She was so fucking precious to him.
“Don’t try to change the subject,” she reprimanded with a teasing poke. “You’re going to have to answer for destroying my entire wardrobe in one night.”
His hands roamed the silken skin of her back, creating chill bumps of his own. He’d never tire of the feel of her. Never cease to marvel at the unnatural softness of her fairy skin. It was like stroking a miracle. Holding an angel. A woman like this just—didn’t belong on this wretched earth. “You won’t be needing clothing for quite some time,” he informed her. “For I plan to keep you naked for as long as I’m able.”
She pulled herself out of his embrace to execute a dramatic flop onto her back with her hand held to her forehead. “Maybe you should reconsider a harem of courtesans.” She sighed. “I don’t think I’ll survive the bed of the infamous Blackheart of Ben More.”
Dorian rolled to his side to lord over her prone, pale flesh, his hand tracing the distracting underside of one perfect breast. “Do you want to help me interview them?” he asked lightly.
She swatted his hand away with a dangerous look. “Of course not!” she huffed, only half joking now. “I’d scratch the eyes out of any woman who dares to touch you.”
Dorian’s hand returned to her breast, his fingers working their way toward the other one. “I had no idea you were so ruthless, Lady Blackheart,” he teased, lapping at a nipple and then blowing on it for the sheer joy of watching it pucker.
“Oh my, yes.” Her boast was interrupted by an airy gasp. “I’ve shot a man, you know, and stabbed one. I can be quite dangerous when I need to be.”
Dorian sobered, his lungs deflating as he ran his large hands down the delicate line of her arm. It struck him again how fragile she was, how easily broken, how easily lost. “Is being a woman just terrifying all the time?”
Farah’s smile faded, but a playful glint still remained in her sweet, silvery eyes. “What a question. Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re so—soft, so frail,” he marveled. “Like a morsel of the rarest delicacy just waiting to be preyed upon. And we men, we are nothing better than wolves—no, vultures. Bloody predators,” he cursed. “How do you ladies muster the courage to leave the house? Better yet, why do I allow it?” He started thinking of all the dangers the world possessed for her beyond his arms and his palms began to sweat.
She traced the long scar he’d received from a dock pirate blade years ago. “Don’t you think you’re letting your—singular life experiences cloud your view just a little? I lived among dangerous criminals and bohemians for almost twenty years without being preyed upon.” Heat warmed the silver of her irises to a darker gray-green. “And more’s the pity, as I find I quite enjoy being your prey.”
That unsettling possessive instinct flared, the one he’d first felt in Applecross’s library. “Only mine,” he declared to the night.
“I’ve only ever been yours,” she affirmed.
He stared down at her, his heart in his throat. “I—love you, Farah.”
She blinked rapidly, a mist appearing in her eyes. “I love you, too, Dorian.”
He captured her chin, forcing her to look into his face. “You don’t understand. I’ve always loved you. From the moment I saw you in that graveyard I loved you with the strength of a man. So much, it terrified me more than you can imagine.”
To his astonishment, her face fell, a troubled wrinkle appearing between her brows. “Did you just not realize?”
“I’ve always known.” He captured a ringlet with his finger, the action something he’d dreamed about for years and that he planned on doing for the rest of his life.
The wrinkle only deepened. “Then—why did you deny it before? Why did you break my heart when I offered it to you?”
Shame pierced at him, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “In my world, if you care for something, it is a weakness your enemies can use against you.”
“I don’t care about that.” Farah covered his hand with hers. “What else?”
“It’s what I’ve said before,” he muttered, trying to find the words to express the depth of his dysfunction. “I was—am broken. I’m not only afraid of causing you harm in my sleep, but that if I allowed myself to love, to hope, the force of my love would consume you, destroy you, somehow. I don’t know. Smother or repulse you.”
She soothed his agitation with her touch, and he loved that he no longer flinched away, but melted into the warmth of her caress.
“That’s not what love does,” she whispered, lifting her head to press a kiss above his heart. “Of course it’s all-consuming, but love—real love—doesn’t destroy or smother. It’s the very opposite of a weakness. Love strengthens. It liberates. It molds itself to every fiber of your being and fortifies you where you may be broken. It is as necessary to the body and soul as food or water. It couldn’t repulse me. I can only be humbled and awestruck by the most precious gift of your love.” Her voice cracked and her eyes spilled tears she’d been holding back. “It is what I always desired the very most in this world, from the moment I saw you. Angry and wounded in the Applecross graveyard. I wanted to keep you, to hold you like this and teach you love.”
Dorian’s throat burned. Her words. Her eyes. Her tears. He couldn’t stand the sight of them without his heart expanding until his chest might burst. Jaw clenched, he blinked at a foreign blurriness in his eyes.