Wicked Graces

Chapter Five

Hawke didn't remember falling asleep, though for the first time in months her slumber was not plagued by twisted nightmares of all the ways her lover might die before she was back at his side to protect him. In fact, she didn't remember dreaming at all, not a single threat or temptation working its way through the darkness, and as she opened her eyes she felt mysteriously rested. Almost at peace, even.

She came awake slowly, disoriented and estranged from her surroundings. The bed felt far too comfortable, the air in the room not too hot, not too cold. The pillows and duvet stuffed with warm downy feathers that whispered as she rolled from her back onto her side and found herself face to face with her sleeping husband.

My husband.

It still felt strange to call him that, even just in her mind. Not bad strange, just unexpected and glorious and wonderful in ways she was sure were going to be yanked out from under her the first moment she let down her guard. Life had a way of doing that to her. It dangled something precious before her, made her believe she only had to work to reach it, and just when she curled her fingers around to claim it, it was torn away. She'd done more than just curl her fingers around Sebastian; she sunk her claws in deep, tethered herself to him in ways that would make it damn near impossible to separate them. And now she was carrying his child. She liked to think there was nothing more permanent than that, but she'd known plenty of unwed mothers and orphaned children, both in Kirkwall and Lothering.

Just looking at him made her believe in the Maker, though she'd never admit as much to anyone. Face slack, lips slightly parted, he was almost angelic. She didn't want to wake him, but the longer she studied his face, the harder it was to resist touching. She waited years to trace her fingertip across the soft, sensual curve of his lips, to stretch her leg along his while drawing her foot up the length of his calf before inching ever closer to feel all of him against her. Daydreams of his hands on her skin, his mouth tasting hers became reality, and once he was hers completely she wanted to spend every waking moment in his arms.

Teasing fingers slipped down his chest, over the taut muscles of his stomach before crawling between the gap in his bed pants. She slid her hand against bare skin, through the wiry, short hairs trailing down his stomach. His body jerked in reaction when she traced just below his navel, a slow, confused murmur passing through those perfect lips before he absently attempted to roll away from her touch.

A coy grin found her mouth and she tucked the barest whisper of a laugh into her shoulder. It was funny to her how familiar every one of his features was as she studied them. She knew them, knew him by heart, and was sure if she were any good with charcoals she could create a perfect likeness of him with her eyes closed. But during the months they were apart she often fought to remember each precious detail and worried herself sick she might forget him before she saw him again. The tiny lines beside his lips that promised a smile was just moments away from lighting his eyes. How his long, dark brown lashes touched the tops of his cheekbones when he closed his eyes. Heavy lids hid sultry eyes so bright a color blue they rivaled the sky on a clear afternoon. He always kept his hair perfectly combed and styled, but seeing him in that state, ruffled and shaggy from sleep, only made him that much more appealing.

She hadn't thought it possible to find him more attractive, but absence certainly made her heart grow fonder. In all her life she'd wanted things: a nicer house, nicer clothes, a nicer, less resentful little brother, but she'd never pined for those things the way she yearned for Sebastian when he wasn't with her. And once she realized she was carrying his child, the ache worsened. Alone, she would lie awake every night in Kirkwall trying to imagine how he would feel when she told him, picturing the person who might be born from their union.