When I opened my eyes, the sky had turned deep indigo.
“Honestly—it’s the first evening of our honeymoon and it’s already ‘night!’ Ahh!”
A spoonful of soup was slipped into my open mouth by my husband.
‘Chew, chew.’
Soft, finely chopped mushrooms yielded under my teeth.
‘Warm and smooth and absolutely delicious.’
I blinked at the seafood risotto beside it, eyes brightening. It was heaped generously with fat prawns, mushrooms, and an assortment of ocean treasures.
Kael gave a quiet laugh and loaded a large spoonful of risotto to feed me.
“That’s too much—!” ‘Gulp.’
‘Chew, chew.’
“This is wonderful. So good! The prawns are so plump!”
My shoulders lifted involuntarily with the pleasure of it. Something about the way the freshness of the sea came through in every bite—it felt like the ocean itself had been captured in the ingredients and was washing through me in flavors.
“You eat with such delight. Makes me want to keep feeding you.”
“Mm—what?”
Kael was shaking his head with a faint smile as he twirled a forkful of seafood cream pasta and held it directly under my nose.
“That’s too big! It won’t fit!”
“It will.”
Will it, though?
I swallowed, opened my mouth as wide as I dared, and—it fit, just barely.
The pasta was springy and rich, the cream clinging thickly to every strand.
When the shellfish and prawns popped between my teeth, a small tremor ran through me.
“This is incredible!”
“You’re getting it on your face again.”
“Where?”
He didn’t answer—only looked at me for a moment, then reached out. He rubbed the corner of my mouth with his thumb, then brought his thumb to his lips.
“That’s—that’s unclean! Why would you—there’s a napkin right here, use that—”
I scrambled to grab a napkin and thrust it toward him.
“What’s unclean about it. I’ve had worse.”
“W—worse how?”
He glanced toward my lower half and tilted his chin.
“You—you’re absolutely—honestly—”
“Which makes me suddenly hungry, I find.”
“I—what did you just—”
Kael pushed his chair back with a low drag of wood against floor. He crossed to me in an instant and picked me up.
I yelped and struggled with all the energy I had.
“Not again! I’ve only been awake for an hour!”
“And I’ve been patient for an entire hour.”
“You’re not a person, you’re a—a ‘beast!’ Even an animal wouldn’t do this all day! You’ll kill me!”
“You won’t die from this.”
“Maybe ‘you’ won’t die. ‘I’ will—!”
I pressed my balled fists against his back and kept pushing as we arrived at the stateroom in no time at all.
‘Whump.’
He dropped me onto the bed. I immediately rolled over and started crawling toward the far edge.
“I’m getting off! I mean it—if you do this again today, I ‘will’ die!”
Just a little further and I could roll off the side—
But then he caught my ankle and pulled me back in one smooth motion.
“This is not a honeymoon! It’s eat, do that, wake up and eat again! That’s all this is!”
“Exactly.”
He turned me over and climbed over me. His fingers went to his shirt buttons and undid them with casual efficiency.
The muscles of his chest shifted and tensed under my stare—carved and densely layered, looking directly at me.
I flailed under him, hands and feet both.
“I said ‘no!’ Not today, not any more today!”
“You can do it. Come on.”
Kael gathered both my wrists above my head and pinned them there. His other hand found the hem of my dress and pulled it free in a single motion.
“Ugh, ‘seriously—’ ‘hh!'”
I kept struggling, and he finally raised his head from my chest to look at me.
His lips were deeply flushed and glistening. His red eyes burned with a brightness that didn’t quite belong in the daylight hours.
“Let me show you what truly indecent looks like.”
* * *
‘Mm…’
Blink.
Several slow, heavy blinks, and the room came back into focus by degrees.
A familiar feeling. Warm water up to my chin, blurry sight, soft bubbles floating at the surface, and—
Something from my husband, making its presence known against my lower half.
Formidable as ever, pressing with considerable insistence into my backside.
My instincts engaged immediately.
“I’m bathing myself!”
“Stay still. I’ll do it.”
He was kneading my body through a layer of soap lather.
“You’re not ‘bathing’ me—you’re ‘groping’ me!”
“You can’t bathe without touching.”
He truly never lost a single round.
Unable to win with words, I thrashed and made my one-hundredth attempt to escape the bathtub.
Water heaved and splashed over the sides.
“Struggling only makes it worse.”
“…”
I clasped both hands together and settled meekly onto his lap.
* * *
When I shifted, the blanket rustled softly around me.
‘Mm.’
Everything felt pleasantly heavy—the kind of warmth that comes after lying in a bath for too long. A deep, comfortable lassitude that had nothing unpleasant about it.
I pressed myself toward the warmth nearby.
‘Mm.’
A familiar smell. My favorite smell in the world. The smell of my husband.
I tapped with one finger and felt solid muscle underneath. Hard and large and warm—
‘Tap. Tap.’
“Ivelina. Time to wake up.”
He murmured in a low, unhurried voice, tapping the tip of one finger against my cheek.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I was already awake, but I kept still and pretended otherwise.
I knew perfectly well why he wanted to wake me up. It wasn’t to play chess.
‘Mm.’
I shifted, rolling as though restless in my sleep, and turned my back to him.
“What did I say about turning your back?”
‘Mm.’
I made a show of stirring and swiftly turned to face him again. He had, in the past, used my turning away from him as justification to start again.
‘The excuse changes, but the conclusion is always the same. He’s going to do it regardless.’
Never turn away from him. Absolutely not.
‘Poke.’
He pressed a finger into the small of my back.
“‘Eek!'”
My back was sensitive. Extremely ticklish.
I bit down on my frustration.
‘Damn.’
“What did I say about pretending to sleep?”
A calculating hand found its way toward me.
I was pounced on again.
* * *
I woke to find him above me, and I batted at him until he fed me dinner.
I fell asleep, and woke to find him above me again.
Then I fell asleep, and there was breakfast in the morning.
This cycle repeated for five full days.
* * *
On the morning of the sixth day aboard the ship.
In a few hours, the cruise would reach its end.
I confirmed that my husband was asleep, then slipped carefully out of bed and padded to the window.
A brilliantly full moon hung above the sea, rocking gently with the motion of the water. The moonlight painted the surface in pale silver.
I pressed my hands together and closed my eyes.
“Moon.”
I whispered so quietly he wouldn’t hear.
“I want a child who looks just like my husband.”
‘If a baby comes, I will love them so well. More than anything in this world.’
‘So please. Please hear my wish.’
‘…Wait.’
‘”They say babies come later the more desperately you want them, my lady.”‘
I flung my hands apart and began whispering rapidly at the sky.
“I—not too desperately! Only the very smallest amount! I’m so sorry!”
* * *
