Chapter 53

Chapter 53

“ A ndrian, what does nio mean?”

Andrian’s heart dropped to his feet.

It wasn’t the question that panicked him—not exactly. And it wasn’t the thought of answering it, either.

It was hearing that question, that word, from her lips. After all this time. When she’d told him so clearly not to call her it anymore, after he’d slipped up and done it anyways and she’d retreated from him.

And yet, there she was. Standing a few feet from him as he knelt on the cold marble floors in her ridiculous bathing chamber. Asking him the meaning of a word that had slipped from his mouth many months ago. A word he’d tried to convince himself he meant as an insult, a dig at her and her power.

A word he’d always known meant so much more.

He lifted his head, lips curling into a sad smile.

“Really? Are you sure you want to know?”

Her brow furrowed, a mark of her hesitation. But silver-gold light flickered in her forest green eyes as she lifted her chin and nodded.

Always so defiant, even to her fear. He huffed a desolate laugh and dropped his gaze to his hands, where they rested on his thighs.

“ Nio ,” he began, “is an old Leuxrithian word. My mother always told me it was special—that for her people it held special meaning, special powers.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I hadn’t thought of it in years. Not since that day she first taught it to me. I couldn’t have been older than eight years old. But then, for some reason, when I met you it just … slipped out. I couldn’t control it, just like I couldn’t control any other gods-damned thing about myself around you. I tried to convince you—convince myself —that it was some sort of insult, something you should be disgusted by. But I think eventually, I could no longer fool myself and therefore could no longer fool you.”

He knew he was rambling. The meaning was just there, on the tip of his tongue. But it was catching in his throat, and he couldn’t quite push it out.

Until she took another step closer, standing so near that her eucalyptus and jasmine scent wrapped around him. He could’ve leaned forward and rested his head on her hip if he wanted.

But he didn’t. He remained immobile, waiting for her. As he always had and always would.

“Andrian,” she repeated hoarsely. “What does nio mean?”

He exhaled. A long, steady release of breath. A weight unfurled from his chest.

The answer spilled from him.

“It means ‘moon.’ Specifically, ‘my moon.’ The Leuxrithians have stories about the moons, about how there may be two now, but that wasn’t always the case … and that wouldn’t be the way of it forever.” He looked up at her and felt his heart crack in his chest.

“It was always a word of worship, nio . It always meant I was worshiping you .”

Tears filled those magnificent eyes. The silver-gold living within the forest pulsed like a heartbeat, pushing up from her skin with each rasping breath. She lifted her hands, and they trembled slightly.

He didn’t shut his eyes until the calloused skin of her palms met his cheeks, when her fingers slid along his face and curled into the now-short strands of his hair. Her hands tightened and her scent grew stronger, heady and crisp, like a forest at night.

He couldn’t stop his sharp inhale the moment her forehead met his, her skin hot and burning against his. Her exhale brushed gently across his skin, carrying more jasmine with it.

“Andrian.” Her voice was a soft, shuddering whisper.

He smiled. “Mariah.” He hesitated and then spoke again. “ Nio .”

She shivered, the movement traveling through her body and into his own. He forced his eyes open and found his vision filled with a forest.

A tear splashed against his cheek, and he wasn’t quite sure whose it was.

“I love you,” she murmured.

They were the most beautiful words he’d ever heard.

“I love you too. Until the stars blink out of existence and the moons fall from the sky.”

She huffed against him, a breathy laugh, and pulled slightly away.

“Do you remember the last time you said that to me?”

“I do.” He grinned. “In the gallery.”

“Yes. In the gallery.” She released his face and stepped back. The loss of her was like a punch to his gut, but a look danced in her eyes. Something that kept him planted in place, still on his knees.

Something that made his pants feel a little bit tighter.

“In the gallery,” she repeated, “when you told me you would never be crazy enough to show me how much I drove you insane. Not until ‘the stars blinked out of existence and the moons dropped from the sky.’” She kept walking back, taking short, shuffling steps away from him and through the bathroom door toward her bed in the room just beyond. His gaze was locked on her as she moved, marking her every step.

