Page 63

Thorne

S he turned in a wide arc to take in the space, which I imagined looked similar to her own little hut. Tall windows along the back wall facing a forest just outside, several couches and one table, a small hallway leading to a single bedroom.

“I’m going to put her in bed,” I said quietly, dipping my chin down at Marigold. Clarissa nodded and looped Mia’s leash through one of the chair legs.

I slipped into the room. Marigold stirred as I carefully shifted the blankets on the bed and set her down.

Her lips puckered into a pout, and I smiled when she burrowed into the pillow and let out a sleepy sigh.

Peeling her hair away from her forehead, I kissed her temple and turned to head back out.

Clarissa leaned against the doorframe, her shadow darkening the few feet leading to the bed.

She smiled softly at us. “My father used to tuck me into bed like that. He’d find me passed out by the window or outside in the garden under the stars and carry me inside.

I don’t think he knew that I remembered, but I always woke up.

Just for a split second. Long enough to hear him tell me he loved me. ”

“She usually begs me to read a story.” I glanced back at Marigold as she turned on her side. “She’s had so much anxiety from such a young age that she’s never been the adventurous type, but I think her books are how she lives out her fantasies.”

“She’ll have her adventures one day,” Clarissa murmured, straightening and backing out into the hallway.

With one last look at Marigold, I followed and shut the door with a soft snick .

We stood there, the narrow space barely leaving room for the two of us.

My shadow encompassed Clarissa as she pressed her back into the wall.

My eyes trailed from her neck down to her waist. I remembered what it felt like to grip her there, to have her legs wrapped around me, her warm breath on my skin.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come in,” I said.

“Then why did you?” she whispered, eyes searching mine.

I felt myself giving in, felt that undeniable pull that always emerged around her. I slowly placed my palm on the wall at her head and leaned down, my fingers burning with the urge to hold her again. She angled her head up to me and parted her lips.

A soft whimper behind the closed door at my back made me pause, followed by a muffled cry of “Mommy!”

I let out a breath, my shoulders sagging.

“It’s the nightmares,” I said. “They happen sometimes, and she…she doesn’t know how to handle them.

How to tell the difference between them and real life.

” I pushed off from the wall and turned to open the door, finding my daughter thrashing in the blankets.

She kept calling for her mother with terrified whines, her little chest heaving.

Clarissa put a hand on my arm when I moved toward the bed. “Can I try?”

I looked between her and Marigold, then cleared my throat and nodded. She padded across the floor and climbed in on the other side of the bed. Marigold’s arm swung out as she cried. Clarissa scooted in next to her and cradled her head against her chest, running a hand down Marigold’s bronze hair.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” she whispered, gently rocking from side to side. I had to strain to hear her next words as Marigold’s moans rose and fell. “You’re safe. Your daddy is safe. The nightmares aren’t real, I promise.”

“I want my mommy,” Marigold whimpered, her eyes screwed shut to where I couldn’t tell if she was still asleep or not.

It felt like an arrow was digging beneath my ribs. The backs of my eyes burned as I watched her cry, knowing there was nothing I could do.

“I know, I know,” Clarissa repeated in her soft voice. She pulled Marigold closer to her. “I bet your mommy loved you so much , Marigold. Do you want to know what mine used to do when I got scared?” Clarissa paused, and Marigold let out another sniff.

A few seconds later, Clarissa began humming a quiet melody I’d never heard before.

The hums turned to soft words as she sang my daughter back to sleep.

It was a beautiful lullaby about green meadows and sweet dreams in the stars.

Marigold’s body slowly relaxed, her moans becoming fewer and farther between as she settled back into sleep.

I stared at them for what felt like hours. Clarissa’s gentle hands swept up and down Marigold’s side, a small smile forming on her lips when she looked down at her. Clarissa’s shoulders rose in surprise when Marigold turned toward her, burying her head in her side.

It was beautiful.

It was painful.

It was like something bursting in my chest, spreading instant warmth that turned to lead, sucking the air from my lungs. I took a step back and out the door to try and catch my breath.

The bed shifted with a subtle creak, then Clarissa appeared at my side, carefully shutting the door. Her brows pinched together as she faced me. “I’m sorry, Thorne. I just wanted to help.”

I shook my head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I…” She trailed off and licked her lips, a shyness I wasn’t used to seeing now bleeding onto her features. “I’m not her mother. And I—I wasn’t trying to be. I know how the nightmares can be, how scary it is to lose a parent. But I’d never try to?— ”

I let out a breath that released some of the tension building in my spine. “No, Clarissa. That’s not what I thought at all. Please don’t apologize. It’s not—” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “It was exactly what she needed. Thank you.”

