Althea stiffened at first, instinctively drawing in a sharp breath. The arms around her were strong, steady, unmistakably protective. Warmth seeped into her back, unfamiliar yet achingly comforting, as though her body recognized what her mind could not.
A soft kiss brushed against her bare shoulder, then lingered at the curve of her neck. Her heart skipped, a startled flutter that sent warmth rushing through her veins. Tingling sensations spread across her skin, and she bit gently on her inner cheek to keep herself steady.
For reasons she could not quite explain, she liked it. The realization alone made her face heat, warmth blooming into a shy crimson. Thankfully, he could not see her expression at all.
Gavriel closed his eyes as he breathed her in, his forehead resting briefly against her damp hair. He had imagined this mont too many tis, feared it even more. Having her awake again, warm and breathing in his arms, nearly broke him.
“You feel the sa,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I was afraid... afraid even that would be gone.”
Althea swallowed and slowly turned around to face him. Water dripped from her lashes as she looked up at his face. There was longing there. Raw, unguarded, and so deep it made her chest ache.
He leaned down instinctively and brushed his lips against hers.
For a heartbeat, she froze.
Then she turned her head slightly, breaking the kiss before it could deepen. Her hand lifted between them, resting against his chest, not pushing him away but stopping him all the sa.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I... I still don’t rember you. I need ti.”
Gavriel stilled.
Then he chuckled quietly, a sound edged with both pain and relief. His hand rose to her cheek, thumb brushing gently along her skin as if reassuring himself she was real.
“Ti,” he echoed. “I can do ti.”
He smiled at her then, slow and warm. “I’ll help you rember,” he added lightly. “Patiently.”
Her brows knit in confusion. “Help ... rember?”
“Mmm,” he humd, eyes glinting with restrained mischief. “In ways your mind might forget... but your heart won’t.”
Her face imdiately flushed crimson.
“That’s not fair,” she muttered, embarrassed, glancing away. “I need to get dressed.”
Gavriel laughed softly, the tension easing just a little. “I can help with that.”
She shot him a look. “I don’t think so.”
He raised a brow innocently. “Why? I’ve helped you plenty of tis before.”
“That doesn’t reassure at all,” she replied, clutching the towel tighter around herself.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice, “In my defense, I’m much better at undressing than dressing.”
“Gavriel,” she warned, mortified, clutching the towel tighter around herself.
His lips curved into a slow smile, and his eyes sparked with sothing unmistakably familiar. “You said my na,” he murmured. “Just like you used to.”
Althea gulped and quickly defended herself. “You told your na. You said you’re Gavriel Kingsley.”
He studied her face for a long mont, his gaze drifting briefly to her lips before he spoke again, his tone softer but no less certain. “I did. And I also told you that I’m your husband.”
She stiffened. “But that’s not... official,” she said carefully. “We never had a wedding ceremony.”
Gavriel lifted a brow slightly, amused. “Maybe not by Aetherion’s customs,” he replied. “But in my kingdom, it already is.”
His fingers hovered near her neck, not touching, but close enough to make her skin tingle. “My mark is still there.”
Without thinking, Althea raised her hand and touched the faint mark at her neck, her breath hitching as her fingers brushed over the sensitive skin.
“That mark alone ans we’re married in Lunaris,” Gavriel continued calmly. “And not just that.” His voice dropped another octave. “You’re already mine.”
Her face heated instantly, color rushing to her cheeks.
“I claid you,” he said honestly, without arrogance. “And you claid in return.”
Althea looked away, flustered beyond words. “You’re... far too straightforward.”
He chuckled softly, clearly pleased. “You used not to complain about that.”
She shot him a look, half embarrassed, half indignant. “I still don’t rember that.”
“That’s fine,” he replied gently, his expression softening. “I’m not asking you to rember everything at once.”
He stepped back, giving her space at last. “Just don’t be surprised,” he added lightly, “if your heart rembers before your mind does.”
Her pulse raced as she stood there, towel wrapped tightly around herself, torn between confusion and a warmth she couldn’t explain.
“Can you go out now?” Althea muttered, tightening the towel around herself. “It’s getting cold, and I want to get dressed.”
Her voice sounded firr than she felt.
Gavriel raised a brow, clearly amused. His gaze swept over her wrapped figure, not leering, but undeniably appreciative. “Cold?” he echoed. “That’s unfortunate.”
She frowned. “What does that an?”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “It ans,” he said lightly, taking one unhurried step closer, “I could solve that problem very easily.”
Her eyes widened. “By leaving.”
“By keeping you warm,” he corrected smoothly. “I could sit you on the bed. Hold you. Very effective thod. Proven, actually.”
“Gavriel,” she hissed, mortified. “You’re not helping.”
He laughed softly, low and warm, the sound sending an unwanted shiver down her spine.
“You used to roll your eyes at tis like that,” he said. “Right before letting do exactly what I wanted.”
She crossed her arms over the towel. “I don’t rember that.”
“I know,” he said gently, the teasing dimming just a notch. “That’s why I’m behaving.”
Her lips parted. “You call this behaving?”
He leaned in just enough that she could feel the heat of him again, his voice dropping. “Impeccably. This is already behaving. Do you want to show you how I don’t behave around you?”
Her breath hitched before she could stop it. “That was a joke,” he added, clearly enjoying her reaction.
She shook her head, flustered. “I really do need to get dressed.”
“Of course,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll turn around.”
He did. For exactly three seconds. Then, slower this ti, he stepped close again, his arms coming around her. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just a careful, steady embrace, as if testing whether she would pull away.
She didn’t. Her body stiffened at first, then gradually eased, warmth seeping into her back where his chest t her. His chin hovered near her shoulder, not touching.
“Just for a mont,” he murmured. “You were shaking.”
“I wasn’t,” she protested weakly.
“You are now,” he replied, clearly pleased.
She swallowed, fingers tightening around the towel as his arms loosened again, giving her the chance to step away. “You’re stubborn,” she said.
“And yet,” he said softly, brushing his thumb against her arm before letting go completely, “you didn’t ask to stop.”
Her heart thudded painfully as he moved toward the door.
“I’ll go now,” he said. The door closed behind him.
Althea stood frozen in place, cheeks burning, pulse racing, acutely aware of the lingering warmth where his arms had been.
Outside, Gavriel leaned his forehead against the door, exhaling slowly. Control had never been so difficult. And he had the sinking feeling that the next ti he touched her, walking away would no longer be an option.
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