Page 84 of Blood Beneath the Snow

“Would you go back?” I whispered. “If you were me?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I think you should. You’re a good person.”

“I have no interest in being a good person,” I scoffed. “I only have interest in liberating my people.”

“Some of your people,” he corrected. I glared at him. He chuckled.

“You’re joking.” I smiled. “You hardly ever joke with me.”

“I want to. But this”—he gestured at his helmet—“dictates I shouldn’t…get attached. To anyone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re attached to me?”

He looked at the floor. “Yes.”

My eyes widened.

“I know you were awake,” the Hellbringer said. “You don’t need to deny it. You heard what I said to Volkan. What he accused me of.”

I swallowed. My pulse pounded incredibly fast, want curling in my stomach. The question of what he’d wanted to do after he pinned me to the wall was back in full force.

He sighed, and for a moment honesty overwhelmed his barriers, too. “I know I am not the kind of person you would ever feel for. It would be stupid of you to pretend. But, Revna, you fascinate me. I dream of being good enough for you.”

I stared at him, silent.

He cleared his throat, as if suddenly realizing what he’d admitted. “I’ve treated you poorly. You didn’t deserve that. Fear has been holding me back.”

“Holding you back?” My voice was breathless, a faint thing against the warmth of the firelight. “From what?”

The next moments seemed to pass in slow motion.

He stood, stepping over to close the tent flaps, making sure theywere secure. Once he’d returned to his chair, the Hellbringer ran a hand over the front of the wolf skull mask, then slid the other hand down the side and pressed a latch. It clicked, loud against the backdrop of silence, and then he pulled it off to reveal his bare face beneath.

The first thing I noticed was his hair, a chestnut-dark mop he had to brush off his forehead. This revealed his eyes, dark gray and penetrating, even as they flitted away from my own, as if nervous to make contact. To acknowledge the vulnerability laid out in front of us.

Heartbeat in my throat, I traced every one of his features with my eyes like a starving woman. Gods, I wanted to touch him. His cheekbones, high and sharp, contrasted with the softness of his plush lips. Dark brows furrowed against his forehead. I resisted the urge to smooth the lines there.

“I trust you, Revna.” He still wasn’t looking at me. His lower lip trembled slightly, and I knew his knuckles were white beneath his gloves from how tightly he clutched the mask. The distortion in his voice was gone; he sounded like a man now, not a monster. “And what I feel for you…it’s brighter than the sun in the sky. I don’t believe in gods, but I would if it meant I could deserve you.”

Here his eyes finally flicked up to mine. “Maybe we can never be together. Maybe you’ll never want me back, not the way I want you. Because, fuck, I can’t explain how much I think about you. Nothing has ever torn me apart the way you do. And—”

I leapt from the bed to stand between his knees, pressing my hands to his shoulders. My injured arm let out a ghostlike throb, but I ignored it, sliding my fingers up his neck and over his sharp jawline. There was a hint of stubble there, scratching my palm. His eyes were full of something intangible—longing, or maybe anticipation.

Bending down, I pressed my lips to his.

Gods, they were just as soft as I hoped they’d be. His hands, which had been frozen to the helmet, seemed to thaw, moving to push the mask to the ground, wrap around my waist, and pull me closer, tug me down until I had no choice but to clamber onto his lap.

Soft, exploratory brushes of our lips turned hungry with an unfamiliar swiftness. I scraped my nails against his scalp gently, gently, and the answering groan set me alight.

The Hellbringer kissed like he sparred—the moment I seemed to have the upper hand, he retaliated, teeth nipping at my lower lip and making me gasp.

“Fuck.” He moved his mouth to my jaw, my throat, and I arched against him. “I refuse to have you for the first time in a tent where anyone in camp can hear us. But please know I desperately want to.”

I sighed, unsure whether it was from the pleasure of succumbing to my desire or frustration from knowing this was as far as we would be going tonight. Petty, I ground against him, and the satisfaction of feeling him hard beneath me, straining against his pants, was perfection.

“Unfair,” he gasped, and in response I chuckled.

“No part of this has been fair,” I murmured, pulling back to look into his eyes. There was the barest hint of a smile beneath the contentment on his face, and it made me want to kiss him again.

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