The Rebel King

Chapter 13

Rhia's scream cut through Nikolas like a bolt of lightning, deafening him to everything else. As he dove for her he didn't hear his own bellow of rage or the crash of his chair hitting the floor or the tinkle of shattering crockery. Silas/Vladimir vanished from his mind like a puff of smoke.

Then his hands were touching her…fearfully…feathering over her cheeks, her hair, the sleeve of her leather jacket, slick now with already-cooling tea. Shaken to the core, he whispered. "God… Rhee-are you…"

"Dammit. …dammit!" Her eyes blazed at him with rage and pain as she tried to shake him off. "Go! He's getting away- I'm fine, dammit-leave me-just go-don't let him-"

"Let him go." His voice was jerky, uneven. "It's an island-how far can he get? And you're not fine, you were drenched with boiling water. How bad…" He had to stop; he felt light-headed, all of a sudden. He drew an unsteady hand across his brow, wiping away ice-cold sweat. "My God…I'm sorry… I knew he'd never hurt me. it just never occurred to me he'd go for you instead…" Because you are a part of me now.

"I really am fine," she said in a tight voice that was itself proof positive of the lie. She was bent forward at the waist, breathing shallowly. one hand braced on the table, the other holding her black knit pullover away from her body. "Did he…does he have the gun?"

Nikolas nodded absently; he had himself in hand again, his attention focused now on getting Rhia's leather jacket off her without causing more damage. "He went out the front, so I'm guessing he's taken it with him. Can you let me have your hand for a minute, love? That's got it…now the other one… there's a good girl." He eased the jacket away from her and tossed it onto a chair, then took her by the arms and turned her gently to face him. "Which is another reason why I don't want you haring madly after him, my darling. He's got the gun, we haven't. There's only one way out of here, and we'll be on his trail soon enough. First, I want to see-"

They both jerked as a shot rang out-then quickly, before either of them could react, two more.

"What-"

He felt her muscles tense under his hands and tightened his grip. "No, you don't-you stay right here. Don't…move." He set her firmly aside and in two strides was at the window, flattened against the wall beside it. He leaned over for a quick peek, then sucked in a breath. "Bloody hell."

"What?"

"He's shot out our tires. I heard three shots, so it's nice of him to leave us one. I suppose." He said it with a jauntiness he was far from feeling. He knew better than anyone just how isolated they were.

And he didn't know, yet, how badly Rhia was injured.

"Guess that means he's got a car," she said, slurring her words a little.

They both froze once more as an engine roared to life somewhere nearby. Tires squealed and spat gravel. Nikolas watched through the grimy window as a nondescript gray hatchback of unknown vintage raced away on the windswept highway, trailing a plume of smoky exhaust.

"Which is another thing he has and we haven't," he said lightly as he returned to Rhia. hoping his face wouldn't give away the helplessness and frustration he felt…the crushing sense of self-blame. The anger-at Vladimir, of course, but mostly at himself.

He was shaking inside as he took her face between his hands…frowned tenderly while he studied it feature by feature for damage. His knees went weak and he let out a breath of profound thanksgiving when he found it apparently untouched. Her skin was definitely paler, though, than her usual vivid coloring, and when he kissed her forehead, it felt clammy and cool to his lips.

"Sweetheart," he said huskily. "I am so sorry. This is my fault-I underestimated him. You were right. I was still thinking of him as my father-the man who raised me…"

Her head jerked quickly from side to side-she was beginning to shake all over. now. Through chattering teeth, she mumbled, "No, no-I was distracted, too. I let him get to me. Wasn't on my guard. He…just reminded me so much of someone…"

Startled enough by that to tear his eyes away from his examination of her neck and throat, he said. "Really? Who?"

"Dammit, Nik." She hauled in a breath and her eyes flared hot. bringing some of the color back into her cheeks. "Except for being totally insane, I swear the sonofabitch is just like my father. Cold, arrogant, supercilious…so bloody insufferably certain every thought in his head is gospel, his every opinion a fact. Stop it, damn you. I'm not joking!"

He was shaking with silent laughter. "Rhee, my love. I'm not laughing about your father-believe me. I'm not. Just… hearing a Louisiana Cajun swear like a Brit…got to me. Sorry." He touched his lips to hers and said tenderly. "I want to hold you so badly, but I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Will you let me have a look at the damage?"

