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Zevran looks down at me. With the sunlight catching the angles of his face, there’s no mistaking what he is. Dangerous, expensive, and entirely certain of himself.
The corner of his mouth curves up.
Before I can ask what he’s smiling about, he bends and scoops me up in one fluid motion, one arm under my knees and one behind my back, lifting me effortlessly three feet in the air against his broad chest.
My uninjured arm wraps around his neck automatically. “What are you doing?”
He smiles down at me and takes his keys out of his pocket. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m carrying my wife across the threshold of our home.”
I’m still getting used to the sensation when a thought comes to mind, and I laugh. Actually laugh, the sound surprising me as it escapes. “You’ve carried me before, remember?”
“Over my shoulder like a sack of grain? That doesn’t count,” he says, and carries me through the front door.
He sets me down just inside, keeping his arm firmly around my waist as he looks at me with an expression I haven’t seen on his face before.
“Welcome home,” he says softly.
The word flutters hopefully in my chest, and it has everything to do with the man who’s carried me inside.
I look at him.
My home.
He kisses me slowly, his hand cupped against my jaw, and I let myself have this moment. All of it. The impossible fact of being here and being kissed by this man.
When he lifts his head, I’m slightly breathless.
“Let me give you the tour.”
The interior of the house is just what the exterior promised.
Zevran keeps his large hand wrapped warmly around mine, adjusting his stride to match my own as he guides me through, switching on lights as he goes. I follow him from room to room, all filled with staggering luxury. This is what a life without money problems looks like, and I’ve never been inside one before. Sleek glass windows, a crystal chandelier, high ceilings, and acres of pale curtains.
It’s breathtaking. A sanctuary.
I glance down at my bare feet, hoping I’m not leaving bloody smudges in my wake. Zevran doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest.
He shows me a bathroom that’s vast and marble with a shower that could fit four people comfortably. A guest room. Then another. Each one immaculate.
Then he opens a door at the end of the hall. The master bedroom.
My eyes widen at the sheer scale of it. The enormous bed, the white linen, the warm, low ambient light. It looks like the most comfortable place on earth.
“You like it?” Zevran asks, stepping up behind me and wrapping both arms around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.
“It’s incredible,” I whisper, leaning my head back against his shoulder, letting his strength hold me up.
We finish the tour downstairs in the kitchen.
“You want coffee?” Zevran asks, moving toward a machine.
I settle on a stool he’s pointed to. “I would love some coffee.”
It’s strange, watching a man like him do something so ordinary. The dangerous edges of him are still there, but they’re not aimed at anything. He’s entirely focused on taking care of me.
“Your, um, house is beautiful, Zevran,” I say, feeling shy.
He stops what he’s doing and turns to me with a broad smile. “Thank you, printsessa. It’s been too large and too empty, but with you here, we will put some life into it.”
