Page 80 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

The hesitation remains even with his reassurances, and I tremble with the uncertainty and the force of my racing heart.

I’m filled with his love, yes, but there is this ugly, terrifying force inside me that’s preventing me from being true to my desires.

It wraps itself around my will and yanks it away from me with the intensity of a tidal wave, and I’m defenseless against it.

“You are safe, Sarina.” He folds my hands into his massive grip and scoots towards me. “It’s just me. Your Sebby. Your mate.” He lifts my chin with one hand, drawing my gaze to him once again. “Your king.”

My king.

His words—his acceptance of his future title—is the confirmation I need.

I close the gap between us and press my lips to his, even as the monstrous thing inside me attempts to stop me. It rages and pulses and reminds me that I’m his toy, his possession, and not the one in charge.

I shove it aside, though, focusing instead on the way Sebastian’s hands circle my waist with an unmatched gentleness, holding me like I’m a precious, important jewel in his life. My arms drape around his neck, and his lips follow my lead.

There is restraint in his movements as he allows me to guide our kiss, but there is also passion and love. With each parting and rejoining of our lips, a link on the chain created by Amara’s manipulation loosens and falls away, melting into sheer nothingness.

This kiss is like none of our previous ones.

Those were all the result of built-up tensions and the avoidance of confessing our true feelings to each other.

This one is hesitant and innocent. It’s a kiss that will form the foundation of our path forward, as we rebuild our trust in each other and find the new dynamic of our relationship.

It’s short and sweet, but it’s perfect.

The remaining links on my mental chain weigh me down again, rattling and clanking and reminding me of my place. I lean away from him and lower my chin in submission, bracing myself for a reprimand or a punishment.

Sebastian’s expression tightens at my deference to him, but he says nothing. Instead, he grabs the slim black box. “I wanted you to see this.”

“What is it?”

He places his hands underneath it and holds it out for me. “Open it.”

I lift the lid from the box with shaky hands.

Inside, nestled in plush and decadent black velvet, is a stunning gold choker.

A large teardrop ruby dangles from the center, bordered by diamonds, and the band is made of square rubies and round diamonds that wrap all the way to the clasps at each end, where there is a chain long enough to extend down the length of my spine.

I gasp and set the lid on the mattress, my eyes never leaving the opulent piece of jewelry. “I thought you were improvising when you told Amara about the collar you had at home for me.”

“I’ve had it for a long time,” he says. “I had it made during the first year after you left. But the rubies were a recent addition.”

“They’re the same color as my dress.”

He nods. “Rune destroyed the piece I kept when she searched for you with her locator spell. That’s when I had my jeweler switch some of the diamonds out for rubies.”

“I kept my choker,” I confess, meeting his eyes again. “The one you made from my dress. I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to burn it with everything else, but I tied it to my ankle and hid it from the others with pants and socks and boots.”

“Where is it now?”

“They took it from me when they captured me,” I whisper.

His nostrils flare, and anger flashes in his eyes.

I rush the rest of my words out, ripping them off my tongue like a Band-Aid. “They threw me in a cell and shackled me to a cot, and when I reached for it to calm myself, it was gone. ”

The anger in his eyes is replaced by a pain that matches mine. Those pieces of my dress were always more than just fabric to us. They were the last remnants of our time together, of the memories we created and the connection we forged. And now they’re gone.

The choker sparkles in the dim evening light. The jewels dance and shine like the stars in the sky, tempting me to take the choker out of the box.

I don’t touch it. It isn’t mine to touch. He isn’t giving it to me. He’s only showing it to me.

I set my jaw, bolstered by a momentary determination.

“ Sebastián , this choker is beautiful. It’s stunning.

But I-I don’t know how long… I don’t know if I will ever…

” My determination fades as fast as it appeared, replaced by a vast, insurmountable trepidation, but I choke my words out through the tightness in my chest. “What if I can’t be what you want me to be?

