Page 68 of A Flame of the Phoenix

He found her with a wounded expression that cleaved him, but he didn’t show it.

He said, “You should get rest before we set out tomorrow.”

“Can I stay?”

Gods, he wanted that more than anything, but there was one thing he could control, and that was Nerida becoming more entangled with him than she already was.

“No.”

Her brow furrowed—not hurt but adorably defiant at his rejection.

“It’s freezing.”

“You can have my lantern.”

Nerida crossed her arms. “Am I that terrible to sleep beside?”

“You do snore.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I do not!”

“It’s light most of the time.”

It was incredible how she could pull amusement from him even in his most dire moods. He didn’t mention how the sounds she made in her sleep invoked such peace it sent him into his own deep rest like he’d never experienced before. That the warmth of her body relaxed his in a way he’d never found before.

Nerida huffed, crawling over his bed mat, which could hardly fit him alone. He smiled despite his back being to her—or at least he thought he did, but his sorrow weighed down anything joyous.

“You don’t take rejection very well,” he mused.

“When it’s impractical, no, I don’t. You can’t tell me you haven’t found the nights near intolerable in this winter.”

“We have some coin for a room. I can take you?—”

“Lie down, Sully.”

He despised that name. And he wished she would never stop when he would run to the call of it in a heartbeat. For one so gentle and warm, she was damn stubborn and demanding. Tarly adored that contrast about her.

Conceding for this last night, he lay and let her shuffle in close, until their shared heat and the blanket covered them both.

“Maybe the Phoenix Blood needs a day to work,” she said somberly.

Tarly wouldn’t let his small flicker of hope reignite.

“Maybe,” he whispered.

He couldn’t stop thinking of his draining time. How everyone had set out with a role toward winning this war and saving their continent, whereas he planned to go in search of his own cure. To save one miserable life that didn’t mean anything in the grander scheme of the world. His sister would be Queen of Olmstone, his father was likely dead by now, and Nerida…she was always a temporary blessing he hadn’t done anything to deserve. She’d lived a long, fulfilled life before him, and she would after him.

Tarly thought she’d drifted to sleep with how long they lay there in silence. Until she pushed herself up gently, hovering partially over him. Her soft hand cupped his cheek, and she stared at him with such large, beautiful eyes he saw the world he wanted within them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, barely a breath of a whisper, even though she was smiling.

Nerida didn’t answer with words. Her mouth leaned to his for a careful kiss. When Tarly responded, he was surprised when her leg hooked over his middle and she straddled him. His hands molded around her hips so gloriously it was torture, with his mind yelling at him to stop this before it went too far.

He couldn’t.

Tarly had been so deprived of having someonewanthim that now this stunning, magnificent creature was offering herself, he’d become addicted. The taste of her overcame all his senses. The feel of her against him was so undeniably perfect that his entire being couldn’t understand how it was possible.

He groaned into her mouth, flipping them in a single fluid motion until she lay beneath him.

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