Page 65 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

She immediately fell back against the door for support, trying to be as soft as possible. Tears filled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself, slowly sliding to the floor, burying her face in her hands.

When she could no longer hear the echo of Roman’s footsteps, she let go. Her sobs came out in full force as her shoulders shook.

She undid her dress roughly, ripping it off in harsh movements.

She tossed it onto the floor, not caring where it landed.

Her slip was the only protection from the cool summer air, wafting in from the open balcony door.

With shaky hands, she ripped out her hair pins, dropping them carelessly onto the floor.

Without warning, an intrusive image of Satin and Tristan in his bed flashed through her mind. She dug a grave for the horrifying scene, but the image seared itself into her brain like a brand. She’d barely let all of her hair down when she lurched again.

She wouldn’t be able to hold it back this time.

She bolted to the bucket beside her bathtub. Her body had nothing more to give, but somehow, from the depths of hell, yellow bile poured out, leaving her feeling like her very soul had exited with it.

She set the bucket down, kneeling on the floor, gripping the smooth edge of the tub for support. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Please, not again. Please. She couldn’t take it anymore.

The door creaked open behind her.

She cursed, scolding herself for not locking it, knowing it was her mother.

“Please go,” she begged through her tears. She didn’t want pity. She just wanted to grieve. “I’ll be fine… please… Just leave me be.”

There was silence, long enough that she thought her mother had heeded her wishes.

She lifted her heavy head.

To her utter disbelief, Roman stood in the doorway. “Do you truly want to be alone?” His face contorted as his knuckles turned white, like he was holding himself back from something.

She wiped her wet eyes timidly. How pitiful she must look to him, how weak he must think she was.

She felt so foolish, so embarrassed. She tried to speak, but her sore throat was nearly swollen shut.

She tried to shake her head, her eyes falling to the floor in shame.

She meant to say yes, but instead, she said?—

“No.” Her sore throat croaked.

It was all he needed.

He swooped down, gathering her into his arms as he crushed her body against his. He cradled her head with his large hand while the other gripped her lower back, clinging to her like she was the most precious commodity in the world.

She didn’t think, she just did. She slid her arms around his neck, burrowing herself into his warm shoulder for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

They stayed like that for a long time. Roman patiently let her cry again until she couldn’t anymore, continually rubbing her back to calm her shaking body.

His touch somehow removed an invisible pressure off her. She found that she not only needed his touch, she craved it. His body was like medicine—a super tonic. The need was so strong she couldn’t ignore it.

Her insides sank inward for even letting herself admit it.

Knowing the hour was late, her arms slid off to let him go, even as her body screamed in protest.

His arms held her tighter. “Don’t,” he whispered. His voice was so comforting, she didn’t have the power to refuse. She circled her arms around him again.

Roman picked her up off the floor, wrapping her legs around his waist in a smooth motion.

The unexpected movement made her hitch before she could stop the sound from escaping her lips.

She swore she caught a wisp of triumph in his eyes, clouded with pride as they drifted to her mouth. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze.

Without a word, he carried her to the bed, lowering her onto the sheets smoothly, still cradling her as he lay next to her. She kept her arms locked around his neck, her fingers spreading onto the base of his neck and into his hair.

His eyes closed and emitted a loud sigh of contentment as though he was reveling in her touch. When his eyes opened again, they were covered with a haze she’d never witnessed in them before.

Her blood pulsed as he slowly leaned in closer, close enough she was sure he’d kiss her.

She didn’t move, by the gods, she may have even let him, but instead, he stayed hovering there—his nose brushing hers.

Her mouth dried. She memorized every crevice of his lips, the perfect shade of pink, the slope they made.

His large body stiffened like he was preventing it from doing something he didn’t want it to. He pulled his head back to get a proper look at her. “Do you want me to stay?”

She swore his eyes pleaded for her to say yes.

But he didn’t need to ask.

“Yes.” Her hands grabbed a handful of his hair again, being so bold as to bring his forehead down to rest against hers.

Roman’s eyes rolled back from the small contact.

“Roman?” she whispered.

His eyes opened with barely restrained hunger as his arm tightened around her back. “Hmm?” he hummed, the deep vibrations rumbling against her chest.

“Would you take me there one day? To Eristan?” she asked softly. Timidly. As if her soul would crack if he said no.

His eyes brightened, almost as if the question amused him. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Roe.”

And with his words, she heard the whisper of a hallowed promise. Stronger than any shout or declaration made to the sky and sea gods.

“I’ve missed you calling me that,” she admitted in a small voice.

He drew her body closer, if it was even possible. “Me, too.”

She laid her head on his chest, intertwining her long legs with his as her eyes drooped from exhaustion.

“Sleep,” he commanded into her ear, then added in a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He caressed her hair, relaxing her scalp as she surrendered to his touch. She thought she would stay awake for hours, but the gentle strokes of his hands and his steady heartbeat pulled her into a calm state.

And that night, she found sleep faster than she ever had before.