She closed her eyes and gave a shivery laugh as she swayed slightly toward him. "I'm almost afraid to look. It hurts like such bloody hell."

"I hate to say it, but…that's probably a good thing. Third-degree burns don't hurt-the nerves are destroyed." And she would never know, from the blithe way he said the words, that he was half-dizzy with nausea at the thought of the destruction of even the smallest part of her. "So, tell me, dear heart, at the risk of cliche… where does it hurt?"

"I got my arm up in time to keep the teapot from hitting me in the head…deflected most of the water away from my face, at least." Her teeth were chattering again, and her nipples stood out in sharp relief under the wet-now cold-pullover. Naturally, his ignorant body, oblivious to anything but that familiar signal, insisted on reacting to it in the usual way as he slipped his hands under the bottom edge of her shirt. "I think…the jacket may have protected me, too." Rhia said. "Some went down inside…down my front. That's where it hurts the most."

Her breath hissed sharply between her teeth as he pulled the clinging fabric away from her skin. He had to hold his own breath to keep it from doing the same when he drew the shirt slowly and carefully up and over her head and saw the splash of angry red welts across her chest and the tops of her breasts, down the valley between and on to her stomach. He looked away, swearing viciously.

"This, too." she said in a choked voice, tugging at the front of her bra where it met scalded skin.

With unsteady fingers he unsnapped the front clasp and eased the two halves apart, then slipped the straps over her shoulders, all the while keeping his gaze focused on the little silver replica of a saxophone hanging from its thin chain nestied between her breasts, lifting slightly with each muted breath. Rage stung his eyes and the saxophone seemed to shimmer as if in agreement.

"Anywhere else?" His voice sounded cold; he had to make it so in order to maintain even a small measure of control.

She shook her head. "Just a little bit in my scalp…not too bad, Nik…" He lifted his eyes to her face, and they felt like deadweights. She was gazing at him. eyes soft…the color of whiskey. Her fingers touched his face.

A tremor shook him. He said harshly. "I can't remember- what the devil is first aid for burns?"

Her lips trembled into a smile. "Cold water…antibiotics…something to make it stop hurting…" She leaned in and touched his mouth with her smile. Her lips were cold…he felt them warm and soften against his. and juices pooled at the back of his throat as if he'd tasted something unbearably sweet. "There," she whispered against his lips, "that's the best painkiller there is…"

An easing breath poured silently from him as he took her head between his two hands. Holding it like a priceless treasure, he closed his eyes and let his mouth find its way to hers again…sank into it. and felt it begin to heal his wounded soul.

But even without touching her body he could feel her shivering. She was cold. hurt, possibly in shock, and his muscles ached to hold her close, to warm, protect and nourish her. make her all right again. The fact that he couldn't do any of those things brought the rage simmering inside him to a boil again. He'd been a believer in nonviolence all his life; it astonished him that he could feel such a powerful urge to kill.

He left the sweet solace of her mouth reluctantly, pressed his lips to her forehead instead. "My love, you're shivering. There's a blanket in my car, I think. Not much of a heater, though. You 're better off staying here while I go and see what I can find. Here-sit down. Maybe see if you can raise Elliot on your cell phone." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Back in a flash."

He let go of her and strode jerkily from the room, only then discovering how badly shaken he was.

Outside, he retrieved the blanket from the car's boot- dusty and smelling damp-and confirmed his suspicion that the tires were indeed casualties of war. He shook out the blanket as best he could, then wadded it up and headed back to the kitchen. "Here, luv-not terribly clean, but at least it's warm. I'm going to see if there's anything in the garage to patch a tire-" He halted. Rhia wasn't sitting where he'd left her, but was standing beside the window, frowning at the cell phone in her hand. "What is it? No signal?"

She shook her head and made a little grimace of annoyance. "Not even a smidgen."

Nikolas pulled in a careful breath and tried to make his tone light. "Then I'm afraid we're-pardon the expression-royally screwed. This place has been shut down for years-no power, no telephone…I suppose I might try building a fire, perhaps send up a few smoke signals…"

"You can…" Rhia paused, biting her lower lip in concentration as she tugged at something on the back of her belt"… I guess, if you have a really strong desire to practice your Boy Scout merit-badge skills. Or, we can use this." She held up a little black box about the size of a deck of playing cards.

