Page 15 of An Archer's Redemption

“Now.” Larinda hooked her arm in Declan’s and led us out of the inn. “You two need t’ git going. I can feel t’ Keeper’s disquiet all t’ way over here.”

The pack of children escorted us out of town.

Escort may have been too kind a word.

They swarmed about us, a swirling, squealing, squalling mass of tiny humanity that never seemed to still. Had I not been so caught up in my own thoughts, I would have loved every moment.

Nowhere in the world had I witnessed such unbridled joy as on the isle of Rea Utu.

By the time we reached the cavern and set eyes on the silver gate, my legs ached and my temples throbbed. I tossed my pack down and slumped onto a cot shoved against one wall.

Declan eyed me but said nothing, setting his pack beside mine and stepping to the table to fill two glasses with wine. “Here, this should knock out your soreness.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking the glass and downing it in one long swallow.

His brows rose as he sipped. “Thirsty?”

I pressed my palms to my eyes. “Dec, I . . . I do not know what . . . I mean . . . dammit.”

I stood, covered the distance to the table in three strides, refilled my glass, and downed it again in one draft.

Declan stared and blinked, his glass frozen halfway to his mouth.

“I do not know what to think or feel. You are the Son of Magic or the Bond-Mate or the Heir of Magic—or whatever new title they have concocted that is grander than before.” I set my glassdown a little too hard. Theclankechoed through the cave. “What am I now? Your sidekick? Your useless, Mute companion?”

“Ayden—” He reached out for me, but I stepped back.

“You do not need me, Dec. I will only hold you back. I’m . . . nothing next to you.”

“Ayden, please don’t—”

“See, you can’t even deny it. You know it to be true. The moment we get home, you will throw yourself into the world’s problems, and I will be tossed—” His lips slammed into mine, silencing whatever idiocy I was about to say next. Firm hands held my head, refusing to let me flee or pull back, forcing me to receive the full weight of his passion.

I only resisted a moment.

Maybe less.

His kiss was ravenous. It felt as though he channeled every moment of desire and longing he had ever felt in his short life into that one act.

My knees buckled.

Then his hands left my head, and he began unclasping my cloak.

“You are my life, Ayden Byrne, now and always. None of this matters without you. None of it.”

His breath was hot and wet, and I couldn’t drink it in fast enough.

My mind screamed in protest.

Why did I not pull back? Why did my voice falter?

Why could I not resist this man?

Why was I still thinking?

His lips and tongue devoured me, and I felt myself surrender.

In this man’s arms, pressed against his chest, this was where I longed to be. It was where I belonged.

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