Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(69)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Grier watched as Sev descended toward her, her breath frozen in her chest until he dropped down and landed solidly, safely beside her.

She released a strangled cry as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. The tears flowed then. Sobs racked her frame as his strong arms held her up, so firm and reassuring.

“I thought no one would ever find me.”

His hand buried in the snarls of her hair. “I wouldn’t have stopped until I found you. Come. Let’s get you out of here.” He pulled back to look at her face, his hand warm and caressing on her cheek. “Can you ride my back?”

She nodded.

His gaze searched her face. “Truly? Are you too weak? You’ll need to hold on tightly.”

She smiled tremulously. “I can hang on. Just get us out of here.”

With deft fingers, Sev quickly checked that his rope was still fastened securely about him. Satisfied, he squatted so that she could straddle his back.

“We’re ready,” he shouted up, and then they were ascending. Sev’s legs worked, his booted feet moving along the rocky wall, helping leverage them as they were hauled upward by several pairs of hands.

Grier clutched closely to him, mindful that she not choke him with her clinging arms. It seemed like forever before they cleared the top, but in reality it could only have been a few minutes.

She and Sev collapsed together in a tangled pile. He breathed heavily beside her, his hand reaching for hers, fingers lacing with her own.

“Grier!” Cleo dropped down beside her, pressing her much warmer hand to Grier’s grimy face. “Oh dear, you’re cold as ice.”

As if that was the only reminder Sev needed that she had spent the night injured and exposed to the harsh elements, he jumped to his feet and swept her up in his arms.

She rested her cheek against the warm solidness of his chest as he marched them through the same woods she had raced through last night, a real-life devil in pursuit of her, intent on stopping her from marrying Sev—even if it meant ending her life.

She moistened her parched lips. “Your cousin—”

“He’s dead.”

She lifted her head and studied the hard set of his profile. “Did you—”

“He ran in front of a carriage. I doubt he suffered.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Not as he should have. Not as I would have had him suffer.” His fiery gaze locked with hers then. “For what he’s done to you . . . what he wanted to do, he deserved far worse than a swift end.”

Shaken at the intensity of his expression, she lowered her head back to his chest, let the rocking motion of his strides lull her into deep relaxation.

Content, secure that she was free from danger and safe in Sev’s arms, she surrendered to the pulling drag of sleep.

A warm glow of light greeted Grier as her eyes fluttered open. She jerked at first, immediately back on that outcropping of rock, still hovering there, trapped on the cusp of death.

Swallowing back a whimper, she scanned her surroundings. The tension ebbed from her body as she realized she was safely tucked in her own bed, the soft sheets pulled to her chest. Warm and safe.

A familiar dark-haired head rested beside her on the bed, buried facedown in his arms.

She lightly touched the silky strands, running her fingers through the luxurious thickness.

Sev lifted his head, muttering her name as he sat upright in his chair beside her bed. Blinking, he dragged a hand over his face. “You’re awake.”

“And it appears you’re not. Why don’t you find a bed?”

“I did.” His glittering gold eyes held hers. “Yours is sufficient.”

“Sevastian.” She stroked his cheek. “You must be exhausted.”

He seized her hand, trapped it against his face. “It’s nothing compared to what I’ve endured when I thought I lost you. Grier, I can’t ever live through that again.”

She moistened her lips, remembering her time trapped on that ledge. Even before that. She remembered when she’d awakened on the floor of that lodge and confronted the harsh reality that Malcolm would never let her return to Sev. She’d been filled with regret for not telling Sev how she felt about him—that he’d come to mean everything to her. But she could do that now.

“Sev,” she began, clearing the dry scratchiness from her voice, but he didn’t let her continue.

“As soon as you’re rested and fully mended, we’ll leave for Maldania—”

“Sevastian.” She said his name sharply, determined to bare her heart to him, to expose herself as she once vowed never to do. Fear would no longer hold her back.

He looked at her, stared curiously at her face.

She could only stare back at him, conveying with her eyes the words that hung on the tip of her tongue.

A slow smile curved his mouth. “I love you, Grier.” His smile deepened. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Her breath locked in her chest. She released a gust of breath and with it the word, “No.”

His smile slipped.

“I was going to say . . .” She propped herself up on her elbows. “I love you . . . Sevastian.”

His smile returned. “Amusing imp, aren’t you?” He leaned down, brushing his mouth over hers once, twice, and then a third time. This final kiss lingered, slower and deeper, almost as though he couldn’t help himself. She was panting, clinging to his shoulders with clenched fingers when he finally pulled away.