"Don't-" he did a double take and stared at the thing sideways "-tell me that's a-"

"Yep-emergency radio beacon. All we have to do is open it like this-" she was demonstrating as she spoke "-and hit this little button right here…and we're in business." Her valiant efforts to hold back a gleeful smile produced a dimple he'd never seen before, and her eyes had the glow of aged brandy.

He could only gaze at her and slowly shake his head. "A man could easily develop one hell of an inferiority complex hanging around you-you know that, don't you?"

"Donovan, I doubt you're in danger of ever having an inferior anything." The sultry look she gave him from under her eyelashes quickened his pulse and reminded him graphically of the fact that she was naked from the waist up-something she'd apparently forgotten. "Anyway," she said with a shrug, "I can't take the credit. It's standard issue for all Lazlo's agents. First time I've ever used mine-I've always considered it kind of a nuisance, to tell you the truth. Just one more thing to carry."

She looked around at the thick stone walls. "I suppose we ought to take it outside. I don't know exactly what the range is, but I'm sure the less interference the better."

She was on her way to the door, looking like an artist's rendition of Athena off to the hunt, when Nikolas cleared his throat and said. "Uh…sweetheart…aren't you forgetting something?"

She paused to throw him a questioning look over one bare shoulder, saw the direction of his gaze and glanced down at herself. "Oh," she said. "That. So what? There's nobody around for miles."

"I'm around." he pointed out as he picked up her jacket and draped it carefully over her shoulders. He stroked a strand of damp hair away from her ear and with his lips almost touching its delicate shell, murmured. "Have a little pity, love. You have no idea how rotten it makes me feel, having lusty thoughts about you when you're injured and in pain." It wasn't the time, he knew, to tell her how far beyond lust-light-years beyond-his thoughts about her had gone.

She leaned against him. her head bumping onto his shoulder, her body's curves seeking his. "But I told you-a little lust is like an all-over shot of morphine."

"Rhee, I adore you," he said, laughing weakly, his lips in her hair and her scent, lightly flavored with tea, filling his senses. "But…forgive me, sweetheart. I don't know where to put my hands."

She groped for and found the windowsill, set the transmitter box on it and reached for his hands. She placed them on her hips and covered them with hers, her fingers warmly stroking the backs of his as she turned her face to his neck and whispered. "Anywhere below the waist seems to be fine…"

He groaned. Her warm, firm flesh taunted him. safely protected from his lascivious touch beneath layers of fabric and a belt like something medieval knights put on their women when they went off to war. "My love, you're killing me, you know. You can't possibly-oh…g-" His breath hissed between his teeth as her hands reached behind her. slipped between her backside and his front side to stroke the growing bulge behind his zipper.

"Tell me you don't just want me for my medicinal qualities." he said in a grating voice. Holding himself rigidly still, aware that she was trembling, now. Not the tight shivers that meant she was cold, or breathless ripples of passion, but shudders of overwhelming emotion that racked her body from head to toe.

"I don't…just want you…for your medicinal qualities. I want you…for all your qualities."

"So, you do want me, then…"

"Yes…oh. yes…more than want. I think…I need you. I need-" She broke off with a dry sob. Nikolas caught her tightly to him with one arm across her waist, and with the other pressed her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

"It's okay." he crooned as he rocked her. "it's okay…"

"Dammit. Nik. Dammit, dammit, dammit…"

"I know…I know."

"I want to kill him. Seriously. I…want…to…kill…him. If I'd had a gun…"

"It's probably a good thing you didn't." He kissed her temple. "Have you ever killed anyone, my love?"

She shook her head. Sniffed. "No. Have you?"

"No." He rocked her silently for a moment. "But I have an idea it's not an easy thing for a good person to do."

She sniffed again, a longer one this time, more an indrawn breath. "No. I suppose not."

She stirred in his arms, and when he let her go she pulled away from him, raking the fastenings from her hair, combing it with her fingers-carefully, because of her scalded scalp. "I'm okay now-really." she said, sounding breathless. "I'm sorry, Nik. I hope I didn't-I mean…" She made an embarrassed little gesture. Avoiding his eyes.

"I may be crippled for life." he said somberly. Her eyes flashed at him. bright with dismay. He smiled and brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. "I'm kidding, my dearest. Contrary to what most adolescent males would have you believe. I don't know of any documented evidence of permanent damage caused by unfulfilled lust." He nodded toward the window. "Let's get our little Mayday box outside where someone might actually hear it, shall we?"

