The Vines Of Blood And Ash ( Book Two of the How Deep the Roots Go series)

Chapter 39

Temperance watched the days pass, the eclipse of the mission casting its shadow over her like a vise, strangling the compass of her soul. Though fear no longer rooted inside of her, the idea that she was betraying her husband slithered within like an insidious enemy. She was breaking one of the cardinal rules of marriage by deceiving him — by concealing her true intent with the mission.

Wyatt, Violet and Titus were supposed to head over to the house tonight. All of them were to go over the meticulous plan that Roman had lay out yet again and then sleep, leaving at dawn the next morning. Unbeknownst to the men,  Temperance intended to leave in the morning hours without them. Violet had already breached her mind, discovering her plan. She vowed that she would not speak of her discovery. She wouldn't betray the bond they shared, Violet promised, even though it was not in her best interest, Violet scolded.

If it were not for the heart in which Roman had, his unwavering devotion and protection of her, Temperance knew that she would have crumbled long ago. Now she bore this burden of secrecy, this task for the Nine Choirs entirely alone — by choice and free will, this was her very own destiny to fulfill.

As she stood in front of the mirror in their master bedroom, her head tilted to the side with curiosity, her right hand sliding to the flat of her stomach. She frowned with worry, her eyes closing briefly. She knew the baby inside her had strength from her and Roman — a gift, she was certain, was bestowed at conception, just like it had been with both her and Roman.

"You look radiant," Roman whispered from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts.

Caught off guard, her eyes rested on his in the reflection, a smile debuting on her lips. He leaned on the frame of the door, his body a notable presence.

"So do you," she uttered, turning around, her hands clasped in front of her.

He chuckled, walking toward her. Once he reached her, his hand touched the side of her cheek, his fingers barely grazing there. "I think that is debatable, my love," he said.

She noticed his face was expressive in thought, as if the world were seated on his shoulders.

"Roman, what is wrong?" she asked.

His eyes searched hers, an edge to the black of them. "Tomorrow weighs heavy on me," he started.

She nodded, acknowledging his statement; afraid she'd give everything away with the tone of his voice and break apart in front of him.

"Nothing to fear but fear itself," she confessed, her eyes falling to the floor.

Roman shook his head in disgust and turned her around so that she was facing the mirror again. He stood behind her, his hand then moving possessively over her belly, the warmth of it felt through her thin blouse, his breath falling on the nape of her neck.

"How can you be so calm, Temperance?" he asked calmly.

She flinched at the sternness in his voice. "My mother used to tell me that when danger presented itself I was to hold arms like I have the courage of a King," she returned, reflecting with the memory. Her eyes lifted to his, her chin rising slightly.

"Even Kings fall, my love... and they do have fear, I'm afraid," he said with sadness.

Temperance licked her lips, steadied her eyes to his. "I do fear, Roman... But I will not, for one second, ever show it."

"My God, you fascinate me," he said hoarsely. "There are literally demons at your doorstep, and still, you cling to hope like it's ingrained in you, without breaking or showing any form of surrender."

"Never," she promised.

He cupped her face with both his hands, brought it close to his. "That is one of the many reasons I love you," he whispered against her lips before he possessed her mouth as if it were the last time he would do so.