The Wicked King

35

Mathew dropped me gently on the bed, his fiery eyes examining every part of my body. This was not what I had planned, but I longed for his touch just as much as he did mine.

"I dreamt of you every night in that cell," he mumbled. "It was the only thing keeping me sane. The thought of you running free, fleeing that place."

"Mathew." His name left my lips in the form of a gasp. I wanted him to tell me everything. But I wasn't sure I was ready to hear it just yet.

"I'm managing. Same as you. But I don't want to talk right now. I want you. I need you."

I watched as he lowered his body over mine. In his eyes I saw pain. His lips silenced me in a mutual agreement that now wasn't the time. We could talk later. We both needed this. To touch each other, to be close to one another.

My fingers eagerly moved to comb his flowing curls. My skin burned from the familiar sensation of his beard against my chin. It was a kiss filled with desperation. Hands moved to familiar places, leaving me breathless. His scent filled my nose. The weight of his body made me feel at home and secure, and in my mind I pleaded to the gods that I would never lose him again.

My cheeks felt wet and Mathew broke the kiss to look at me, brushing away my tears with his thumb. "I can't lose you again," I whispered shakily, running a hand through the brown tangles of hair. "I love you. I love you. I love you," I say. Giving his lips a light peck after each proclamation of my undying love for him. Mathew returned the gesture, invading my mouth with his tongue, letting me taste his adoration on his lips.

My hands reached down to grab my shirt and pull it off. Hands expertly undid my pants and push them down. I attacked my alpha's clothes, changing our positions and pushing him back down into the mattress to straddle him. Impatiently I wriggle against him, unable to resist the glorious man before me. My hands moved swiftly to pull his shirt off. That's when I noticed all the new scars on his skin. And I froze.

"You've gotten bold," he chuckles, not noticing my reaction at first. I met his eyes, admiring me in a way that made me feel cherished. But then he turned serious. He extended a hand, brushed my lips with his thumb as he cupped my cheek. "Are you okay?"

"What did he do to you?" I whispered, my fingers tracing the bright red lines across his chest and abdomen.

I watched him wet his lower lip, his eyes leaving mine. "Whatever he could think of to try to break me." Tears of pain, hate and anger flowed down my cheeks. Suddenly I was lying on my back again. The soft fabrics brushing against my naked skin and his bodyheat comforting me as he pulled me close. "It's over Adrian. You got me out of there."

"Don't.. don't you want to talk about it?"

"No. I want to enjoy you. I want to move on and plan for our future." He said as he kissed away my tears. "Plan a war if needed. But I don't want to give him the pleasure of breaking you."

"Breaking me? Mathew, we are talking about you."

I saw a strained smile on his face when he turned to face me. "You don't understand. I am managing. The pain he put me through is over. But seeing you like this hurts more than anything. And telling you all the details will only make you hurt even more."

"But we're married! I should share your pain!"

"Adrian," he whispered and kissed my lips softly, "if I feel the need to talk, you will be the first person I go to. Okay?"

"Fine," I mumbled, but worry still clung to my heart. Like a hand squeezing it slowly and painfully.

"I've missed you so much. Don't let him ruin this for us."