I lifted my eyes, finding her stony hazel ones.
With my free hand, I gripped the back of her neck, pulling her forehead to mine. “I thought you fucking died.”
“I came back,” she said, husky against my lips. “I promised you I always would.”
Her lips teased mine, begging me to kiss her.
If I kissed her now, I wouldn’t stop.
I’d fuck her on the grass while the world watched. And I wanted to. I wanted to slide inside her and pound until the feeling holding my chest hostage dissipated—the one that reminded me every minute how close I came to never holding her again.
But I needed to know something.
“Where is she?” I growled against her lips. “Where is my daughter?”
STORY
“Gemma!” Gray bellowed, throat rough and ragged with the yell, after I’d told him where Sonnet was—with his sister.
Anyone still gathered on the lawn froze, turning to stare at Grayson. I didn’t blame them, the way he’d yelled demanded anyone in a nearby radius to stop.
“She’s inside,” I said. “Hiding her in her wing.”
Without further word, Grayson dragged me inside. His grip bruising my wrist; he pulled me down the halls, yelling Gemma’s name like an invocation.
Gemma ran out of her wing, eyes wide. “What?” Her eyes bounced between me and Grayson. “Did it work? I… I’ve been watching from my window but I have the worst view—”
“Where is my daughter?” Grayson growled.
Gemma looked to me. “Is it over?”
“Where is my fucking daughter?” Grayson snarled.
“All right, okay, I see how it is.” She threw up a hand. “Watch the baby, Gemma. Save my life, Gemma.” She walked back into her room, muttering.
A moment later, she came back with a sleepy-looking Sonnet.
Gray completely froze. He gave so much away in his first look at our child. I wished I could forever commit it to memory.
His love shone in the way his pink lips parted, his blue eyes gleamed.
Then his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath. I saw every thought, every scenario, running through his head—all the ways he’d have to protect her.
“I did everything we discussed,” Gemma said. “I’ve had my music loud so no one could hear them”—them meaning Lottie’s child as well—“But no, don’t tell Gemma the important things. Apparently I’m not America’s Princess, I’m America’s fucking washcloth. Did we fucking win? Is my grandfather gonna come strolling up these halls—”
Still gripping my wrist, Grayson snatched Sonnet from Gemma.
The minute Sonnet hit his chest, Grayson’s knees buckled, and he fell to the marble. He held Sonnet to his chest, his fingers white with desperation, eyes closed.
Gemma’s mouth dropped, even she at a loss for words.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We won.”
Tears fell from his red eyes, down his perfectly carved cheekbones. It was the first time I’d ever seen Grayson Crowne cry. It was like witnessing those miracles come to life, when the marble statues of deities weep.
I was looking at the most powerful person on the planet.
He’d given up his freedom, his dreams—his everything.
For us.
Atlas.
No—king.
Seventy-Three
STORY
“Gray—”
“Don’t. Move.” Eyes still closed, Grayson yanked me down to the ground, pulling me into a violent hug.
Harsh.
Desperate.
His heartbeat in my nose.
He exhaled a breath I felt in my bones. “I thought I’d lost you both.”
“I’m here. We’re here. I named her Sonnet…I…I thought you would be okay with that. But, if you’re not—”
“Sonnet…” His eyes drifted back down to her, and he smiled. That wide Grayson Crowne smile, which speared his lips and my heart. “It’s perfect, Snitch.”
We stayed like that until the moon dipped low in the sky, and the sun heated our backs as Sonnet started to fuss. Grayson released me enough so I could feed her.
He didn’t move an inch, just watched me. Desperation burned in his eyes like the red and orange sunrise staining the sky. It breathed into the room, hotter than smoke.
A new day—new beginning.
Grayson snaked his hand around my neck, bruising my forehead against his as I fed her. “I need to fuck you.” The word fuck growled on my lips.
I licked my lips. “So fuck me, Grayson.”
He pulled back and eyed Sonnet. “I don’t want to let her out of my sight. I nearly lost you. But the things I’m going to do to you…” he trailed off, dark gaze finding mine. “She can’t watch.”
I shifted.
Ached.
Goose bumps ignited my arms, legs—everywhere. Even before we’d been separated, Grayson and I had spent too long apart. My lips brushed his—the door behind us opened.
I pulled away, focusing on the golden swirls in the marble. On my breathing. In…out… Not the twisting ache in my gut.
I was really about to fuck Grayson in the middle of the hallway.
“You’re still here?” Gemma eyed us on the floor. “The fuck? Ever heard of a bed?”
Grayson stood, hot stare still on me. “Gemma, I need you to watch Sonnet for a few hours.”
“So…let me get this straight. I’m midwife, maid, fairy godmother, and now I’m your fucking nanny?” She laughed, incredulous. “Fuck you. I’m Gemma Crowne.”
Gemma brushed past us, but Grayson’s arm shot out, gripping her and holding her in place. She wiggled her arm, trying to yank free.
“Gemma,” his voice was so low—grating. “There is no one else I trust to watch her. You saved my wife. You saved my daughter. I owe you so much—”
“Gross, stop talking this way.” Gemma shook like a thousand spiders had been spilled on her head. She looked at me, then to Grayson. “Fine. Give her to me.”
My grip tightened involuntarily on Sonnet. It was one thing to let Gemma watch her when we literally had no other options.
Grayson dropped to his knees, one palm on my cheek, the other on Sonnet’s head. “Little wife, I’m happy to just lie with you.”
“I want you,” I whispered.
Still I clutched Sonnet.
Behind him, Gemma exhaled loudly.
Bizarrely, I did trust Gemma. She’d saved us, all of us. My eyes collided with hers, and for a split second, her haughty mask slipped.
Grayson was right. She was the only one I trusted.
I held Sonnet out to Gemma, heart pounding.
She took Sonnet, walking back to her wing. “You owe me,” she called over her shoulder. “I expect her middle name to be Gemma.”
She slammed the door shut.
Grayson stared down at me, letting out a breath that rolled his entire body. His shoulders, his pecs. I expected him to tackle me, I hoped he would—but then he turned on his heel, following Gemma.
I thought maybe he’d changed his mind, decided he couldn’t let Sonnet go. Then I heard Gemma swear. Her cursing grew louder and more frequent—until he was back in the hall, slamming the door behind him and silencing her.