"I think somebody has." Rhia said in an odd voice, going motionless with her head cocked at a listening angle.

Then Nikolas heard it, too-the steady thump of a helicopter's rotors. "Well, well. I suppose that's Elliot?" He lifted one eyebrow. "Lazio does take good care of his people, doesn't he? I must say, though. I'm rather glad the cavalry didn't arrive a few minutes earlier, aren't you?"

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner." Elliot shouted as Rhia took the hand he offered. "I was outside taking a-uh… sorry-taking care of…uh. personal business-didn't catch the signal." He glanced at but didn't comment on the way she held her jacket together loosely with one hand when she let him help her into the chopper. As she settled into the jump seat, he yelled over one shoulder. "Don't tell Lazio, okay? He'll have my head. I had strict orders not to take my eyes off your six."

She reassured him with a smile, the best one she could manage with her teeth clamped together. The pain raking down the front of her body no longer made her nauseated, at least. Now, it just stung like bloody hell.

Nikolas's tall form filled the doorway of the chopper. She watched him toss in Elliot's duffel bag and the other odds and ends he'd brought from the car. then grip the sides of the opening and lever himself gracefully through. His eyes found hers immediately, asking if she was okay, telling her everything would be all right. And as he slipped past her and into the shotgun seat beside Elliot, he let his hand lie for one brief moment on the top of her head.

She felt the warmth of it slide all the way down through her pain-wracked body. An ache filled her throat and she closed her eyes…wishing. Wish his touch didn't feel so damn good. Wish I didn't love him so much…

"You must have been pretty close by." Nikolas said to Elliot ashe belted himself in. "How'd you know where to find us? Didn't we leave you at the airport in Dunford?"

"I've been on your tail pretty much since you left Dunford. Like I said, I had orders from the man himself-s'posed to stick to you guys like glue." The chopper swooped upward, lifting a swirl of fine sand into the air with it. "I was hunkered down a couple miles from here-didn't want to get too close, 'fraid I might spook the target." Elliot jerked his head toward Rhia. "Looks like I missed some action."

Nikolas nodded his head. Rhia could see the side of his jaw twitch with his wry smile. "Little bit."

"She okay?"

"She will be."

"The target?"

"Got away."

"Ah. Figured that when I saw that oil-burner hightailin' it down the road." Elliot said with a small headshake. "Maybe I should've gone after 'im. but like I said. I had my orders."

Rhia didn't hear Nikolas's reply. Exhausted by pain and emotional turmoil, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. Inexplicably, as a new wave of anger rippled through her, the image imprinted on the backs of her eyelids wasn't the murderous Lord Vladimir's. It was her father's.

Later that evening, in Nikolas's seaside apartment in the college town of Dunford. Rhia lay in his bed propped up on a pile of pillows, wearing only a pair of his black silk boxers. As she listened to the sounds coining from the adjoining bathroom- the hum of an electric shaver…the rush of water in the shower… the thump of a dropped bar of soap-she was in serious danger of engaging in what for her was a rare sin: self-pity.

And why not? She was entitled, dammit. She couldn't have a shower…couldn't wash her hair. Her chest and stomach hurt; so did her scalp, in places, so she couldn't even give her hair a decent brushing. And the burns looked awful. Sickening, she thought as she lifted her head to look at the angry blisters one more time. Yes-truly ugly. Blood would have been better.

Scowling, she reached for the tube of antibiotic cream lying on the table beside the bed and unscrewed the cap.

The bathroom door opened. Nikolas emerged, freshly shaved, water-spangled, black hair falling in damp commas across his forehead, a towel loosely knotted around lean hips…and every cranky negative thought flew right out of her head. Something warm and sweet enveloped her. like delicious perfume carried on a soft summer wind. She felt her face being taken over by a smile she knew was besotted, even goofy, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to make it leave. In a daze, she watched him come toward her, and felt herself filling up with a tingly, effervescent joy.

"Hello, you." he said as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, smiling with such undisguised tenderness it made her throat quiver. Warmth radiated from his still-damp body, along with the scents of aftershave and soap. He took the tube of cream from her and sniffed it. Lifted one eyebrow. "This the stuff the doctor gave you?"

