He then rested a hand on her hip, took hold of his cock with his other, found her, and glided inside.

Her curls hit his shoulder as her head fell back.

His hips moved, thrusting in and out, in order to return her to where she was now floating away.

“Love you, my king,” she whispered.

“And I you, my queen,” he replied.

“I could have you inside me an eternity,” she said.

“I could be inside you an eternity,” he returned with feeling.

“We are one,” she breathed.

He very much liked that.

“One,” he growled, filling her with his cock and moving his head in order that his lips could find hers.

But he did not kiss her.

For she murmured, “But I am prettier.”

Thus, when he finally kissed her, and began again to move inside her, he did it laughing.

As she had already found release once, he had to engage his fingers at her nipple and nub to take her there again.

It was an agony holding back until he was able to give it to her.

But it was worth it as her head pressed into his shoulder, her luscious body made an arc, thrusting her sex into his, her breast into his hand, and her beautiful face went vague with her moistened lips parted, her eyes drifting shut.

Watching her, only then did he allow himself to follow her.

When their breathing again became normal, Ha-Lah’s forehead was tucked into the side of his neck.

He could smell her, feel her, see her beauty from face to knees, in their bed, in their home, in their land.

And in that moment, he knew he would die for her.

He would die for her to have life.

He would die for her to be safe.

He would leave this earth so she could carry on in it.

But if she was not in it, he did not know if he would have the will to carry on.

Thus, in that moment, he understood the dread that had, more and more each day, begun to plague him.

“I will go clean up,” she said softly.

“You will not move a muscle,” he replied gruffly.

Her head came off his shoulder, but he evaded her eyes by kissing her shoulder as he gently slid from the heat between her legs.

“Aramus?” she called.

“I will return,” he said and finally looked into her eyes. “Do not move, Ha-Lah.”

“All right, my darling,” she whispered.

Aramus left their bed and walked across the thick ocean-colored rugs over mosaic tiles in the colors of turquoise and sea glass to his valet chamber.

There, he wet a cloth and returned.

As he did, he drank in the vision of his wife in their bed, her fingers wound around the symbol of their realm, her skin perfection, her hair an emblem of her spirit, her eyes on him warm, thoughtful and concerned, a shining reminder of her intelligence and the depth of her ability to feel.