Page 31 of Tamhas

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Tamhas

How anyone managed to get any sleep that night was far beyond me.

Perhaps they weren’t asleep. Perhaps they were awake, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as I’d been.

I hadn’t been trying to fall asleep. I knew better than to waste my time in such futile pursuits. There was no chance of my sleeping while Keira sat in a cell, so close to where I rested. An ocean had separated us for so long, and all I had to do was walk down the tunnel to see her.

The whole thing was too surreal to make sense of. I could barely get a grasp on the big picture. She’d found me because she’d wanted to find me. Because she must have felt as I had, that there was something special between us. She hadn’t been able to put words to that instinct any better than I had prior to meeting her.

All I’d known up to that point, up to the moment when I’d first laid eyes on her in person, was that she was special enough to take massive risks for. Over and over, time and again, each conversation more dangerous than the last. Always the threat of revealing too much, always the question of whether she would be able to find me if she got it in her head to do so.

She’d gotten it into her head, all right. Clever girl.

Meeting her was an entirely different story. What had once been a feeling, the sense that she was worth risking everything for, had become a certainty.

I needed her. She was meant for me, and I for her. There was no question in my mind.

The very thought of her suffering in that cell made the struggle to keep my dragon in the back of my consciousness more difficult than it had ever been. Nearly impossible. It was exhausting. But no matter what a relief it would’ve been to let go and allow my dragon half the freedom it craved, the potentially catastrophic outcome was enough to hold me back.

I would only make it harder on her if I weakened. She needed every bit of strength and resolve I possessed.

The corridor was empty, quiet. Just as I’d expected.

I darted down to the control room, it was empty.

A relief, since I wasn’t certain how I’d explain what I was about to do if it wasn’t. Owen, especially, would’ve been keeping an eye on me in search of suspicious behavior.

I filched the key for the cells, kept on a hook alongside the door as it had always been. We’d hardly ever needed to use it—there was even a faint outline left on the wall when I removed it, it had hung unused for so long.

The doors to the private chambers were closed, one after the other. Even so, I made a point of taking my time, doing what I could to appear casual. Yes, you’re out for a midnight stroll, I chided myself. It was all too ridiculous, but I hardly had experience with this type of situation.

I found her sleeping, curled up on her side with her fists tucked under her chin. She didn’t stir when I approached. Probably too exhausted from what she’d been through.

It gave me the chance to watch her unobserved. To listen to the sound of her light, steady breathing. To take in the scent of her without the rest of the clan swarming around me—warm, sweet, pleasant, like a perfume I’d want to enjoy for the rest of my days.

The blanket somebody had seen fit to give her was only over her torso, leaving her arms free. The ink on her shoulder, trailing down her arm, was impressive. A flowering vine which ended at her elbow. Feminine, yet tough. Like her.

The muscle under that ink was impossible to ignore. She was strong. Perhaps stronger than she should’ve been by rights. A professional fighter. I would’ve wagered anything that she was undefeated. Did she not wonder why she was so successful?

I remained in place when she stirred. I’d taken the trouble of stealing the key in order to talk to her, after all, not merely to observe her as she slept.

There was no surprise on her face when she recognized me.

“I wondered when you would come,” she whispered in a groggy, sleep-filled voice. I waited as she sat up, swinging her legs over the cot and rubbing her eyes. When she bent at the waist as though to stretch her stiff muscles, I caught sight of a pair of wings tattooed on her upper back—delicate, beautiful work.

I looked up and down the tunnel before inserting and turning the key.

She gasped. “You have a key?”

“It isn’t my personal key,” I whispered, holding a finger to my lips to signal for quiet.

She blushed. “Sorry.”

“I don’t want them to hear us.”

No, what I wanted was to take her in my arms and stretch out on top of her in that cot. I wanted to feel her warmth, to sink into it, to take her and make her mine for always. To tantalize my senses and make her scream for me, scream until there was no question of another man ever satisfying her as I did...

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