Pure Destiny (PureDark Ones #12) - Aja James Page 0,56

he preferred always to attack. Because of that, she designed and tested a variety of armor fit for his body, made out of different material, from chained metal to animal hide.

She used her knowledge of healing arts to derive the most potent salve for his wounds, something that both numbed the pain as well as staved off disease and festering. And when she needed help finding herbs, or the right people to talk to and work with, Cambyses always helped her. He never once admonished her for her strange, unladylike pursuits. He never asked her why she insisted that he send these supplies to Dalair under his name rather than give credit where it was due.

Kira was extremely grateful for her husband’s quiet understanding.

“No need,” she finally answered.

Then she turned to Cambyses to embrace him in an impromptu hug.

“You know I love you very much, don’t you, Cam?” she murmured into the crook of his neck.

He smelled wonderful. Clean, spicy, with a hint of sweetness. He smelled like a delectable treat rather than a male she would ever be attracted to.

Whereas, her nose still retained the scent of Dalair even now—male musk, desert heat, horse, leather and sweat. Just the memory itself made the core of her pulse with wanting.

She was the world’s most shameful wife.

“Of course, darling,” Cambyses replied, gently smoothing his hands over her hair and down her back.

“As much as I love you,” he said. “You are my best friend. My help-mate. My lovely Kira.”

“Do you ever wish…we were more?” she whispered.

Cambyses deserved so much more than what she’d been able to give him.

He squeezed her tight briefly before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I endeavor not to make wishes that don’t have a chance of coming true, my love,” he replied softly. “I am grateful for your companionship, dearest. Have I told you that lately? Don’t ever leave me.”

He paused briefly before adding so low she almost didn’t hear, “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I won’t leave you, Cam,” she promised, hugging him with all the un-wifely love in her heart.

And yet, shortly thereafter, she broke that promise.

In more ways than one.

Chapter Ten

Was it her imagination or were they losing altitude? It was hard to tell with the onset of night.

About an hour ago they’d started gradually changing direction. It’d been so subtle, she didn’t notice at first, thought they were just circling around some adverse air currents or dangerous topographies. Now, they were headed directly due north instead of northeast.

Or, at least, that was Sophia’s best guess. She’d never been great with directions. And now that the sun was down, given the lack of attention to where they were going, so concentrated was she on her inner battle for Dalair’s heart and soul, she completely lost track of where they could be.

But they were definitely flying lower. At some point, they’d entered into mountainous territory, far away from the twinkles of city lights.

She could barely see anything in the dark, but sometimes, she caught glimpses of treetops. They were flying over forests, she ascertained with a quick look down from her side window, the movement stretching her arm and pulling on the hand that was still gripping Dalair’s tightly.

He flexed his fingers in response, holding onto her, and that gave her more hope than anything else he’d done over the past hour.

She couldn’t see his expression despite the faint, eerie glow from the dashboard. It didn’t matter. She was certain he’d be wearing the same impenetrable mask he always wore.

Even before his turning, Dalair had been closed off. He seldom showed how he felt, and even less verbalized his emotions. He’d always kept everything bottled inside. Not even Cambyses could get him to share much, despite the former’s relative verbosity.

No. Dalair was a man of action. He proved his loyalty with fists and feet, blood and sweat. He defended, protected, fought, conquered.

And he loved. Oh, how passionately he loved!

With his hands, his lips, every part of his entire body. How he shook and trembled. Arched and undulated. How he thrust and held, clenched and released.

She recalled the first night he’d returned, unexpected and unannounced, from the war. When he came to her in the blackness of night.

She didn’t know his reasons at first; she only found out the morning after, and only by reading between the lines of what Cambyses told her. Once again, Dalair was tasked with impersonating his brother. In order to sire a son on the “cursed” foreign princess. To protect