Mina Wentworth and the Invisible City by Meljean Brook Page A

I’ll roll over and crush you.”
    “But you still hold me through the night, and manage to sleep.”
    “I shouldn’t even risk that. God, Mina, you deserve better.”
    “You are the better I need.” She turned in his arms, lifted her hands to his tortured face. “Did you know my mother did the same to me? After she realized that she’d been raped, after she’d mutilated her eyes, I was still hers —and she slept beside me every night. Later, she said that she lived in fear of rolling over on top of me . . . but that a part of her always knew I was there, even in sleep. A part of you knows it, too. Trust that.”
    He closed his eyes. “I want to.”
    “I know it’s difficult for you.” She smoothed her fingers down his rough jaw. “This is new.”
    His laugh was harsh. “It is that. I have never belonged to someone before. I’ve been a slave, I’ve been used—but they never owned me. But you, Mina. You could destroy me with a word.”
    “Trust that I never would.”
    “I do. But if I lost you, if you were hurt . . .” He shook his head, met her eyes again. “I know you’ll be fine. You’re clever, strong, and fast. Newberry is devoted. I know that I worry too much. Yet when you come home with just a scratch, I can’t even think until I—”
    “Shag me.”
    His laugh rumbled through his chest again. “You’ve noticed.”
    “Yes.” She rose up, touched her lips to his. “But this is part of being family. We worry. We trust that we’ll take care of each other, that we’ll find a way. And we can’t solve every problem, but we’ll try to make them easier for each other to bear.”
    “I’d bear anything for you.”
    “I don’t want you to have to.” Her fingers traced the shape of his mouth. “Perhaps only time can solve this one. Until then, I swear that I will do everything in my power to come home every night, and I will keep coming home. Eventually, you’ll be more comfortable with the idea of me being out there.”
    He kissed her in reply, a soft and searching taste. When his head lifted, they were both short of breath. “And is there anything that you fear, Mina? Anything I can make easier for you to bear?”
    There was so little. Only—“I wonder, sometimes, if you enjoy being married to me. If it suits you.”
    “Do I enjoy being married . . . ?”
    He trailed off as he stared down at her, his face darkening. Determination set his jaw. Her heart stopped as he swept her up and started for the bed.
    “I love being married to you, Mina.” His voice was rough. “Let me show you how much.”
    * * *
    Mina was his. Absolutely his.
    Rhys had never realized how completely he’d become hers, too. He didn’t know if marriage—or love—typically worked in this way, and Rhys didn’t care. Whatever marriage was supposed to be, they’d made a better version of it.
    At the breakfast table, he watched Mina sip her coffee, her beautiful mouth pursing against the rim of the cup. His gaze caressed the straight center part of her hair and the rounded softness of her cheeks.
    Across from her, Anne muttered curses as she stabbed her egg with a fork. Every one of Wilbur the Reacher’s inventions had been reviewed by the surly girl and found to be lacking. “Stupid designs, all of them. Who wants to pedal in place? He ought to stay with his automatons. And I would not steal any of them , either.”
    Mina looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her eyes bright with laughter. “When does the Blacksmith return?”
    “Next week,” he said.
    Her gaze thoughtful, she nodded. “I won’t wait for him. I’ll stop by the Narrow this morning and ask if anyone in the guild knows of anything like this giant wheel. How can no one see such a thing?”
    Anne stopped muttering. “You’ll ask the blacksmiths if they saw a what?”
    “A big brass or copper wheel, three feet wide. It runs on a track and clicks.”
    Flipping the newssheet around, Rhys showed Anne the illustration on the