Black Moon Draw(88)

“Then who does?”

“No one.”

“Not even me?”

His eyes go to the spot on my chest where the Heart rested. “I felt it die.”

Oh, god. The tears are coming, accompanied by raw emotion I can’t stop. Afraid to feel and terrified of being hurt, I’ve spent a lifetime building barriers around my heart and feelings. The walls are crashing down, releasing every part of me I’ve ever tried to hide away. My body quivers with the effort it takes to prevent a breakdown.

“So that’s it?” I whisper in a choked voice. “It’s over.”

“Aye, ‘tis.”

“But . . . I just found out you’re not really betrothed.” What a stupid thing to say. On the edge of the apocalypse and all I can think about is how much I really, really want a shot with the man before me?

His eyebrows go up. “What say you?”

“She told me, and her brother, that she’s been bonded to the Desert Knight’s son for a year.”

“Desert Knight’s son,” he repeats. “I knew she was bonded . . .” A spark of something is in his eyes.

“What?” I ask instantly, my emotions careening from despair to hope.

He shakes his head.

“Please, please tell me you have an idea!” I plead, moving closer. I take his face and force him to look down at me. “Does it mean anything if I say I’ll consider your offer to become your queen, if you do it?”

“Offer?” he repeats, offense in his tone. “A Knight does not offer.” As he speaks, his hands settle on my hips. “There is no way to stop this, Naia. I would take you as my queen tonight only to lose you tomorrow.”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? If I’d believed you sooner, tried harder to help, prevented the-” My words are choked, barely audible.

“Nay.” He draws me into his hard body. “’Tis not your duty to prevent my realm from dying. It is mine.”

“It’s why I’m here! And I failed. I always fail!” The tears are coming faster, the reality of my situation smashing down on me. I had a chance to make a difference, to help the amazing man before me – and failed. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry!”

“You once said the war and my betrothed were between us. ‘Tis not the case now.” He’s mildly amused, his thumbs wiping away my tears.

I meet his gaze, every thought in my mind growing quiet at the intensity of his look. “Your last day on earth and you want sex.” For some reason, it strikes me as funny, and I begin a painful combination of sobbing and laughing, hiccupping and coughing.

After the embarrassing episode, I wipe my face and look up at him once more.

The corner of his lips turned up in a smile. “I would like to spend my last night with my queen.”

“I’m not your queen.”

“Do you wish to be?”

I stare at him, every hormone in my body jumping and screaming, while my brain seems to completely stop working. “Is this because I’m the only girl around?” I ask suspiciously, unable to process the idea of belonging to this man, of him belonging to me, even for one night.

“’Tis because no woman has ever touched my heart the way you have.”

I melt. His grip tightens around me, his arousal growing hard against my belly. My pulse is flying, desire so hot within me, I’m about to spontaneously combust.

Attraction, need, and despair sizzle in the air between us. His eyes are almost white, a sign of the intensity of his emotion, one that terrifies me as much as it thrills me. It’s more than physical attraction between us and probably always has been, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it before.

He was made for me in every way, from the incredible, muscular frame to the way he sees through the barriers I like to keep between the world and me. The first to believe in me, the last to give up hope, his sexy-as-hell dominance is tempered by thoughtfulness, insight, and the ability to love something so much, he’s fought to save it since he could lift a sword. Dedication has nothing on this man.

Almost since I’ve met him, I’ve wanted to know what it’s like to be the woman his world revolves around. I’ve also feared knowing. He will tolerate no barriers, nothing less than absolute surrender, from the woman he turns his heart over to, and in exchange, he will love with all the ferocity of the fires of hell, hot enough to consume them both and the realm around them.

Do I really want that woman to be me? To surrender every part of me?

He’s right. There’s nothing between us now, not the war, not his betrothed. It took his world ending for us to arrive here. One night can never be enough.

I opened the door to my soul yesterday and refused him entrance. But if we’ve got less than twenty-four hours left, what’s the harm in letting him in? In surrendering every part of me for one night in his muscular arms?

In taking the chance to live, feel, love, and be loved?

An eternity in darkness or one night with the light on?

“Yes,” I whisper, the tears forming once again. “But only if you swear we’ll try to find another way in the morning.”

“Agreed. The morning is yours. The night is mine.”

I nod. Am I really ready for this? For him?

“And I expect obedience in bed as well as on the battlefield, my queen,” he says, a slow smile crossing his features. “Absolute obedience.”