Lucy

I kiss the hollow of Roan’s throat where his collarbones meet, deep tenderness softening my lips as I think of his story. My touch makes his pulse race, and I close my eyes, imagining the warmth of my mouth melting his silence, opening his voice. He smells of horse, leather, pine, and pure Roan, and relief mingles with tension, desire dances with contentment.

“You know how JT has the Sight?”

Roan shifts slightly so that he can look down into my face. His gray eyes are shadowed and his long, glossy black hair is pulled back so that firelight shines on his high cheekbones and is absorbed into the dark stubble of his jaw. He’s so beautiful.

This man spent the last two months hunting in the wilds, numbing his soul to exact revenge. I feel it in him, and can see it written on his face; the grooves around his supple lips are deeper, shadows haunt his eyes, and the scar on his cheek has hardened into a ridge.

He’s a killer, a hunter, an angel of death fighting for good.

My father was a man who pretended to be evil to bring justice. Maybe it’s true what they say, that every girl ends up with some version of her dad. I never knew mine, but that doesn’t mean I can escape my fate. Roan is the father of my child, and I love him with every fiber of my being.

Roan strokes my back. “JT has mentioned the Sight and his intuition. I understand it’s what pushed him to buy the Haven and prepare for the Scorching.”

I nod and snuggle closer, kissing the hollow of his throat again, letting my lips linger there, stroking that tender place with my fingertips, enjoying the way Roan tightens and warms beneath me.

“I can sense emotions. I’ve started calling it a knowing. When we were in the caves, I could actually see the men as balls of color, even through the stone. I’m sure you won’t be surprised that most of them were red.”

Roan’s heart pumps harder as remembered trauma tightens his grip on me. “The red film of battle. I know it well. So, this knowing is how you led us out?”

“Yes.” I fit my head under his chin. I can’t get close enough; he can’t hold me tight enough. He tenderly kisses my forehead, encouraging me to go on. “When Kane had me, he waterboarded me for information. I felt close to death, my lungs on fire, my heart about to burst.”

Rage blooms inside of Roan and thrums through his body. I stroke his chest, trying to ease it with my touch. “A barrier broke in me. All of a sudden this knowing came to me, an amplification of something I’ve always had.” I look up into Roan’s face, placing my palm against his cheek, the dark shadow of his beard rough beneath my hand. “I’ve always been good at sensing people’s emotions and reading them. That’s how I knew that you liked and wanted me, no matter how hard you pushed me away.”

“I’ve never been good at hiding from you.”

“Except for when you ran off for two months.” I smile, but the pain of his absence vibrates through me, followed quickly by a wave of fear.

What if he leaves again?

“I’m sorry.” Roan pulls me close, sorrow wrapping around the red of rage and quenching it. “It won’t happen again.”

“Like I said, I forgive you.” I tilt my head up and his lips are right there. We kiss, our mouths meeting as his fingers squeeze my waist. My breath is gone, the cabin is gone. All there is in the world is Roan, me, and the magic we make. A growl vibrates in his chest, warning me how close he is to taking me. Roan’s eyes blaze with desire and his emotions are an incredible glittering purple.

But I need to tell him more, so I push back, dragging in a deep, shuddering breath.

“I can forgive you because I know exactly what you’re feeling.” I stroke his chest. “And I knew what Kane felt when he cut off my finger. I know my mother’s feelings about the life inside of me.”

Roan frowns. “That sounds…terrible.”

I shake my head because ‘terrible’ is the wrong word. The knowing is a gift and a curse—wind and rain, sunshine and sunburn. The good and the bad are often intertwined. “My perception, my knowing, has settled down since it first started, but that’s how I understand what you’ve been through. I feel it myself, and forgive you.”

“I guess I got lucky.” And I do feel it in him, a rock-solid center, a new purpose—protecting and loving me and our baby for the rest of his days. But, still…I can’t take it if he leaves me again, especially now.

“Lucy, look at me.” I let his eyes find mine, iron-gray with seriousness. “I never could’ve stayed away, baby or not. I need you the way trees need the sun, the way a river runs to the sea…” his voice falters. “You know how hard it is for me to find words. I love you so much.”

My eyes sting with tears. “I know that’s true, Roan. And I love you. I love the wounds deep inside you and the man they’ve created; you are good and brave and strong and capable of such greatness. Of deep love and a full, rich life. I love that you can make things, kill things, love things; you are everything to me. But I just have to say it. I have to tell you that if you leave me again, I will never be able to recover. My faith will be gone. I’ve sensed in my brothers that parenting brings up new fears, new love…bigger emotions than ever before. I know that you can handle it. But I can’t see that you will.”

“Lucy,” his voice is quiet and rough. “I swear, I will never leave you again. It hurts me that you doubt me.”

Hot tears slide onto my cheeks. “I don’t want to.”

“Will you marry me, Lucy?” Roan’s heart hammers underneath my hand. “I can hardly ask because I feel…so undeserving. But will that take away some of your fear? Will that make you feel better?”

A laugh bubbles up. “It would certainly make my mom feel better.” Roan looks down at his chest, where my left hand is resting, missing its finger. “I don’t really have the digit for it.” I wiggle the three remaining, trying for lightness.

Roan picks up my hand and holds it gently in both of his.

“I’m sure your family won’t be pleased with me asking you, being with you. But I love you, Lucille Luciano. I would do anything for you. I’d die for you.”

“No, Roan. Live for me. Live with me.”

He doesn’t answer, just raises my hand to his mouth and kisses the place where my ring finger used to be. I shudder with desire as his beautiful lips touch my scarred stump. I’d dreamed of a diamond on that finger…but I’d rather have Roan’s touch any day.

“Yes,” I breathe out. Roan captures my answer with a searing kiss.

As good as it was to be with him in my dream, reality is even better.

In our shared vision, the cabin was gilded in gold; now it is shadowed and flickering in amber. Real life is not all smooth and glossy—it is also rugged, like Roan’s callused fingers against my smooth skin, the prickle of his beard against my cheek, the reality of this encounter compared to the fantasy of our dream.

In the dream we were both naked, now we fumble with our clothing to return to that state.

Our bare bodies finally intertwined, we snuggle and kiss. His voice is a murmur against me, whispering that he loves me, branding each spot “mine, mine, mine,” as he moves down my body. He places soft kisses on my belly. “Hello in there little one.” His voice is almost a song. “I love you.”

Roan moves down, his tongue exploring, his fingers stroking.

He reaches my center and I open for him.

Fear still pulses in both of us, even as we claim each other, embracing our new life. Life demands fear, because death is always near in this harsh new world.

Even with the vaccine and the protection of my family, with the advantage of my knowing and Roan’s ruthlessness, we are still vulnerable. Our union strengthens us and weakens us, because to lose one is to lose the other. But it’s the sense of lingering death that makes life so much brighter, makes it more beautiful than any dream, makes it worth living.

In the dream, we were perfection.

In this cabin, we are real.

We’re lovers, future husband and wife who are going to be parents.

Pulsing waves of pleasure radiate from me. I shatter and am reborn, infused with love, gratitude, and goodness.