Arabella's and Hardin's story continues....
After almost three years of blissful marriage, and reigning as King and Queen, our star crossed lovers can't find a single fault in their perfection of a life.
Then, it gets even better with a special deli...
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I was floating on a soft pillowy cushion, my back sinking effortlessly into the dewy cloud. My body wrapped in the finest silkiest cloths I had ever felt.
God, I could die here.
In a way, I did feel like I was dead. I was flying, high and wild. Covered in the softest material, feeling lighter than ever. Seeing my dead husband. Because that what he was. Dead.
Months I mourned him, had a funeral, fallen into the deepest depths of grief and mourning anyone has ever felt. Plunged into endless pain, still it hurts. And the guilt, the swarming excruciating guilt that had fuelled my actions, my emotions, my life.
And Elliot. The man who saved me from that.
Hardin couldn't be alive because that meant these past months had been a lie. That meant...that meant...the love of my life had come back from the dead. The love of my life has returned to me.
***
Sitting up, I inhaled loudly, sucking in as much air as I could. The bright light was painful to my eyes, forcing me to blink a bunch of times just to see straight.
Water was thrust to my mouth, and forced down my throat. I choked a little bit but the replenishment kept coming, soaking my dry and hoarse throat until I was satisfied.
It was set down with a clunk, the water sloshing up to the edge. A hand grazed mine, slowly, as if testing the waters, and then our fingers became entwined.
I squeezed first, a sign of needing more, needing him. Then he repeated my move and I knew he was, I knew this was real.
Gasping, I lifted myself off the bed with such momentum that the world started to slowly spin. A hand steadied me, the other still clutching mine tightly.
I let myself finally lookup. And fuck was it a sight.
Brown tendrils, now long and thick, ending just below his shoulders with heavy stubble, almost a full beard covering almost half his face. Riveting silvery eyes, the same ones that bore into mine night after night, as we made love, fucked hard and cuddled.
The same eyes I married, the same face I married.
Small bruises caused discolouration all over his neck and face, one of his eyes was a little swollen and black but he was still perfect. He was still my husband.
Silent tears trailed down my cheek, and slowly I raised a hand to gently touch his face. Zing. A spark transferred from skin to skin, causing my body to ignite in goosebumps.
I let my palm fall against his cheek, cradle it and then sunk into his longing touch. "I missed you so much baby," He whispered, his voice as deep and silkier as ever.
A choked sob racked in the back of my throat, and I slowly leant forward until our noses brushed and foreheads collide, pressing them against each other with force.
