Page 79 of The Sovereign: Part One
Maxim considered my words.“Joss was careful when he spoke of it, too.”
I thought back to every passing mention, the hushed tones, the glances exchanged when its name arose.“I think it’s fair to say The Vale needs some level of protection from The Citadel.”
Maxim studied me, then gave a small nod.“That makes sense.”
The conversation settled into silence, so I stood.“I’m going upstairs to change.Calyx, we’ll be changing into loungewear for the evening.”
Maxim looked at me in surprise.“For me?”
I gestured for him to follow, leading him upstairs, through the somna to the dressing alcove.With a sweep of my hand, the panels retracted, revealing once-empty shelves and racks, now neatly arranged with men’s clothing.
He stepped forward, taking it in as if committing it to memory.“You’ve been shopping.”
“Of course.Your clothing selection from The Crèche doesn’t arrive until just before the Oathbond.”
He exhaled.“I have clothes here.”
“You do.”
Maxim turned to me, gratitude bright in his expression.I squeezed his hand before stepping into the somna to change.When I returned, he had changed, too, now dressed in a white fitted long-sleeved knit shirt and light gray neolinen pants.
I glanced toward the bed.“Would you be comfortable lying down and watching a movie with me?”
Maxim grinned, sudden and boyish.Before I could react, he lifted me into his arms, and I let out a startled squeal as he quickly carried me over, then set me down with an exaggerated gentleness.He slipped beneath the comforter beside me, and I relaxed against him, savoring the privacy we could finally enjoy without reprimand.
“What would you like to watch?”I asked.
“Isara,” he playfully scolded.“I like what you like.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Period dramas, old world documentaries, and films centered on civil rights and social reform.”
My mouth fell open in mock surprise.“It’s almost like you’ve spent the last year getting to know me.”
“Funny,” he deadpanned.
I smiled as I settled in against him again.“Calyx,” I directed, “playThe Protectorate Trials.”
An interface phased in at the foot of the bed, its edges glowing as the documentary began.Maxim pulled me closer, resting his cheek against my hair.
From my peripheral, I noticed his focus had drifted.Not on the screen, but to me.I turned, meeting his eyes.
“I’m happy,” he murmured.“Right now, in this moment, there is nothing else I want more than this.”
Warmth spread through me, and I touched my palm to his face, then planted a slow kiss against his mouth.He moved his lips against mine, carrying the same emotion that had thickened his voice just moments before.Then, without warning, the kiss transformed—deepening, intensifying, brimming with urgency.
His hand traced a slow ascent up my back, fingers pressing with firm, possessive intent.I answered in kind, my touch venturing with newfound boldness.My knee bent, gliding over his hip as I used my leg to urge him closer.His hand drifted lower, molding to the curve of my backside as he drew me flush against him.
My breath faltered, and then his tongue slipped into my mouth, a low, pained moan escaping him as if restraint was a struggle.
“Are you okay?”I asked, breathless.
He touched his forehead to mine.“Yes.If anything, there is an alarming absence of warnings or alerts.”
I tilted my head and moved closer to him, brushing my lips against his, but he caught me with gentle hands, holding me at bay.“Wait.”
A sigh of pure disappointment slipped past my lips before I could catch it.
