The Palace (Chateau 4)

He dipped his chin and pressed a kiss to my head. “You’ve never done this before.”

I pulled back so I could meet his gaze, not understanding the meaning of his words.

A slight smile moved on to his lips. It was such a handsome look on him. It made him soft in the sexiest way. Eroded a decade off his lifespan, a glimmer of the happy boy he used to be. “Greeted me.”

“Well…I missed you.”

His smile continued, his hand moving up my cheek and pushing my hair back. “I missed you too, chérie.”

The evening was spent in our bedroom, me on top, with his back against the headboard, his hands squeezing my hips, his fingers kneading my ass. My hands planted against his chest, the band of my ring leaving a mark when I pulled away. Again and again, it happened, our final time ending with him on top of me, his narrow hips between my thighs, fucking me like he’d been gone for months rather than weeks.

But once it was over, the sadness returned.

The heat of the moment drove away the coldness in my heart. His kisses made me feel loved when I felt unworthy of his love. His desire made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when I was the ugliest—at least on the inside.

Gilbert left a late dinner outside the door, so I set the dining table and we sat together.

Fender normally showered the instant he came home, but I’d demanded his attention to the exclusion of everything else. We sat across from each other, me in his t-shirt, him in his boxers, and ate in silence.

My eyes were down on my food, and I didn’t ask him how his trip was. My mind was elsewhere.

Like always, he read my mood like words projected on the wall behind me. “What is it?”

I lifted my eyes at his question.

He chewed his food as he stared at me across the table, his massive shoulders strong, his chest hard like stone. His jawline was covered with hair because he didn’t shave as often when he was at the camp.

“Magnus and Raven came by a few days ago…”

“I know. Is that not what you wanted?”

“No, it is,” I said quickly. “I just… Never mind.”

His eyes were instantly hostile, pressuring me for an answer.

“I told her I agreed to marry you…and she wasn’t happy about that.”

His mood darkened even further. Invisible rain clouds appeared over him, making the bedroom feel like winter instead of summer. “You’re a grown woman, Melanie. You need to stop caring what that hypocrite thinks. She doesn’t belong on the pedestal where you’ve placed her.”

“She’s my sister…”

“Magnus is well aware that I don’t care for her. You think I’d ever intervene?”

I dropped my gaze.

“The only people who see the world in black-and-white are people who don’t understand how the world really works. They walk down a street in Paris and only notice the couples admiring the Eiffel Tower, the little coffee shops and bistros. They don’t see the president having dinner with me, the most powerful drug kingpin in Europe. They don’t see the Chasseurs in the catacombs beneath the streets. They don’t see reality because they have no idea what reality even looks like. That’s your sister. She thinks she’s a hero. She thinks she’s a saint. But she’s an idiot casting judgment on things she doesn’t understand. She’s spent a few months in the camp, and if she thinks that’s horrible, she doesn’t know the half of it. If she had to survive what Magnus and I have survived, she would shut her fucking mouth. She doesn’t understand—and she should be grateful she doesn’t.”

I suspected Magnus had already told her about that night—and it didn’t change anything.

He watched me for a while, his anger slowly fading into disappointment. “Does that change your answer?” His voice dropped a few decibels, growing quiet but deep. He immediately raised his guard, preparing for me to choose her over him, to leave him once again.

I shook my head. “I can’t live without you.” I didn’t play games. I didn’t pretend that he wasn’t the love of my life. I didn’t pretend that this relationship was okay, but I also didn’t pretend it wasn’t the best thing that ever happened to me.

The look he wore was indescribable, a mix of surprise and love so deep it actually pained him. His stare lingered for a long time, his dinner now forgotten because my devotion filled his empty stomach.

“Can you live without me…?”

After a long stare, he shook his head. “If I ever lost you, I’d put a knife to my throat and take my life.” Sincerity was in his eyes, that same look he’d given me since our first night together. His love had only deepened, had grown to epic proportions. “Because I’d rather die than live without you.”