But he didn’t speak.

“I take it,” she continued, hips reaching the edge of the bed. She leaned back, stretching out her long, lithe legs. “That those two things must’ve happened, hm? Or perhaps you just … changed your mind?”

“Let’s just say, nio , that I had a spiritual awakening of sorts.” His cock was hard between his legs. His body begged to go to her, the discomfort of it all bordering on painful.

But he didn’t dare move.

Not when she stood there, looking like that, after having just told him those three little words he would rip the heavens apart to hear every single moment for the rest of his days.

In the other room, she hummed. “A spiritual awakening. I like that. Or perhaps … a religious one?” She cocked her head.

His usual smirk broke free. “I don’t consider myself very religious.”

“Oh? I seem to recall someone just a few moments ago admitting to calling me a name that was always meant to worship. To worship me .” She rested her palms on the down duvet.

His body twitched. He clenched his hands into fists. “What do you want , Mariah?”

She smiled, slow and wicked.

“I want you to prove it. Show me what it means to be worshiped by you.”

Gods.

Blood pounded in his ears as breath panted from his lungs. His hands still clenched, his cock still hard, as he picked up a foot, moving to step it in front of him.

A sound—a click of a tongue—froze him in place.

“Ah ah.” She tsked. “I haven’t been to the temple in some time, I’ll admit. But I do know that when we worship, we do so on our knees .”

Her eyes blazed, her cheeks and neck flushed that beautiful shade of pink, as his smirk morphed into a wicked grin. Every inch of him was on fire; all his ice melted away.

“Not sure how you expect me to worship you from all the way over here, nio .”

“I guess you’ll just have to figure out how to get to me, then.” She leaned back further, lips twitching. “Crawling might suffice.”

He debated pushing her. Giving her a biting retort, some stinging reply. He didn’t think he’d ever crawled before in his life.

But, then again, he didn’t think he’d ever kneeled before, either.

He knew what this was. Another way to prove himself. Another way to show that she could trust him, that there was no part of him he was scared to keep from her.

So, he lowered his knee back to the floor. Dropped his hands to the cool marble.

And crawled, one agonizing movement at a time.

Her eyes blazed brighter, and her skin sparked and glowed with each step he took. His hands hit the rug beneath her bed, warm and soft, his knees following.

He didn’t stop until a bare foot on his shoulder halted him in his tracks. He raised an eyebrow, the place where their skin touched too hot and burning.

She smiled down at him, a dark queen illuminated by glowing power. “Who would’ve thought you could be such a good boy following my orders like that?”

A growl started in his chest. He sat back on his heels, snatching her foot before she could wrench it away.

“Yes, I’ll follow your orders.” He tugged on her ankle, the sound of her soft gasp as she slid across the bed shooting straight to his cock. “But only until you get in my way. Once that happens …” Andrian slid his hand up, wrapping it around her calf. He shuffled closer, hand gliding up the curve of her leg. He brushed his nose along her thigh, exhaling as he moved to the gap of bare skin between her leggings and her simple sweater.

His hand slid behind her back, thumb grazing her skin, just as his breath whispered across her stomach. Gods, her skin. Everywhere they touched, it was like lightning crackling. Raw energy and power, lust and love and heat and magic.

When she jumped at his breath, biting her lip, he smiled.

Sliding his other arm around her body, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings. His body shook, but he at least held his hands steady. He glanced up, her gaze locked on him, raw desperation and need written across her ethereal face.

But he still needed to hear it. From her.

“Do you trust me?” His words were whispered, but she heard them. He suspected with the way their bond was singing a wild song, the raw magnitude of the moment thrumming between them, he could’ve simply thought the words and she would’ve heard.

She hesitated for a moment—just one, pausing moment—before that familiar strength, that beautiful power, retook control, and she nodded.

He nodded in return, his breaths still panting against her skin. Digging his fingers into her flesh, into the material of her leggings, he gave her a single, simple command.

“Raise your hips, nio .”