My home is your home, always.
The sentence Bacardi spoke absolutely melted Sidra on the spot. Her eyes widened, then warmed with love as she looked up almost reverently at the painted king. She had known some form of his acceptance was going to be voiced, but the earnest way in which he spoke briefly left her awestruck. Sidra’s charcoal lips pulled into a happy smile before she moved to tuck herself back in tightly up against him. The warmth of his sweet touch to her cheek still lingered, and concentrating on it further spread that same warmth throughout her body. She felt it most across her chest, in her heart that thudded within it.
Sidra was still uncertain to this day what she had done to be so lucky to come across Bacardi as easily as she did. Her father had often talked of the difficulties in finding a true love, one that you felt you could dedicate your entire existence to, and here Sidra had found it, right next door. She would never take the relationship she had with Bacardi for granted.
As much as Sidra would have loved to stay curled up against Bacardi for the rest of the evening, she was ever aware of his many duties as a king. She wasn’t selfish enough to hog all his time, no matter how much her heart yearned for him to. She opened her eyes and slowly pulled away from him again, but reached out to leave a soft, loving kiss to his deep brown and black cheek. “We should get back to the herd,” she said, “I’ve kept you away from everyone long enough.” She was grateful for every second she had with him, but Sidra would never forgive herself if her keeping him away meant trouble for one of their family members.
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