” I whisper. “What if I can’t give you what you want anymore? ”

“You’re already everything I want.” He sets the box aside and cups my cheeks, bringing our foreheads together.

“When you’re ready for it, this choker is yours, and together we will decide what it symbolizes when you wear it.

Together, we will determine our dynamic.

You are mine, and no one, except us, gets to dictate what that means. ”

My lip trembles, and I take shaky breaths as he wraps me tight in his arms again and tucks my head under his chin. “Okay.”

“I really am sorry for everything I did and said today, Sarina. It took me a while to wrap my head around all this and come to terms with it. Then Amara showed up, and I had to deal with her and decompress after she dropped that bomb about the mate-blocking potion. I needed to get clothes for both of us, and then Reid gave me the idea to make this stupid, cheesy shirt…” He exhales and clutches me tighter.

“None of that matters. I was a dickhead. I should have made it clearer that I was coming back here, back to you. There should never be a doubt in your mind that I will always return to your side.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and curl my fingers into his shirt. My body relaxes into his embrace, and my rapid heartbeat finally slows, falling into a matching rhythm with his.

“Here.” He grabs his sweatshirt off the dresser. “Put this on.”

He slips it over my head. I slide my arms into the sleeves, keeping my hands inside them so the cuffs don’t rub against the scarring on my wrists.

He untucks my hair from the hood, and his fingertips trace above the scar around my neck that matches the ones on my wrists and ankles. “Do they still hurt? ”

I shrug one shoulder. “A little.”

He frowns and leans in more to examine the scarring better. “I hate that these never healed properly.”

I lift my hand to his cheek and trace over it with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I hate that your wound did heal,” I retort.

“My wound?” His frown deepens. “I didn’t have a wound.”

“You did. I scratched you with the heel of my shoe last night.” I smirk at him as he lets out an exasperated laugh. “You’d be sexy with a scar.”

“Sexy?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Sexier,” I amend.

He grins and slides his hands down my sides to my hips. “So I’m already sexy.”

“Why did I need to put this on?” I nod at his hoodie, changing the subject before his already enormous head gets any bigger.

Even so, his grin widens and a silent laugh shakes his shoulders. He backs away from me, grabs the blanket from the dresser, and takes my hidden hand in his, leading me towards the door.

“I thought you might like to sit on the back deck for a bit, so you’re not stuck inside.”

My smile and playfulness fade as my attention switches from him to the door. The shackles brainwashed into my mind tug me backwards and towards the bed—towards my place.

“Is that okay?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t.”

I give him a soft, weak smile. “I’ve missed being outside,” I admit. “I miss the freedom the vast, open sky offers. Y las estrellas . The stars. I’ve missed the stars.”

“ Entonces te daré las estrellas .”

He opens the door, and we walk through the house so he can give me the stars.

He keeps his hand wrapped around mine the entire way.

We follow the same route he took this morning, only this time I walk on my own instead of him carrying me.

The house is quieter than it was this morning too, now that everyone is asleep in their rooms or back at Crescent Lake for the night.

When we reach the deck, Sebastian plops onto the cushioned couch my dad sat on all morning. He relaxes into a reclined position, and before he can summon me to join him, I lie down against his chest.

He chuckles softly and removes the blanket from where it’s tucked beneath his arm, unfurling it and laying it over our bodies.

That’s when I realize it’s a navy-blue blanket—the blanket from my tent that I left behind with him.

“It’s the only thing I kept, aside from the red fabric,” he says.

I stare in awe at the thinning and fraying fabric covering us.

“I washed it on a sanitizing cycle several times before using it, but I always imagined I could smell honeysuckles embedded in the fibers,” he adds.

A smile spreads across my lips. “Well, now it will have my scent again.” I curl myself up within his arms as he embraces me.

The worries and stress of everything we still need to face drift away into the midnight sky, and we lie in a calming, comfortable silence under the stars.

Together.