She nodded; speech was beyond her just then.

He squeezed a bit of the cream onto his finger and touched it gently to a welt just above her collarbone. "Shh…" he said when she winced. And then, to distract her, she suspected: "Did you get all reported in?"

She nodded, then countered in a tightly controlled voice. "Did you get through to the palace?"

"I did." He was watching his fingers, intent on his task. Gazing down at him. she forgot about pain…thought how utterly beautiful his lashes were…thick and black and long. A woman would kill for those lashes… "Spoke with Russell- Lord Carrington-himself, actually. He's increased security…put the palace on high alert."

"Do you really think Vladimir's going after the king?" He was so near…she had to clutch the sheet in handfuls to keep from touching him. She wanted so badly to touch him…to smooth away the frown of concern that had gathered between his eyebrows.

But if she touched him, she wouldn't stop there, and that wouldn't be fair to him. She squirmed inwardly, thinking of the way she'd behaved earlier, in the lighthouse cottage. She wouldn't do that do him again.

He flashed her a look and a wiy smile. "You were a wee bit preoccupied, so you probably didn't hear what Vlad was screaming when he tore out of the cottage. It was all pretty insane, but I did hear some dire threats against the king's person." The smile faded. "It wouldn't surprise me, since all his plans have fallen apart anyway, if he's decided to go out with a bang and take the man he blames for his misfortune along with him."

"I don't see how he could get to him. He'd have to get past the palace security, which I'd think would have a difficulty factor along the lines of…oh. I don't know, breaking into Fort Knox or stealing the British crown jewels."

"He's done it before." Nikolas said grimly.

Rhia watched the tiny muscle working in the side of his jaw. and after a moment said softly. "You're worried about him, aren't you? King Weston, I mean. You really do care about him."

He lifted a shoulder, watching his fingers tap cream onto a blistered patch of her chest with the delicacy of a watchmaker. "Of course I care. He's the king. His murder would be a national tragedy."

"A personal one, too, I think. You haven't even had a chance to get to know him yet-your father." She caught a breath, trying so hard not to flinch. "He's a good man Nik. And you're very much like him, you know. You should be there with him. If we leave now, we could-"

"Tomorrow's soon enough."

"But-"

He leaned over and kissed her, just thoroughly enough to make her tingle all the way down to her toes. Then he pulled back just far enough to murmur. "Do shut up and relax, won't you? Right now, all I want to do is make you feel better. Let's see…didn't you tell me this is what works best?" His lips, firm and warm, the texture of satin, slid across hers…nibbled at their sensitive insides. He caught the lower one between his teeth when she pouted and sucked it gently, laughing low in his throat.

Her hands fisted in the sheets. Freeing her mouth from that exquisite torment, she whispered. "You're supposed to kiss the owie. But I don't think I could stand…"

He lowered his head, and his hair, cool and damp from the shower, tickled her throat. "Hmm…how about if I kiss it close to the owie? Like…here? Would that hurt?" And she felt the warm, liquid laving of his tongue on her neck…then a hot, drawing pressure.

"Oh-" She drew a shuddering gasp. Then, faintly whispered. "No…" How had her hands escaped from the knotted sheets and found their way to his hair, touching it half fearfully, as if it were soap bubbles, or thistledown?

"Hmm…how about here, then?" And again…the gentle stroking, first, then the heat. She felt it in her breasts, the soles of her feet, and between her thighs. "And here…" It was all she could do not to moan. "And…this lovely little nipple seems quite untouched…"

Same thing-tongue caress…gentle sucking-but this time the sensation that arrowed through her to the swelling, heating place between her legs was sharp and raw. and the gasp slipped from her throat before she knew. The muscles in her back and legs contracted. Her chest rose and fell with her quickening breaths, lifting her distended breast to him. pushing her nipple deeper into his mouth. Pain was forgotten completely, she clutched at his shoulders, wanting him…on her… inside her…everywhere. Never mind the blisters. Nothing else mattered.

He lifted his head…his hair in silky feathers on his forehead, eyes full of a shimmering softness… and smiled at her with such-the word that came into her mind, like the lyrics to a well-loved song, was sweetness. And she giggled- couldn't help it-because it seemed such an unlikely word to apply to the next king of Silvershire.

