Page 61 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

Sarina sits up straighter, hands trembling. Her long hair shields her body as she holds her shoe against her chest, keeping it at the ready just in case. Her brow wrinkles with confusion, but another brief flicker of hope flashes in her eyes.

“?Sebastián?” she repeats, louder and stronger this time, but still tinged with the hesitance of a newborn fawn.

I nod. It’s the only movement I dare make. Anything larger may send her into a renewed frenzy or have her chucking her other shoe at my face.

“It’s over.” My voice quivers beneath the weight of this moment.

The shoe falls from her hand and lands with a soft thud. She exhales with a giant, shaking sob, her palms pressing flat into the floor as all the tension releases from her body.

Her keening cries crack my resolve. I can no longer stay away from her. She needs me, and I need her.

I shrug my suit jacket off and dart to her, kneeling in front of her. Throwing the coat around her body, I pinch the lapels together then reach for her face to tuck her hair behind her ears.

But I snatch my hand back before I touch her skin. I can’t be the one to initiate contact. I refuse to force anything on her. She needs to make the first move. It needs to be her choice .

Instead, I grip the jacket tighter in my fists. “You’re safe now.” I lower my face to be level with hers while still keeping my distance. “I’ve got you.”

Her sobs quell, she straightens, and her tear-filled eyes meet mine once more. Up close, the dark circles beneath them are more prominent, drawing focus to the extreme hollowness of her face and the unnatural sharpness of her cheekbones.

She scans my face, still wary. Her arms slip into the sleeves of the coat, and I button the front so it will stay closed around her body.

Sarina reaches for me, hands emerging from the length of the sleeves. She cups my cheeks, and my eyes close at her touch.

“?De verdad eres tú?” Her fingers shake, trailing down my face to my neck.

I open my eyes to meet hers as I confirm that it’s really me. “Sí.”

Her mouth splits into a watery grin. Relief floods through her, and she draws my face closer to hers so our foreheads press together.

I slide my hands along my thighs, too afraid to return her touch, but I soak in the moment, focusing on the tiny spot where our foreheads meet. Warmth and life emanate from that infinitesimal point of contact, spreading through me and easing the unrest in my soul.

“?Cómo es posible que estés aquí?” She leans away enough to hold my gaze again.

She wants to know how I’m here? I’m here because I made a promise. I promised I would find her again.

“Te prometí que te encontraría de nuevo,” I tell her.

She blinks in surprise, her thick lashes fluttering and pushing unshed tears over the rims of her eyes. “?Aprendiste espanol por mí?”

I grin, unable to hold it back. Of course I learned Spanish for her.

I spent countless hours poring over textbooks, listening to lessons, and taking online classes. I immersed myself in the Spanish language as much as possible, all so I could understand every word she might ever say to me without her having to translate.

I offer my palm to her. She glances at it and, with a shaky inhale, places hers in mine before meeting my eyes again. Wrapping my hand around hers delicately, I lift it to my chest, placing it over my heart so she can feel how it beats for her.

Only for her. Because I would do anything for her.

“Yo haría lo que fuera por ti, carino.”

“Sebastián… ”

Sarina covers her mouth with her other hand, hiding her trembling lip from me. She dives forward to press her face into my chest, but not before I see her expression twist as a fresh wave of sobs hits her.

Tears soak my tie and vest as she presses her face harder against my body. I grip my thighs again, squeezing the muscles as I slide my hands to my knees. I’m still hesitant to touch her, to lay my hands on her without her express permission.

But I remember our nights together. I remember what she asked me in earnest every time after we played. “I just need you to hold me, Sebby,” she insisted that first night in the club, the night we pretended it was just pretend.

“I just want you to hold me,” she said after I tied her up on top of my desk.

“Hold me until I fall asleep and don’t leave me,” she demanded the last night we spent together, the night I gave her my everything.

Hold me. All she ever wanted when seeking comfort from me was for me to hold her.

Maybe—just maybe—she’ll want that now.

“Sarina, may I hold you?”

“Abrázame, Sebastián.”

Our identical requests overlap, our voices saturated with undiluted yearning for each other.

It’s all the permission I need.

My arms wrap around her frail body, and I pin her to my chest with all my might. My nose buries into the top of her hair, and I inhale her sweet, incomparable scent in deep lungfuls, ingraining it into the very fibers of my existence.

Her arms wind around my middle, tugging us somehow closer together. She curls into a ball in my lap, and I sway us from side to side, reveling in our closeness and the feel of her in my arms again, in the way her heart beats in time with mine.

She gazes up at me as I rise to my feet, taking utmost care not to jostle her too much as I reposition her in my arms and cradle her to my chest. Her fingers trace the already healing gash along the right side of my face.

I bite back a hiss at the slight sting of pain, and she yanks her hand away with a frown.

“I hurt you, mi vida . ”

I stroll to a chaise lounge positioned at the foot of the bed and sit with her legs draped across my thighs, my heart soaring when she refers to me as “her life”. “It’s nothing,” I reassure her.

She continues to caress my wound. “But you’re bleeding.” Her eyes travel down my cheek and neck, tracking the stains that the slowing flow of blood leaves on my skin.

I bring her hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles.

“It’s worth it to have you again. I would give every last drop of my blood if it meant you’d be safe forever.

” My lips linger, eyes closing at the sensations rippling through me where our skin meets.

“The joy your touch brings me outweighs any pain.”

She angles her head to the side. “My touch brings you joy?”

“Because of our mate bond.”

“I can’t feel it.” Her eyes flick down to where I continue to pepper sweet kisses on her fingers. “But I need your touch too.”

I squeeze her hands, then release them and lift my palm to her cheek. “I promise you, we are mates.”

She doesn’t seem surprised at my revelation, only disappointed that the bond isn’t there for her right now.

Maybe she, like me, connected the dots and figured out we must be mates.

That our connection was deeper than either of us could have ever planned or expected.

That, all along, we were the one the other was looking for.

A soft, subtle smile forms on her lips. It’s a shadowed, echoing fragment of the smiles she used to give me—the smiles I didn’t cherish until I lost them.

Her arms slip around my neck, and she tucks her head under my chin, snuggling into my torso. “I know. You’re my Sebby.”

Sebby. Her Sebby.

It’s been years since I’ve heard her say that name to me, and like before, I’m ready to kneel before her and let her rule over me.

I huff out a soundless laugh and kiss the top of her head. “Yes. I’m yours, Baby Girl. All yours. Forever yours.”

My arms wrap around her again, and I hold her—like she may vanish from the world at any moment, like she’s the most precious jewel in existence.

It’s a momentary reprieve. A magical, marvelous reunion of two incomplete souls who’ve finally found each other again .

Those bastards running the auction may come and ruin it any second, but I won’t let that probability put a damper on this moment. I’m too selfish.

I will memorize this moment and hoard the images for years to come.