The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 14: Lovers: Section II: Aurelius

It was hard not to look at Bree, not to want to flirt with her and kiss her and lay her down on the bed and be what she wanted him to be, but he couldn't.

"Hima sent you." He laughed. "That must have taken a lot out of her."

"Aurelius." Bree laid a hand on his arm. She was shaking. She had tears in her eyes.

"Now I've made you cry. See how generous I am? How benevolent and kind?" He slipped his arm away, returning his attention to the face in the mirror.

"Don't. I need you. Don't leave me alone."

Aurelius's chest ached. "You sound like my sister. Did she ask you to say that? Did she think I'd believe you more than I did her? She needs me, she says, Qemassen needs me. I'm being selfish, apparently. Well, I agree. I'm a selfish man."

He turned for the bed, but Bree pulled him against her.

Aurelius shoved her away, fighting past her glare. "You should go to my brother. Ashtaroth loves you. You're to be his queen."

Bree's expression hardened, her glare vanishing to something much colder. "Well I don't love Ashtaroth."

Aurelius wanted nothing more than to ruin things for the man he'd thought he was. "You would if he looked like me, though, wouldn't you? I'm just a very lucky bastard, that's all. If you're worried about your nuptials, I could teach him a few tricks for you, show him what you like."

Bree slapped him and he stepped back. "You're not that fucking good-looking, Aurelius, and I'm not that shallow." She shifted, glancing away suddenly, stroking her arm. "I like you."

"You like me?" Aurelius shook his head. "What an admission."

"Don't make me say it."

"Why not?" He held her arms and rubbed his thumbs against her skin.

"Bad things happen to the people I―to the people I like. They go away, or . . . ." Bree trailed off, biting her lip.

She was always biting herself—biting, chewing, scratching, digging her nails in. Like she believed she'd done something terribly, horribly wrong and it was only a matter of time till her guilt caught up with her.

Bree had no reason to feel guilty.

"Whereas the people I like, only glory awaits them." But he smiled at her, more softly this time. The need to comfort her pulled him like the tides tugging a boat.

They were very close to each other, bodies pressed tight for the first time since the night Djana had died. Aurelius leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. He kissed her, closing his eyes.

She smelled clean and good.

"Just promise me you won't make me say it," Bree whispered. "It won't make it less true, but I'll be less afraid."

Aurelius wrapped his arms around her. He stroked his hand down her back. "And what do you have to be afraid of, Princess of the Feislands?"

Bree laughed a choked, stifled little trill. "War, and Lorar, and your sister."

"My sister will love you now you've convinced me I need a bath."

She dug her nails into his back. "I'm having your child, Aurelius."

Aurelius let go of her. For a few seconds he couldn't speak.

Doubt and terror and hope flickered across Bree's face in equal parts.

"I've never had one of those before, which is something you're unlikely to hear from a prince. Congratulations." He was in too much shock to fully name the other emotions battling in his stomach.