Page 130 of The Unweaver

Her back to his chest and his arm around her middle, their bodies melded into slumberous relaxation with only her silk chemise and his shorts between their skin. She arched into the hardness curling around her, eliciting a low groan from his throat, a tightening of his arm.

Slowly, she became aware of another hardness, pressing into her bottom. Her hips shifted. The firm ridge stiffened. He moaned, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

Realization dawned with the morning.

Malachy jerked back as if burned, muttering apologies. She turned to face him. He sat against the headboard, shirtless, with his head in his hands and an impressive erection testing the tensile strength of his shorts. Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, the Realmwalker looked adorably flustered.

Sharing his bed, Cora was no stranger to this part of his anatomy. This beautiful part of his anatomy. But where there had been the plausible deniability of nighttime before, now there was only the revealing light of day.

Her lips quirked. “Good morning to you, too.”

With an anguished sound, he swung off the bed and shoved his trousers on. “I am a man,” he said with a valiant effort of fastening his trousers over his straining length. “I’m not made of wood.”

“Beg to differ.” She couldn’t resist smiling.

Their gazes met, and his lips rose in a matching smile. Laughing, he shook his head and raked back his hair, tugging on a discarded shirt as he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked his retreating back.

“To throw myself into the Thames. I’ll make you breakfast first.”

Every day, he’d cooked meals she only picked at. Today, she felt the stirrings of appetite.One day at a time. Wrapping herselfin a robe, she followed the scent of frying butter and padded to the kitchen.

His gaze traced over her in the doorway. “Cora,” he said carefully.

She hadn’t gone farther than his bedroom or the bathroom in over a week. The kitchen was the same, but she was not. She would never be the same. Her heart was a morgue.

One day at a time.

He offered her a cup of tea with five sugar cubes like a religious rite. She hadn’t had more than water and the potions he forced her to drink since… before. After a timid sip, she was surprised that tea still tasted the same, and five sugars were still the exact right amount.

A grin split his face as she downed the cup. Pouring her another, he turned to the stove and flipped an omelet with an expert flick.

She leaned against the counter, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Malachy Bane is making me breakfast.”

He shot her a sly smile. “I suppose you’ve earned your keep.”

The easiness of his smiles and laughter warmed her from within. “You’re different now,” she mused. “That’s a compliment.”

He chuckled. “I feel different. The fact I feel anything at all is astounding. Food tastes better. Music sounds sweeter. Even my cock feels harder.”

She choked on tea. “Ah,” she managed.

He flipped the omelet onto a plate and slid it towards her. “Without Koschei’s Egg, I have to scale back my operations, of course. But with Verek and Edwina gone, I’m capitalizing on the lack of competition by expanding into manufacturing and intelligence. Buying up ships and trains, where I relied on Choromancy before. In six months, I’ll have built enough capacity to more than make up for the magic losses.”

A smile broke across her face at the boyish enthusiasm of his scheming. A laugh escaped her lips. It felt surprisingly good. A relief after all this suffering, when she didn’t think there’d be anything to laugh about again. Tossing her head back, she laughed harder.

“Ah, there it is,” he said with a marveling smile. “My favorite sound. The moment your laugh becomes a cackle.”

“I do not cackle.”

“You do.” He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her. Leaning closer, he dropped his voice. “What are you cackling about?”

“You and your schemes.”

She drank in his laugh like a glass of champagne. Gently, he cradled her face in hands. Instead of fear or panic, something warm bloomed in her chest.Safe. She felt safe. Even without a Binding Agreement, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Malachy had seen every darkness in her. Her worst moments, her most shameful secrets, her bitterest regrets. He saw the blood on her hands and the unrepentant fire in her eyes. He saw her. And in him, she saw a kindred darkness.

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