Page 101 of Bloodstained Wings

Hours later, when I wake up in the middle of the night, Carter isn’t in bed next to me. I roll over and see him sitting on a chair by the window, bathed in the pale glow of the moon. With a frown, I sit up and throw the covers off. Carter doesn’t react or say anything until I climb onto his lap and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

He wraps an arm around me and continues to look out the window. “You should go back to sleep, dove.”

“I can’t.”

Carter twists to face me, his face half-hidden in the shadows. “I’ll come to bed in a minute.”

“Or we can just sit here,” I whisper, fighting to keep the sleep out of my voice. “Is everything okay?”

Carter brushes my hair out of my face. “It’s fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“But—”

Carter presses a finger to my lips. “You really need to learn to let things go, dove. When are you going to grow out of this habit?”

I shrug and study his face, committing his features to memory.

Carter removes his finger and gives me a pointed look. “I should punish you right now.”

I wriggle against him. “Maybe you should.”

Carter’s expression tightens. “You lost your dad, dove. As much as I want to fuck the grief out of you, even I know it’s not possible.”

I curl up against him and exhale. “I wish you could.”

Because as much as I’m enjoying being doted on and made to feel like the only woman in the world who matters, I know Carter can’t keep this up.

Not with a war brewing outside his doorstep. And another civil war festering among the Blackthorne family itself.

I know I shouldn’t be encouraging the shopping sprees and the dinners, but it gives me something to do and keeps me distracted. It’s only been a week, and already I feel tired, more exhausted than I’ve ever been, and nothing is helping. Not the knowledge that Carter has this whole other side to him, not knowing that I’ve still got a job waiting for me, and definitely not the thought of planning a wedding.

If I’m being honest with myself, even Carter is barely keeping my demons at bay. But I don’t have the heart to tell him that, not when he’s trying so hard.

But all the shopping trips and the dinners in the world can’t make up for what I lack.

We both know that.

So we sit there in silence, with Carter holding me while I cling to him. Eventually, when I drift off, he scoops me into his arms and carries me into the bed. When he pulls the covers over me, I don’t let go of him. I mumble something in my sleep, and Carter inches closer to press his lips against my neck. I link my fingers behind his neck and play with the hair on his nape.

Carter pushes the straps of my nightgown down, allowing my breasts to spill forward. Then he nudges my legs apart and positions himself at my entrance.

We don’t say anything as we move together, the bed dipping and creaking underneath us. I can hear my own uneven breathing, loud enough to fill the room. Carter digs his fingers into my hips and growls in the back of his throat. When my orgasm washes over me, I climb on top of Carter and straddle him. He thrusts in and out a few more times before his own release comes.

I fall beside him on the bed, and Carter pulls me to him, wrapping me securely in his arms.

In the morning, I’m too exhausted and spent to worry about the fact that Carter isn’t in bed again.

Around midday, the door to the bedroom creaks open, and Carter comes in with a tray full of food. He is shirtless and only wearing a pair of shorts. In silence, I scarf down the eggs and toast before pulling the covers back up to my chin. My head feels heavy, and I refuse to leave the bed. Eventually, Carter exhales and mutters something to himself.

A short while later, after Carter leaves, Sam comes over, and she sits in bed with me.

We don’t exchange a single word as she points the remote at the TV above the dresser and lowers the volume.

That night, when Carter comes home, he gathers me into his arms, and I bring my head to rest against his chest. The next few weeks are a blur of shopping trips and extravagant dinners at restaurants whose names I can’t pronounce.

And Carter spends every free minute that he can with me.

Doting on me, buying me gifts, and worshipping me with his body.

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