Malakai
I rolledMila onto her back and hovered atop her, the crisp, dark-gray sheets falling around us. “Good morning,” I said, ducking to kiss her neck.
“It’s nearly afternoon,” she joked, blinking at the angle of the sun slanting through the fog outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The dark, clouded glass sliced narrow gaps between the gray stone walls of the Engrossian palace. So much of this structure was turrets and angular towers like the one we were in now stretching to the heavens.
“Then we have time to make up for,” I mumbled against her shoulder.
Her hands dragged down my back as she hummed, right over the scars warping my skin, but she didn’t stop. Mila never flinched at my scars.
“I’m not sure how long we can get away with hiding in here,” she said, voice breathy.
I kissed along the white lace-trimmed edge of her nightgown. Her back arched, peaked nipples pressing toward me in silent invitation.
One I wasn’t accepting yet, no matter how much my cock throbbed at the thought of sinking into her.
“Where did we leave off last night?” I asked, skimming my hand up her side, the satin begging to be removed.
“What?” she gasped.
“You were telling me of your home when you fell asleep on the couch.” I worked my way back up her neck. “Of the tradition your family had on Ascension Day.”
Pausing over her with my hands on either side of her head, I kissed her once, briefly, then rolled off her and propped myself up against the pillows. Mila pushed up on her elbows and blinked at me with her mouth slightly open.
“What was it again?” I asked innocently. “The game with your brothers?”
Mila shook her head. “I’d rather not think about mybrothersright now,” she mumbled but rolled onto her side, tugging the sheet around her. “It was an obstacle course. Or a gift hunt. A mix of both, I suppose. My brothers would set it up overnight, and when I woke in the morning, it was a race to find my presents.”
I smiled at the way her eyes drifted wistfully, like the memory was stealing her attention. “Four older brothers must have been a lot of fun. And mess.”
I thought back to my own holidays, normally spent with my friends’ families. Fancy long dinners that none of us cared for, especially as children.
Mila laughed. “My brothers are my protectors—sometimes annoyingly so—but they certainly guaranteed I had an eventful childhood.”
“Do you ever think about going back home?”
She and Lyria may have met during the war, but Mila wasn’t from Palerman. She was from a small town near Turren, bordered by the plains.
The door of her fortress pulled tight at the suggestion. Her gaze dropped, and I followed it—straight to the scars on her wrists. The horrible ones from her time imprisoned during the first war. The ones she normally covered with gold ivy-carved wrist braces, but that she’d been leaving bare more often when we were alone.
Silently, I sat up and took one of her hands between mine.
“I think,” Mila finally said, eyes still on her scars, “when all of this business is said and done, I’d like to be able to return home semi-frequently. I’d like to help my parents as they grow old—watch my brothers fall in love and have families and lives not burdened by war.” She swallowed. Was she thinking of the one brother, the youngest of the four, who didn’t make it out of the first war? “I don’t think I could ever stay there. I’ve seen too much. Changed too much. But I also don’t know if I could fight in another war.”
Mila looked up at me from beneath her lashes, waiting for my opinion, especially on that last part. Like I might think it made her less of a warrior.
It was always a marvel when she cracked her walls like this. The general who did not need the opinions of others because she was strong enough to carry us all on her own, pausing to wonder if maybe she could let someone within those barriers.
The problem was, I didn’t have much of an opinion on it. “I’d understand either way,” I said, shrugging. “If you wanted to go back home to that sleepy small town surrounded by family, I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t know how you’ve kept fighting all these years.” I took a deep breath. “But I also would understand wanting the opposite of a quiet life. To go out and seek adventure, even if not leading an army.”
“Have you considered what you want?” Mila rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on a hand as she looked up at me.That look was pure temptation, ice-blue eyes blinking up at me, cheeks slightly pink, and platinum hair wild.
What had she asked again?Have I considered what I want?
For starters, her.
But that wasn’t what she meant. “No,” I answered honestly. “I’ve been dealing with the past too much to map out a future beyond the assignment to assist Barrett. But I know I don’t want anything chosenforme. Not anymore.”
She smiled. “And how does being here make you feel about your father?”
