Page 17 of Blossom in Shadows

For now.

I kiss her forehead before kissing her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, and her lips softly.

I murmur, “I’m yours too,Reginetta.”

She sighs against me and snuggles into my chest. What is this feeling? Contentment?

I look down at her in wonder and hold her against me until I stand us up and right our clothing. When everything is in place, I scoop her up again. I hold her close as I leave Sala. I don’t care if she’s supposed to get back in the cage tonight because I’m taking her home where I can take care of her.

I’ll give her a bath and then I’ll kiss every inch of her. I’ll worship her and chase away everything that isn’t me in her head.

CHAPTER 8

ZINNIA

I blink my eyes open, warmth and contentment cocooning me. Elio’s heavy arm is wrapped around my waist, his hand splayed open across my abdomen in a way which is possessive and claiming. As much as I want to snuggle back into him, I can’t.

Or I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t get too comfortable with this arrangement. I’m very aware that Elio is an important man, and he has things to do with his day. He can’t laze around with me as much as I wish it were true.

He might make me feel content, but I’m afraid to get too comfortable with it. It would be far too easy to slip into complacency with him. He begs me to, but then what would I lose if everything were to shatter around me?

He says I’m his and I’m more than willing to give myself over to him in so many ways, but what does life look like being kept by him?

After last night, I’m not entirely sure if I’m going to be able to continue to dance at Sala, even though it fuels part of my soul. I stretch again and then wiggle out of his hold. Only when I’m standing, naked and looking down at him, does he reach out, his hand searching for me.

It warms my heart in a way it shouldn’t. I should guard myself against it, but a little voice in my head tells me it’s far too late for that. I’m already lost to this, to him. I know it and it scares me.

I slide into the bathroom and make sure to take my birth control before I start to get ready for the day and step into the shower. The sound of the water hitting the tile drowns out the sound of the bathroom door opening, but when Elio presses his chest against my back, I don’t shy away from the contact.

I melt into him, and a rumbled chuckle vibrates against my back. His hands glide over my body with care, something I’m not prepared for. It’s easier when I’m looking at him and seeing intensity and focus. Care is so much harder to guard myself against.

He whispers against my neck, “Are you okay,Reginetta?” I look up at him over my shoulder, my eyebrows coming together in question. He clears his throat, vulnerability coloring his features, something very un-Elio like. “Was I too rough last night?”

I feel my body heating and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water. I turn carefully in his arms, not wanting to wrench my knee, and wrap my arms around his neck. His hazel eyes are full of concern. He’s not looking at me like I’m a toy he’s afraid he broke. He’s looking at me with so much more weight than that—like he cares, like knowing he hurt me or scared me would be too much for him to handle.

My fingers play with the short hair at the back of his neck, smoothing it and running through it, idle hands unsure of what to do and how to soothe. “I’m fine, Elio. I promise. You weren’t too rough.” I look down, those hazel eyes too knowing, too seeing. “I understand what you were doing and why you needed to.”

His hand travels from my hip, up the side of my body and then over my chest until his fingers wrap around my neck to tilt my head upward until I look into his eyes. The way he studies my face is full of depth and gravity.

“Zinnia,” his voice is dark and deep, but whatever is on his mind gets swept away when he brings his lips down to mine.

He deepens the kiss almost immediately and I cling to his shoulders. There’s turmoil in his kiss mixed with the possession which is always there. I’m not sure what to make of it, but any thought of questioning it is swept away as the kiss continues.

When he pulls away from me, a small smile tugs at his lips and it blinds me for a moment. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this powerful man smiling at me. He’s told me a little bit about how it was growing up an Agosti, and the eldest son at that.

A lot of expectations were put on his shoulders from the start. He’s risen to every single one. Even though the throne was always going to be his, his father still made him work for the respect he’s garnered. He was expected to work, to take lives, to show he’s fit to lead those who have pledged their loyalty.

I can’t imagine him as a young boy, or man, trying to do right by his family. Did he ever have a chance to dream? Would it have mattered if he did?

It humbles me because losing my dream, when it was at my fingertips, had nothing to do with anyone else. It was all me, even if it wasn’t my fault. It was my body. It was my own fumble and shattering which pushed my dreams out of the realm of reality.

I get lost in the sensation of his hands flowing over my body with the same kind of caress of the water as it moves over me. His hands are sinful as he washes my hair, rinsing it carefully and making sure nothing gets in my eyes. The attention he shows me sends tingles throughout my entire body.

How can I keep my walls up as he touches me with such tenderness? Was there ever a chance of me surviving this man? Or was he set in my path to offer me a chance at a future I never thought to dream of to make up for the pain of what I’ve already lost?

His fingers glide through my hair as he conditions it and then rinses it out. The same care in his touch is reflected in his eyes. When he grabs a sponge and uses his body wash on me, one look at the bottle tells me it’s expensive as hell. It smells like him—manly wood wrapped in cozy notes of amber. The scent has my mouth watering.

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