Court of Flowers (Sutherland Book 1)

XLIV. Winners and Losers

Was it longing?

He could almost feel the dread looming over. He narrowed his eyes. "You look at me as though you are about to say goodbye, Sasha."

"You are too selfish, are you not, West?" she asked, her voice filled with meaning. "With many things."

"Only around those I care about," he replied truthfully. He gently kissed her, resting his forehead against hers. He did not feel the need to make love to her now. He just wanted to savor her this way, here with him. Now.

How could he ever ask her to leave Belcourt? But then, how could he when both of them were keeping secrets? How could he when he was determined to destroy the only home she had ever known?

She brought her hand up and interlocked her fingers at his nape. Then she tilted her head and kissed him, her mouth growing insistent and hungry as he answered the kiss.

He moaned in protest, wanting to delay the moment to go to bed, but she pressed between his legs and whimpered against his mouth.

"Love me," she choked, voice desperate and needy, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

West undressed her there by the window, the sound of rain gently tapping against the glass, the light of the midday sun shining through the dark clouds streaming over her naked form.

They took their time to reach the bed, leaving a trail of clothes along their path. He worshiped her with his mouth, trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, the side of her waist, and the scar that would forever remind him of the night he nearly lost her.

Wrapping his arms around her, West held her tight. And as their bodies joined, he realized that he was experiencing a vivid moment, one he wanted for the rest of his life.

He felt a lump in his throat as he moved with her. His eyes were open, watching her flushed face and her parted lips as she panted, softly calling his name.

Swallowing hard he kissed her nose and her eye. He tasted salty tears and he muffled a sob in the crook of her neck, his hands digging into her skin. She was wonderful.

He felt wonderful.

Yet he also felt doomed.

*****

That afternoon, the rain was over, leaving naught but the fresh smell of grass and dew.

It was the perfect time for a walk.

"Do you remember our hike at the Sailor Garden?" he asked. "You were wearing the same hat."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head to look at her.

He could sense it, she thought with certainty.

She had bought them enough time, she thought as she stopped in her tracks to look around the meadow. The trees were lush and green, hiding its little secrets behind its leaves as they chirped their afternoon songs. The grasses were damp, droplets of rain dangling at their tips. Various flowers thriving together in one large bed of soil, so carefree and wild, bold and fearless after the light rain and until the next season.

How different from how humans lived, how so natural and free.

"You have to tell me what it is, Sasha," West's gentle voice said behind her as she continued to aimlessly walk into the meadow.

Sasha stopped and closed her eyes.

For days, she had done naught but think until she grew tired of it.

Slowly, she turned and faced him.

He looked magnificent and her eyes filled with tears again.

"I went to the Royal Theater."