Page 113 of Between Soul and Vessel
His fingers played with the fabric at the bottom of my tunic. “Then take it off.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with the territorial male I know?” I set the glass down on the windowsill.
He gave a dusky laugh, the sound of it a dark, sensual melody—one I longed to hear over and over again. “Letting other people see as I touch youisa way of me stakingmy claim.”
Fire licked at my skin, burrowing beneath it, into my veins.
Creator above,thismale.
He watched as I removed my tunic, pulling it over my head. My hair fell against my skin, pooling down my back, over my breasts. I dropped the cloth onto the floor, beside my feet. I decided to take it one step further, unbuttoning my pants.
Von quirked a curious-but-not-sad-about-it brow.
Grinning up at him, I said, “So you can get a full viewof your canvas.”
“Ah, so very thoughtful,” he answered, giving me an approving nod.
I took off my shoes and wiggled my way out of my pants then removed my underwear and dropped them on top of my tunic. Moonlight shone against the swell of my breasts, resting against the flat of my stomach, highlighting the curvature of my hips.
I couldfeelVon’s heated gaze as it swept over my naked flesh, eliciting a shivering response out of me.
“Exquisite,” he praised, coming closer to me. Notes of sandalwood and amber washed over me, making me feel weak in the knees as he leaned in, gathered my hair, and swept it behind my shoulders. He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his jaw in thought. A sinfully handsome artist debating what part of me to start painting first.
While he studied me, I took him in—allnearly seven feet of him. Inch byincredibleinch. Von was a masterpiece, forged from the rawest, purest form of masculinity. He was a safe harbor, a place where my femininity could dock, unload, and thrive.
Reaching over to the windowsill with his long arm, he dipped two fingers into the cup, wetting them. I sucked in my breath when his fingertips touched my skin, the middle of my sternum, beneath my breasts.
“I’d start right here with a rose.” He began to draw it out, his fingers shifting as he drew the petals. When they became dry, he dipped his fingers into the glass again andreturned them to my skin. “And here”—he followed the curvature of my breasts—“I would take my time, drawing slender, intricate vines.” He mimicked the same motion underneath my other breast. “From them, small chains would dangle.” He wet his fingers again then worked up from the rose. “Leaves would curl between your breasts, reaching up toward a crescent-shaped moon. I might even hide a little skull in there somewhere, just so I can stamp my symbol on you.” He smirked at the thought, and it was a wicked, devastating thing.
I had once hated the idea of belonging to him, but now I wanted nothing more. I wanted him. All of him. I wanted the bond and the connection that came with it. I wanted to wear his inky markings, his colors, his silver. I wanted to be his wife. His queen. And the mother of his children.
More than anything, I wantedus.
Gaze lifting to mine, he asked, “What do you think?”
“It sounds beautiful.” I bit my bottom lip then released it. “Can you do it now?”
A dark, handsome grin appeared on his lips. “Only if you are willing to make a deal with me.”
“What do you have in mind?”
His black lashes lowered, shadowing his gaze as it swept over me, takingallof me in before they rose back up to mine. “That tonight, you becomemywife.”
Sage
“Iknow you wanted a traditional mortal wedding with the dress, the people, the celebration, but I have waited centuries to call you my wife, and I do not wish to go another day without being able to do so,” Von said, stepping toward me. His knuckles drifted down the length of my arm, taking my hand in his. Something cold touched my skin, and my fingers curled around it. “So, Little Goddess, will you do me the honor of becomingmy wifetonight?”
I lifted my hand, looking at the beautiful, dark, ethereal ring. An emerald stone sat in the middle, surrounded by intricately woven vines and tiny, dainty leaves. The emerald reminded me of the color of Von’s eyes, and I couldn’t help but marvel at it. Nestled beneath the glimmering stone were white and black diamonds—a nod to us both. The metal was a silvery-black color, as if the night and the moon had been harnessed to craft it.
Tears misted my eyes. So much detail had gone into this ring. So muchlove.
“Didyoumake it?” I asked, my voice crackling with emotion.
“I did. I had planned to give it to you on our wedding day,” he admitted, his words holding a great deal of weight.
My brows wove together, my chin trembling as I peered down at the stunning ring, which suddenly felt so much heavier. “All thistime . . . you’ve been holding on to it.”
Gently, he tipped my face up toward his. “I’ve carried your wedding ring with me every day, every year, every decade, every century. I held on to it until I could finally give it to you. Until today.”
