The Dark Heir - Nyx

49. Theia

"You what?"

Her eyes scanned his face. There was no amusement, no trace of a joke. He was serious. Nyx traced her bottom lip with his thumb, both of them sucking in a breath when he pulled out of her. Theia thought he'd sit beside her, talk through this, but he didn't. Her thigh dropped from his shoulder. He leaned back, his eyes falling between her spread thighs. Theia shivered as his fingers traced her inner thigh, or she had thought. His fingers slid up, gathering the dripping seed from the valley of her rear and pressing back into her swollen entrance. Theia gasped, her hand reaching up to cover the one that still held her cheek.

"I want you to marry me," Nyx repeated, his eyes flicking up to hers as he pumped his fingers. He repeated the motion, collecting the spilled liquid and thrusting it deep into her. Theia hips rolled, a small moan escaping as her lashes fluttered. It was such a small chance, but part of her loved the way he did that when they were finished.

"You do realize what that would mean, right?" She asked, wetting her lips. Nyx pulled his fingers from her and brought them to her mouth. Theia couldn't believe he was continuing this when he had just said something that could change the course of their lives. Something that was more important than her cleaning herself from his fingertips. Despite that, Theia parted her lips and kept his gaze as she sucked the liquid from his fingers.

"I know exactly what it means. It means you will be my wife, you will one day be the High Lady. It means that you will be mine, I will be yours, promised to each other from the honor of a Priestess."

Theia stared at him. It wasn't a common practice in Prythian. It was more so a way of lovers who are not mates to solidify their love without a bond. Feyre and Rhysand are married, but it was their way of Feyre being sworn in as High Lady. It was entirely confusing.

"I want to marry you, Theia. I think we've both suffered long enough, and I don't want anything else keeping us apart. I want for us to be seen together in the eyes of my people, the Gods. Fuck, even that damned Cauldron. I don't want to just love you, I want it to be eternal," Nyx spoke. Despite her body being rigid with shock, Theia rose on her arms and pulled herself back, sitting up against the head of the bed. Nyx sat on his heels, watching her as she watched him.

"Don't you think we are too young for that?"

Nyx scoffed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Certainly not. We're in our second century. We need to be blessed by my parents, of course, but I see no issue with it. I may have just matured when we first met, but I promise you, I have seen you as my wife since then. Let us be bound by the tethers of the Gods and let you rule by my side."

They were centuries from that, if not eternally. Rhysand and Feyre may never perish. Was that his only reason? To have a High Lady by his side?

"It's not. I love you, and I want it to be proven to all who look at us."

Theia's eyes snapped to Nyx's. "Get out of my head."

He grinned at her. "I see those wheels turning and I wanted to know what you were thinking. I don't just want you as my High Lady, Theia. I want you as my wife, my equal. I'd do anything to have you as my mate, but the Cauldron has been presented with countless opportunities to lay the bond, and it has not snapped into place. If I cannot have you as my mate, I will have you as my wife."

Theia stared at him in disbelief. A small laugh escaped her as she dropped her head into her hands. She ran her hands over her face before meeting his gaze again. All but begging, Nyx wanted her to become his wife. Of course, she'd love to marry him, but she felt like this love was so fresh. They'd only just rekindled their feelings and soothed the tension with his father. Marriage seemed far too quick.