Page 162 of King of Ashes
I brush my nose against his and he closes his eyes as if to savor every second. “If it’s up to me, you will never face a day without me.”
“I would join you in the next life regardless,” he rasps.
I gulp, emotions overcoming me. “Vian…”
“You’re my strength, Zara. Don’t ask me the impossible, mi sol.”
That’s his one impossible quest, surviving in a world where I am not.
“As long as you breathe, I will fight for you. If it takes me a hundred times to make you fall back in love with me, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes. The past has already shown you seek me out, regardless.”
I giggle, now understanding the reason behind my confusion and my intrigue with him. He was mine. I was his. Our love pulsed between us, a wire connecting our souls through time and eternity.
The elevator pings open, announcing someone’s arrival.
“I hope you’re decent,” his cousin says playfully.
He grumbles, “Why can’t she announce herself?”
I mouth, “Be nice.”
He frowns, which makes him look adorable. “I am fucking nice.”
I pin him with a stare, and he lifts me up before gently placing me down. He gives me a once-over that has heat spreading through my insides, burning me up with desire. “See you later, wife.”
“If you think a few hours will help you get in my pants, you’re mistaken,” I breathe out, hoping for strength.
“We’ll see.” He smirks, eliciting a delicious throb between my thighs.
Noemi finds us in the living room and wraps her arms around us in a tight squeeze.
We’re about to leave when Rafe and Tristan arrive next.
“I’ll try to go easy on your ass tonight,” Tristan says, jerking his chin at my husband.
My eyes widen in sheer incredulity. His wife must exert a positive influence on him because this show of empathy is novel.
He looks my way and dips his head, always the perfect gentleman. “Zara.”
“He was just stabbed. I’m pocketing the win,” Rafe says good-naturedly, looking at my husband and Tristan with almost pity, as if he knows their changes are because of their women.
“Your time will come,” I say with utter confidence.
“I’m perfectly fine on my own. These two can’t breathe without their wives.” He shudders, his face contorting in disgust.
“My wife is the best thing that has happened to me,” Tristan says matter-of-factly.
“I would be nothing without mine,” says Vian, a secret understanding passing between them.
His eyes find mine, and I place my hand on my chest, mouthing, I love you.
“Whipped idiots. Let’s play. I’m in the mood to show you what happens when your focus is somewhere else.”
I don’t think Vian and Tristan care about the game.
I am just grateful my husband has them. Friends are important, especially in our world where they could make the difference between life and death.
Arms looped together, his cousin and I go to a chic rooftop bar, relaxing as various men stand guard.
