Chapter 11: Lifting the Term

I opened the gate myself at midnight.

Cade was sitting in the dirt with his back against the post.

He looked up at me with a grey face and did not move.

"She told me I should have drowned," I said. "Lydia. In the corridor, when nobody could hear."

His eyes closed.

"I'll tell the pack."

"You'll tell them nothing. They'd say I made it up, and they'd be half right to doubt me."

"Carys."

"I'm lifting the term," I said. "Come in."

He stared at me.

"I'm not pardoning you," I said. "I want that clear.

"I'm not forgiving you, and I'm not taking it back. The bond is gone and it stays gone."

"I know."

"I'm just tired of being afraid, and I want one thing tonight that's mine."

He stood up slowly, holding the post.

I took his good hand and drew him up the path and across the threshold.

I led him into the bedroom, where the lamp was already lit.

I shut the door.

Hattie was on shift, and Rhys was on the porch, and I did not care.

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

My belly sat heavy in my lap, and my nightgown clung to it.

I was eight and a half months along, I was swollen from ankle to hip, and I had never felt so awake.

"Take off your shirt," I said.

He did.

The grey ran up his arm now to the shoulder and across his collarbone in a hard clean line.

I put my palm flat against it, and it was cold.

He shut his eyes and trembled.

"Kneel," I said.

He went down on both knees in front of me.

I pulled my nightgown up over my thighs, and over my hips, and his eyes went black with want.

I had forgotten what that looked like.

"Tell me what you want, Carys."

"I want your mouth," I said. "And I want you to do it until I tell you to stop."