“Why?”
“I thought to eventually make them into a necklace for you. Not to remind you of all the times I made you cry,” he added quickly when a frown creased her brow, “but so that you know I will try my damnedest to never make you cry again.”
Narissa was too quiet. She gnawed on her bottom lip, considering his words. The bond between them continued to thrum, gentle swells of the sea coupled with the radiance of the moon. Their magic blended and soared, but she remained silent.
Solarius hated to see her like this—timid and melancholy—instead of the passionate, if somewhat mouthy, siren he knew and loved.
Loved.
Fuck. Did he love her? Was that why he constantly sought to be near her, why he provoked her just to earn her attention, why he couldn’t manage a single thought that didn’t somehow involve her encompassing his every waking second? But she’d never said as much to him. Granted, she might have mentioned loving him once, but that was before. Before he fucked up. Before Calfair. There was a chance she hadn’t forgiven him. Maybe her feelings were more forced acceptance of their current circumstance. Maybe she didn’t love him at all.
He swallowed hard, blocking his mind from their bond immediately.
Narissa tilted her head, her wavy blonde hair spilling over one shoulder. “Sol? Are you alright?”
“Fine.” The word croaked out of him, and he cleared his throat. He was being irrational, and told himself it didn’t matter if she still loved him or not. Not all matches in Aeramere weretales of happily ever afters. While marriages were often required, love was never guaranteed. Again, he swallowed around the knot of tension. “Completely fine.”
“Are you quite certain?” She placed the back of her hand against his forehead, then his cheek, checking his temperature. Her touch set his skin aflame, but his lungs hollowed out. Her scent consumed him. Owned him. She had to know he was positively burning, and it was all her fault. “You look rather unwell all of a sudden. As though you might be sick.”
He needed to change the subject and fast, before he bolted from the room and abandoned Narissa completely. He would sort out his feelings for her later, preferably when she wasn’t standing so close, when the nearness of her didn’t devour him whole.
Solarius slid two fingers under her chin and gave her his most devastating smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exceptional in the art of flattery?”
A tiny scowl pinched the smooth skin of her brow.
“Forgive me for being concerned for your health.” She suffered him a sigh and shoved out of his arms. “Trust I will be sure not to make such a mistake again.”
Solarius smirked.
There she is.
He rather liked her that way. Quick-tempered. Passionate. A little bit volatile.
“Come.” He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the harp. “Play me a song, Rissa love.”
“A song,” she repeated, crossing her arms.
Solarius couldn’t help it, his gaze instantly dipped to the full swell of her breasts. She still wore Sarelle’s borrowed gown, and he immensely enjoyed the fact that it was a smidge too small. Narissa’s ample bosom was on full display, and he swore if she took a deep breath, there was a chance the velvet would simplyrip apart at the seams. In fact, he wouldn’t mind lending the fabric a hand, if it meant he got to see his wife in all of her nude glory.
But first, he wanted her sitting at that harp, because his cock was aching and he’d fantasized about doing the most deliciously wicked things to her while she played.
“Fine,” she muttered, completely oblivious to his blatant arousal. “Which one?”
She seated herself on the leather chair by the balcony and adjusted her skirts. Because they were more snug than usual, she shimmied a bit, hiking the hem to her knees, revealing the beautiful golden skin of her calves.
“Whichever is your favorite,” he murmured.
Her eyes closed for the briefest of moments. When she opened them again, there was a distance in the swirls of frosty green. She angled the harp toward her, balancing it on her shoulder, and then she started to play.
Solarius watched, mesmerized as her fingers moved over the strings, as a familiar yet fragile melody filled the air between them. It was hypnotic really, how each strum, each chord, each breath she took elicited the most primal of urges inside him. Humming the tune, he rolled his neck as he casually strolled toward her. She tracked his movements, her lashes fluttering back as he knelt before her and wedged himself comfortably between the solid wood and her inner thigh.
She scowled at him and those ocean-like eyes caught on fire.
He summoned his magic then, the gentlest of lunarstorms, crafting and honing a shard of moonlight in his hands until it resembled a blade.
Narissa faltered, her fingers fumbling against the strings. “What are you doing?”
“Keep playing.”
