Page 118 of Path of the Dark
She hadn’t expected such a proclamation; she didn’t know how to respond to it.
Elias lifted a hand from the wall and reached down, taking one of her hands and lifting it to his chest.
His heart thundered under her palm.
“I won’t lie,” he whispered. “I didn’t think my cold heart knew what love is, but it did. I want you, Ryana—at my side and in my bed—for the rest of my life.”
Ryana’s fingers curled against his chest. His words completely undid her, and yet underneath it all, lay a tight kernel of fear. “I can’t wed you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be a queen.”
His fingers tightened around hers. A nerve flickered in his cheek. “You don’t love me?”
“I can’t … I’m not—”
“Do you love me, Ryana?”
He stepped forward, pressing her against the wall. Their bodies lay against each other now, and the strength of him, the scent of warm male mingled with a hint of spice from his cologne made it difficult for Ryana to muster any coherent thought.
“Don’t ask me that.”
“Why not? It’s a fair question. You have my heart, and I wish to know if you feel the same.”
Ryana heaved in a shuddering breath. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, and she cursed them. He’d cornered her now, and she had no choice but to answer. “Aye, I love you,” she croaked out the words. “But it doesn’t change anything. A woman like me can’t become a queen.”
He inclined his head, breathing fast now. “Why not?”
Ryana pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to create some distance between them. But he was immovable. “Because I’m not a high-born lady. My parents are farmers, and I’m …” Ryana broke off here, searching for the words. “I’m too independent, too difficult to be a queen. I’d never suit such a life. You’d wed me and then, before you realized it, the woman you thought you loved would be a burden to you.”
Elias shook his head, his expression turning fierce. “I don’tthinkI love you, Iknowit. I would never cage you. Anthor queens are allowed more freedom than those of the north. My mother never bowed to my father. She’s been able to live as she pleases.” He broke off here, a hand cupping her chin. “I would give you all the freedom you desire … all I ask is that you be my wife, that you let me love you.”
Ryana’s breathing faltered. This man was relentless. He would never give up, and suddenly she was tired of resisting him, of fighting what she really wanted—deep down where she dared not look. She’d been alone for so long that she’d convinced herself it was the only way forward for her. It was easier than risking her heart.
But she realized she was past that now. She already loved Elias. Leaving him would tear her apart anyway, and she would hate herself forever for giving up a chance of happiness. They came so rarely. One might never present itself to her again.
“I’m scared,” she whispered as her vision blurred.
He gave a soft, shaky laugh, his thumb brushing away a tear that trickled down her cheek. “And you think I’m not?”
“This is all new to me.”
His lips curved. “It’s virgin territory for me too. Help me explore it … will you be my wife, Ryana?”
“Aye,” she breathed. “I will.”
Relief gleamed in Elias’s eyes, and he leaned in, his mouth covering hers.
This kiss wasn’t like any of the others. Their unions before now had been hungry, fierce, and almost brutal at times, yet this kiss was achingly tender. It was full of love.
Ryana melted against Elias as he deepened the embrace. It was still soft, yielding, although his heart now galloped under her palm. Ryana’s lips parted under his, and she welcomed his tongue. Elias growled deep in his throat, pulling her hard against him.
Suddenly, he gasped.
Ryana stilled. Drawing back, she noted the pain that tightened his features. “What’s wrong?”
He favored her with a lopsided smile. “My side … I’d forgotten I’m injured.”
Ryana huffed. Reaching up, she traced a fingertip along the strong line of his jaw. “It’ll heal soon enough,” she whispered, “but in the meantime I’ll have to be gentle with you.”
Elias’s smile turned sultry, his gaze burning into her now. His hand reached up, the backs of his fingers brushing across the tops of her breasts. The gown she wore pressed them up shamelessly against him.
