Chapter 165

Arthur

My heart is breaking piece by piece as I take Iris into my arms, kissing her deeply and holding her tightly against me. At first, she tries to push away, but her attempt is feeble and I refuse to let go anyway.

I need her to understand that she’s the only one I want, the only one I’ve ever truly wanted. I can’t lose her or Miles again. Not after everything we’ve been through. We’re a family now. A real one, bound by everything that matters. I won’t let her go.

“Iris,” I murmur desperately against her lips. “Please believe me. I love you. Only you.”

Her hands clutch at my lapels, torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. I can feel the tremble in her fingers, the uncertainty in her touch.

It kills me that I’ve put that doubt in her mind. Again.

If I had a sword, I might fall on it just to prove myself to her. But I don’t, and instead, I try my best to comfort her in the best way I know how.

Finally, she chooses to pull me closer. A soft whimper cracks in her throat as she responds to my kiss. It’s a small comfort, but not enough. I need to do more.

She doesn’t resist as I press her gently back into the couch cushions, my mouth never leaving hers the whole way down. Carefully, as if she’s made of glass, I cage her beneath me and begin to touch.

“I love you,” I whisper as I trail gentle, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. She arches beneath me, a small gasp escaping her at the sensation. “I love you,” I repeat against her collarbone, my hands sliding beneath her blouse now to feel her warm skin. “I love you.” Again and again I say the words between kisses, like a prayer, a promise, a plea.

When I look up, there are tears in her eyes, glistening in the dim light from the hallway. The sight punches me in the gut. I’ve made her cry. I never wanted to make her cry.

“Don’t cry,” I breathe, brushing my thumbs across her cheeks to wipe away the first tears that have fallen. “Please, Iris. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to,” she whispers, and the words break me.

I kiss her again, and again, and again, each one more urgent, more desperate. Thankfully, blissfully, she responds in kind. I know she wants me too, wants us, wants to join with me and prove our love just as we have so many times before.

Her blouse slides off easily, followed by mine. I take my time, worshipping every inch of exposed skin with my lips, my hands, my breath. Her small whimpers urge me on, telling me that despite everything, her body, and perhaps even the wolf that might be slumbering somewhere inside of her, still remembers me, still responds to my touch.

“No one else,” I promise as I help her out of her skirt. “There will never be anyone else for me. Never.”

“Prove it.”

I intend to do just that.

Our lovemaking is slow and gentle, even reverent. I want to memorize every curve, every freckle, every small scar on her body. The stretch marks on her stomach from carrying our son. The small birthmark on her hip that I’ve kissed a thousand times. The calluses on her fingers from hours spent holding paintbrushes late into the night.

This is the woman I love. The mother of my child. My mate. My future.

Not Veronica. Not anyone else. Just Iris.

When she comes apart beneath me, crying out my name, I follow soon after, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the emotion, by everything about this moment. We cling to each other, breathing hard, neither of us willing to let go. I wish we could just absorb into each other and become one.

“I believe you,” she finally whispers against my shoulder.

Relief floods through me. It’s like a weight has been lifted, letting me breathe properly for the first time since this mess began. “Thank you,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

We stay like that for a while, tangled together on the couch, skin cooling in the night air. Iris doesn’t speak, although her occasional sniffle gives away the fact that she’s still upset, which she has every right to be. But each little sound and whimper breaks my heart even more.

Eventually, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her upstairs, leaving our clothes on the living room floor. She feels so small in my arms, so fragile despite her strength. I’ve always marveled at that about her—how she can be both delicate and indestructible at the same time.

It’s why she’s struggled so much with her newfound role as Ordan’s Luna, I think, and why she could also be great. She’s soft enough that the vultures will see her as potential prey, and yet strong enough to bounce back after every chunk of flesh they rip from her bones.

I wish I could be stronger, quicker, smarter. So she can remain soft and whole and not have to harden herself to this harsh world.

In our bedroom, I lay her gently on the mattress before climbing in beside her. She immediately curls into me, her head resting on my chest. I pull the covers over us both, including our heads, so that we’re fully cocooned. Protected from the outside world.

As we lay there, my mind wanders to the engagement ring. It’s not done yet—still being completed by the jeweler. If I had it right now, I’d propose right here, in this bed, under these sheets.

For a moment, I consider just… telling her. I want to tell her that I’m serious enough about us to propose.

But… no. She deserves better than that. A proper proposal, with the actual ring. Not some hastily offered reassurance because I’m afraid of losing her.

Iris’s breathing gradually evens out as sleep claims her, but I stay awake, watching her. Even in sleep, she continues to sniffle, and her eyes are red-rimmed with tear tracks down her cheeks. Her eyelashes are clumped together, dark against her pale skin. I hate myself for making her cry, even if the reasons were out of my control.

She’s beautiful. She’s everything. And I almost lost her. Again.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. My fingers linger on her cheek, which is still damp from crying.

And then, unbidden, an image of Veronica flashes through my mind. Her crimson lips. Her sleek hair. The scent of her…

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. Why can’t I stop thinking about her? It’s like my wolf is deliberately tormenting me, pushing these images into my mind even as I hold the woman I love.

Even if Veronica truly is my second mate, defying all laws of nature and the Moon Goddess, she’s not here. Iris is the one I’m marked to, the one who has made love to me and had my child and went through years of history with me.

Veronica is… nothing to me. Nothing but an inconvenience that I have to handle.

This has to end. As soon as I can, I’ll go to her, face to face, and reject her. Whatever this bizarre dual mate bond is, I want no part of it. I choose Iris. I will always choose Iris.

All I have to do is look her in the eye and say the words: “I reject you, Veronica.” And then it will be over.

With that thought in my mind, I tighten my arms around Iris’s sleeping form, pulling her impossibly closer. Even in sleep, even with tears still coating her face, she nuzzles against me.

I won’t hurt her again. I’ll never hurt her again. This time, I’ll keep that promise if it kills me.

With that resolution firmly in mind, I finally drift off to sleep with my one true mate in my arms.