“Then why did you look so upset?” she asked. She reached out a hand and threaded her fingers through mine, and I was so distracted by the display of affection that I didn’t take time to overanalyze my words.

“Because it’s hard to watch,” I blurted out. “It’s hard to watch something I can never give her back. And it’s hard to watch you with her, knowing we both need you. Knowing that…”

You’re leaving us.

I didn’t finish the thought. I swallowed the words and squeezed her fingers.

“She’ll be okay,” she said. “She’s a strong little girl. She’ll get through it, even if she’ll always carry some of the loss with her. And she has so much love in her life, Thorne.” She raised her other hand to my cheek, soft fingers skimming my beard. “You’re everything she needs.”

But what about what I need?

I merely nodded, the emotion clogging my throat making it difficult to respond. I dropped her hand but my fingers traveled up her arm, stopping when I reached where the cloak was clasped around her neck.

“You wore my cloak,” I murmured as I fingered the edge of the fabric.

Her breath hitched. “It smells like you.”

My thumb ran along the neckline of the cloak, my eyes fixed on the goosebumps my touch elicited on her skin. “I was jealous tonight, you know,” I confessed.

“Of Nox?”

I tilted my head as my thumb landed on the pulse at her neck. “And Galen. He said he kissed you.”

She swallowed. “He did.”

“And?” I was drawing closer to her again, that string pulling me tight. My hand now cradled the base of her neck, but I wasn’t sure if it was to push her away or reel her in.

“And I wished it was you,” she breathed out.

I dropped my forehead to hers with a groan. “He said you weren’t… receptive, ” I bit out. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she replied, and my muscles relaxed slightly. “It wasn’t like that. He stopped. I just…I was thinking about you. About the waterfall.”

Closing my eyes, I rolled my forehead back and forth across hers. The air tightened and pulsed between us. I clenched my jaw against the image of them together. “The idea of him kissing you, of him touching you…” My hold involuntarily clenched at her neck, and she sucked in a breath.

“I don’t want him, Thorne.” She tilted her head up so the edge of her nose brushed mine. “I’ve never wanted him.”

“Then tell me why I still feel so guilty,” I rasped out. “Why I still feel like I want something that isn’t mine to take?”

“I can’t.” The way her throat constricted under my touch as her fingers grazed my ribcage made my hands tremble. “Because I feel the same.”

The heat coiling around my chest snapped. “If we’re going to feel guilty about something, it should be this.”

And I pressed my lips to hers.

Our kiss at the waterfall was urgent and blazing. Consuming, desperate need. But this…

This one stopped time.

This one froze me to my core.

This one shattered within me, obliterating every ounce of denial and self-control I had left.

I grabbed her waist and moved us back out of the hallway, cursing against her lips when I stumbled over the leg of a chair. A chuckle rumbled up her throat, and I devoured it, my heart pounding with each stroke of her tongue, each intake of breath.

Every second with her was a mistake.

But every moment with her gave me life .

Lifting her with ease, I set her on the small table toward the front of the house, ignoring the shake it gave at the pressure. She wound her arms around my neck and pulled me lower. I rested my hands on either side of her to balance myself, a groan leaving me when she caged me between her legs.

Fates, she was so beautiful. So strong and brave and powerful. I would never get my fill of her, of the way she made me feel like I was enough, like I was worthy . Like I could live again.

She bit down on my bottom lip, and I curled my hand around the edge of the table.

Crack .

The center gave way as the supporting beam broke, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her off before it fell. A breathless laugh escaped me. I opened my mouth to make some joke about breaking the table and waking up Marigold, but the look on her face stopped me in my tracks.

All the blood had drained from it, leaving her shell-shocked and pale. Her eyes widened—and that was when I remembered.

The sound. Like cracking bones.

“Clarissa, listen to me.” I took her chin in my hand. “Stay with me, okay? Tell me what you need.”

She shook her head and blinked rapidly. “I—I’m okay. I just…it surprised me.” She gripped my forearms and took a deep breath, like she was trying to ground herself. When she leaned her head against my chest, I instinctively weaved my arms over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said faintly.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Empress.”

We stood like that for a moment as her breaths evened out and her shaking limbs finally relaxed into my hold.

But the second she lifted her gaze, a muffled scream rang out from outside.

Both of our necks snapped to the door. I bolted toward it and yanked it open, searching for signs of danger. Clarissa gasped when Devora, her maid, sprinted across the dark courtyard .

“Rissa, you have to come! Please!” she cried out, staggering closer.

“What is it, Devora?” Clarissa demanded.

“Katrine. It’s Katrine,” Devora said, her voice wavering. “He—the king. He was kissing her, and then she—she just?—”

Horror ripped through me. Clarissa and I shared a glance before we both took off at a sprint.