Sons of Lyra: Slave Princess (8 page)

“
Tutor? You’re
learning Lyran?” He pulled back, his brows raised high.

“
I want to be
able to speak to you properly, without this.” She tapped the device
in her ear. “Lyran is such a beautiful language... I’ve learned to
say so many things.”

She removed his translator
and her own again, and tossed them into the room, not caring where
they landed.

“
Kishia wa,”
she whispered against his mouth.

He did. He pulled her
close and kissed her hard, stealing her breath and making her head
spin. She hadn’t expected him to react so strongly to her speaking
his own language. Feeling the urgent need to breathe, she pressed
against his shoulders. He released her with a sheepish
smile.

She kissed him briefly and
then turned in his arms so her back pressed against him and she was
facing the outside world. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders
and then slipped them under her arms and rested his hands on her
belly. She placed hers over them and smiled as she looked out at
the panorama.

Now it was truly
beautiful. With Balt here with her, it was perfect. Never in all
her years had she thought that her life could turn out this way.
Never had she thought she could find someone who loved her so much
and made her feel as though she was a princess.

He swept the hair from her
neck and pressed a kiss to it and then one to her cheek. His breath
tickled her ear.

“
Aishin... yoi
aishin... tatui... tatui... wa naima.” He peppered her cheek with
kisses and held her close.

She leaned her cheek
against his and sighed.

He loved her.

Always.

She smiled as she
translated the last two words.

Not a princess.

His queen.

The
End

###

About the
author

Felicity Heaton
is a great believer in love at first sight and the romantic ideal.
Having grown up reading extensively, she developed a deep love of
classical literature, ranking Jane Eyre, North & South, and
Persuasion amongst her all time favourite reads. The most romantic
moment of her life was when her husband got down on bended knee on
the steps of Sacré Coeur, Paris, at night in front of several
hundred spectators and proposed. She was too drunk on love, and
subsequently champagne, to care about the audience. All she could
see was the man that she loved. A writer of emotion and life, she
always strives to touch a chord of familiarity in her readers and
give them characters they can love and a read to
remember.

Connect with
me online:

Website:
http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk

Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/felicityheaton

Blog:
http://felicityheaton.blogspot.com/