Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (46 page)
Read Renegade (Elite Ops 5) Online
Authors: Lora Leigh
Surely he wouldn't leave without telling her good-bye.
"He wouldn't," she whispered as she felt tears dampen her eyes.
He wouldn't just walk away.
Jerking her robe on, she rushed out of her room, to the guest room, threw open the 221
door, and stared at a naked, clearly curious Nik as he turned to her.
He'd showered. There was a towel cinching his hard hips, emphasizing the tight,
hard abs of his stomach.
And he was packing his bag.
Mikayla felt her lips tremble and hastily stilled them. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to make him feel guilty because he couldn't love her.
That wasn't love, she told herself.
Her eyes turned once again to the leather bag and the clothes stacked beside it as he turned around, the fingers of one hand clenched.
"I was afraid you wouldn't say good-bye," she whispered.
His head tilted to the side, a little smile playing about his lips.
"Why would I do that, Mikayla?"
She shook her head, fighting back the tears. "I don't know."
She could feel the pain churning in her stomach now, the knowledge that she was
losing every dream she had ever had. When he walked out, all the love she had dreamed of having, of feeling, would be gone.
"Mikayla." She watched as he moved to her, like a predator, like a fierce Viking warrior easing up to her.
She wanted to cry, and she swore to herself she wouldn't. When he lifted a hand
and brushed her hair back, though, it was all she could do to hold the tears back.
"I'm not a mercenary," he stated.
Mikayla nodded. "I know."
His lips quirked.
"I'm away a lot. Being with a man like me wouldn't be easy."
He was making excuses?
"Please, Nik--"
"You said you loved me again last night, Mikayla," he said then.
And she had said she wouldn't ask for promises. But she hadn't asked for
promises; she had only told him how she felt.
What did he expect her to say? That she was sorry? Well, she wasn't, and she
wasn't about to lie about it.
"So I did." She was glaring back at him before she realized it. "It's too late to take it back now, so I guess you'll just have to live with it."
"I guess I will." His hand lifted again, cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips. "Say it again."
"What?" Confusion rocked her. "Say what?"
"That you love me."
Was this some new form of emotional torture?
"You know I love you--"
His thumb settled over her lips once more. "Say it the way you said it last night."
"I love you, Nik." She couldn't hold it back. It was the truth. If he needed to hear it before he walked out of her life . . .
"I love you, Mikayla."
She couldn't have heard him right. It wasn't possible.
"What?" She couldn't breathe. Had she heard him right? Was she losing her mind?
"Mikayla Martin, I love you," he whispered as he took her hand and slid slowly, 222
with such male grace, into a perfect kneeling position.
She watched, entranced, uncertain, suddenly so filled with hope. . . .
"I called your father this morning." Nik took her hand. "And I asked his permission to marry the most perfect, the most beautiful fairy ever created." He slid a ring on her finger. "And now, I ask you, Mikayla. Will you marry me?"
Diamonds and emeralds graced a small gold band. It was obviously a much-loved
heirloom, old and created with an eye for beauty as well as wealth.
"Nik." She stared back at him, uncertain, terrified she was only dreaming.
"Marry me, Mikayla," he said softly. "Don't make me go out into the cold again. I don't think I could live like that after knowing your warmth."
"Yes." She wasn't hesitating. If it was a dream, if she was hallucinating, then she wanted it all. "Oh, God, yes."
The dream was real. The ring on her finger, the man who rose to pull her into his
embrace, the kiss that touched her lips.
"Your parents are on their way over," he groaned against her lips. "Those damned brothers of yours. Something about celebrating."
She wasn't hallucinating.
"I love you, Nik," she whispered against his lips. "Always."
"Always, little fairy," he whispered back. "I'll love you forever."
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EPILOGUE
One year later
The bride wore antique white, and if the smooth silk looked just a little full at the stomach, then no one mentioned it.
The groom wore black, his long blond hair tied back, his expression fierce as he
watched his bride walk slowly up the aisle.
He could feel his hands trying not to shake.
If ever she had looked like a fairy, then it was now. Ethereal, petite, and delicate.
A dream he had never allowed himself to have until she was forced into his life.
Now, he would die for her. He would kill to keep her.
Her and the child she carried within her.
Their child.
Nik couldn't believe he had the courage, but his Mikayla was courage itself.
Determination.
Strength.
Love.
She was his soul, and he had no shame admitting it.
He stepped to her, her graceful fingers lying against his arm as he stared down at her.
His perfect, beautiful fairy.
Amethyst eyes stared up at him, sparkling with tears and with joy behind the
antique lace of the veil.
It was her dream wedding. She was his dream bride.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together . . ."
The priest's words droned on. The vows were in Nik's soul, tied to hers, wrapping
them together with silken, unbreakable bonds.
His bride.
They called him Renegade, but his Mikayla would now call him husband. And to
Nik, "husband" was a far better word.
"You may kiss the bride."
His fingers actually shook as he lifted the veil, curved his arm around her, pulled her to him, and in that kiss they sealed the vows they had made a year before.
To love forever.
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