❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
"It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I've got you, you've got us. Your secret is safe with me. Sleep. I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you."
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HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.
EDWINA
I HAD NOT SLEPT SO soundly since a hundred years.
Soft morning light hit my lids, burning red, as I rolled a bit further, colliding with something warm. Slowly, I opened my eyes and gasped loudly.
I'd been sleeping at the left extreme, Tristan at the right. And now, we both were at the center. My head was on his chest, and I could hear strong, calming heartbeats under me. Another groan, and I realized that under me wasn't a pillow. It was his arm.
I groaned, my hands coming up with fistfuls of his white cotton shirt in my fingers. Slowly, my eyes traveled up to his throat, the arteries pumping blood to those strong, chiseled muscles. His jaw was hard and stubborn as I looked higher up, past his sinful lips and to his eyes.
They were bluer than I had ever seen them, and were watching me with a slight, amused smile as I took in where I was. He looked at me as if the moon and the stars shone out of my eyes.
His face was much better, the colour returned to it, and the eyes no longer looked tired, but happy and well rested. Thank the heavens, I prayed to myself. Thank you for not making him suffer any more.
The stubborn god had propped himself up on a cushion, the other hand was still under my head as he watched me quietly, careful not to move for fear of waking me up.
My leg was over his, our limbs entangled. He still hadn't changed out from last night's shirt. With a flinch of panic, I realized that the hem of my petticoat had crept more than halfway up my thigh, leaving bare skin exposed to the morning air.
"Careful there, Tremayne," Tristan closed his eyes and stretched. I looked in marveled amazement at the muscles that swelled under the shirt. "You might want to consider... less provocative nightwear," he continued, "I might just pull off that pitiful excuse of a dress any moment."
"I'll wear what I want to, Valmont. Keep your lustful tendencies in your pants," my lips curled with a smile, feeling giddy and sated.
"Hmm... someone thinks quite highly of herself," he muttered casually, running a hand through his messy hair.
"Says the man who hasn't taken his eyes off my provocative nightwear ever since I woke up?" I sleepily chuckled, my voice hoarse and throaty.