"Ah, feeling better already, are we?" His voice was a husky growl that only fed the fire inside her.

"You're a very good doctor," she whispered, threading her fingers through the longish hair on the back of his neck.

"Hmm…and I've always wanted to play doctor." The angelic smile tried hard to turn itself into a leer.

"You have a very nice bedside manner, but I think… you've left some of my injuries…oh-" Her voice hitched to a new octave as he lowered his mouth to the hollow below her rib cage. She sucked in air and her stomach muscles tensed.

"Relax, my love…" His breath flowed like warm oil over her taut skin. His hands moved slowly down her sides, stroking…gentling… following the curve of her waist and hips… then retreated to the waistband of the boxers. His fingers hooked into the elastic and drew them down, baring her belly to his questing mouth.

She held his head in her hands, glorying in the silken flow of his hair over her fingers. Her eyes closed… her eyelids felt heavy and warm, as if the sun was shining brightly on her face. She felt her whole body swell and ripen…and her heart did, too, until she felt it would surely burst inside her. and all the love she felt for him come pouring out. I can't…I can't. Can't let him know… She bit down on her lip. fighting to keep the words inside. And focused intently…fiercely…on the physical sensations that were nearly tearing her apart.

She scarcely felt it when he slipped the boxers off. Her legs, obeying his gentle command, parted as easily, as naturally as a flower opening at the behest of the sun. It felt like the sun's touch, too. the way his hands seemed to heat all of her skin at once…a sizzling heat that spread over her body…her stomach, her legs and her buttocks. She arched and stretched in the lovely warmth, sensuously, like a cat.

And then his mouth found her center…moved to claim it for his own. His tongue licked over her…into her…and the heat coalesced into a searing white-hot ball that exploded through her like a supernova. Time ceased; she lost all sense of place… didn't hear herself cry out as her body rocketed through a pulsing void, completely out of control…

…until she felt herself gathered in, held fast in powerful arms, felt her back cuddled against a strong chest and her whole body rocked by a steadily thumping heart. Satin lips touched words of reassurance to her temple and the sweat-damp place behind her ear. She felt safe and warm and loved. Why, then, were her cheeks wet with tears?

She lay quietly in the grip of a dream, content to let the happiness she knew was ephemeral as a rainbow bathe her in its lovely light…until it dawned on her that the hard male body pressed against her back was no longer swathed in a towel. She moved her bottom experimentally. Yep. definitely Nikolas and nothing whatsoever else.

He stirred restlessly, one rock-hard leg hooking around hers to hold her still. The muscles in the arm supporting her head bunched under her cheek as he lifted his hand to caress her hair. "It's all right, my love…go to sleep."

"But-you-"

"Shh… You've been injured, you need to rest."

"But…don't you want-Nik, I can feel-"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be perfectly fine…if you'll just stop doing that…"

"You mean…this?"

"Dar-" breath hissed between his teeth "-stop that this instant, minx-I mean it."

"Or… what?"

"Or…" His tongue licked into her ear and she went limp, every inch of her skin spangled with goose bumps. He drew his hot, open mouth down along the side of her neck and chuckled when she gasped…squirmed closer, fitting her buttocks into the nest of his body. He raised himself on one elbow and leaned down to ask in a growling whisper, "Are you sure, my love?"

She nodded, already beyond speech. His lips pressed against her temple as his hand reached around to cup the mound of damp curls between her thighs. Finding her moist and ready, he slipped his hand under her leg and lifted it. She shifted, adjusted, making it easy for him…and he slid into her body slowly, like the sweetest of homecomings…filled her body with heat and her heart and mind with an aching joy.

His hands were strong and sure, holding her steady against his rocking thrusts, his fingers gentle as they stole between her swollen petals and found the sensitive place hidden there. Sensation bolted through her once more; she whimpered… gasped…cried out…and hurtled headlong into climax.

It was every bit as intense as the first orgasm had been, but instead of a terrifying void, she felt surrounded in love and warmth; instead of aloneness, a deep communion. She did feel lost…as if her self, her heart and soul, had become inextricably joined with his. and she would never be the same Rhia again. Somewhere in her fractured self was the thought that this should be a frightening thing…but it wasn't.

Tears of overwhelming love and joy sprang to her eyes when she felt his release follow hers, and afterward she floated into sleep, still blissfully wrapped in Nikolas's arms.