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“I’ve got to believe in love, Raihn. The world is sad enough.”
He is no king, he tells himself. He is no Heir. He is just a free man, for the first time in nearly a century. But just because one tells themselves something, understand, that does not make it true.
And yet, now I craved so deeply the very thing that I’d found repulsive for so long—I wanted him to surround me. I wanted to feel his weight over me. I wanted as much of my skin against him as I could offer him. Those kisses, soft and searching, never broke. I reached down and aligned him with my entrance. One push, and he was everywhere.
How could there be so much pleasure in vulnerability? How could there be so much pleasure in fear?
Loving Oraya was terrifying. It required me to see things I didn’t want to see. Face things I didn’t want to face. Allow another soul to witness parts of myself I didn’t even want to acknowledge.
But there was no such thing as love without fear. Love without vulnerability. Love without risk.
To give someone that much of yourself. To give someone the power to destroy you.
