There should never be a doubt in your mind that I will always return to your side.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and curl my fingers into his shirt. My body relaxes into his embrace, and my rapid heartbeat finally slows, falling into a matching rhythm with his.
“Here.” He grabs his sweatshirt off the dresser. “Put this on.”
He slips it over my head. I slide my arms into the sleeves, keeping my hands inside them so the cuffs don’t rub against the scarring on my wrists.
He untucks my hair from the hood, and his fingertips trace above the scar around my neck that matches the ones on my wrists and ankles. “Do they still hurt?”
I shrug one shoulder. “A little.”
He frowns and leans in more to examine the scarring better. “I hate that these never healed properly.”
I lift my hand to his cheek and trace over it with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I hate that your wounddidheal,” I retort.
“My wound?” His frown deepens. “I didn’t have a wound.”
“You did. I scratched you with the heel of my shoe last night.” I smirk at him as he lets out an exasperated laugh. “You’d be sexy with a scar.”
“Sexy?” he asks with a raised brow.
“Sexier,” I amend.
He grins and slides his hands down my sides to my hips. “So I’m already sexy.”
“Why did I need to put this on?” I nod at his hoodie, changing the subject before his already enormous head gets any bigger.
Even so, his grin widens and a silent laugh shakes his shoulders. He backs away from me, grabs the blanket from the dresser, and takes my hidden hand in his, leading me towards the door.
“I thought you might like to sit on the back deck for a bit, so you’re not stuck inside.”
