And in fact, he did.
I resisted, very willingly. But he managed to leave me satisfied enough that the “yes” slipped from my lips on its own when he asked me again if I wanted to be his wife. I knew I would end up accepting. Where else did I think I would go, if not to a place where my family would be? Him, and the children. There was no other place in the world where I wished to be more than in that bed that was perhaps too soft and too wide, old and smelling of cold and sun in the sheets; it was the place where I felt safest and most loved, in Alexander’s arms. Feeling beneath my fingers the powerful pulse of a heart more than human, but no less worthy of being loved because of it.
It was decided. Not only would Andre have his initiative, in some way it would also be mine.
The next mor
