“I know you aren’t ready to say it, my love. My Queen. You’ve experienced so much loss, cut yourself off from feeling for so long. I will spend every day I’m at your side working to pay back to you everything you endured at the hands of my father. I will break the cycle of violence and hatred my father and all of Velmara have created for you. I know how challenging it is for you to access emotion. Everyone you’ve ever loved has died, betrayed you, or been afraid of you. I know you, Laurel. If you take a week, a decade, or a century, I’ll be by your side, loving you. Even if you can never say it, I’ll still love you. You are my home and my purpose, the person I want to wake up with every morning and hold in my arms every night. I love you, and I need you to know that, can’t go another moment without telling you.” The smile on my face stings my cheeks, but I ignore the feeling, too happy to care.

Laurel’s eyes are wide with emotion, delicate tears gliding down her rosy cheeks. I pull her to my chest, stroking her hair, the joy I feel unmatched by any other happy moment in my life. We lie down together, Laurel wrapped tightly in my arms and her scent surrounding me. As we drift off to sleep, I try again to commit her to memory—the feel of her pressed against me, the way her smell mingles with mine, the small noises she makes as she drifts into unconsciousness. I dream of her, knowing that even in my sleep I’ll love this female in this life and the next.

“Laurel, my love, wake up,” I whisper in her ear when the sun breaks the horizon. She murmurs something incoherent, then snuggles farther down into the blankets, pressing her body closer to mine. I moan at the feel of her ass firm against me. “Witchling, you have a girl’s day to get to, and if you don’t stop tormenting me with that delicious backside of yours, you’ll never make it,” I growl as I kiss up the column of her neck. She wakes, and the scent of her arousal hits me immediately. Another growl lets out from low in my throat, and she wiggles her hips against me again. “You’re torturing me,” I complain.

She turns in my arms, breasts pressing into my chest, and I squeeze her waist tightly. Green eyes light up with delight as she looks at me, and that’s the only sign I need to ravish her. In a blink, she’s under me, breasts flat and nipples peaking through her sheer nightdress.