Page 61 of A Legacy of Storms and Starlight

She twisted round, one leg on either side of him as those circles quickened, needing more friction against the feeling growing within her.

“Greedy,” he murmured as his kisses ran along her jaw. He sat back, pulling her dress down from the shoulder, his lips brushing between her breasts.

She arched her back, bracing herself against the table as his fingers moved faster and faster, her thighs pressing together as the tension coiled deeper, lower.

His thumb teased the edge of her underwear as he brought his mouth closed around her nipple, and Zylah fought back a moan. “Raif,” she whispered in the dark.

Faster and faster his fingers moved against her, his mouth claiming hers to capture another moan just as release shattered through her, her hands losing their grip on the table. Raif wrapped an arm around her, pulling her with him as he leaned back into the cushions, his fingers slowing and his other hand tangled in her hair as her trembling eased. His kisses were still quick, hungry, and like this Zylah could feel every inch of him pressed against her.

“Like a goddess,” he murmured, a hand sliding to her rear as he rocked her against him.

Zylah pushed up, the echo of her release still like a hazy mist all over her as she pressed her hands to his chest. “Was this part of your plan? Make up an excuse to get me in your lap so we’d end up here?”

Orblights reflected in his eyes as he sat up again, rocking her against him deliciously slowly. “I like to deliver on my promises,” he said softly against her lips.

Quicker than Zylah could blink, Raif pulled her dress up over her shoulders and rested her hood over her hair. “We have company.” He helped her back into the sleeves and gently eased her off of him just as the curtains were shoved aside, and a woman spoke.

“You need to leave. Now.” It was Rose, and Zylah didn’t need to meet her gaze to know she was furious.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“It’s Holt and Marcus,” Rose explained in a whisper, drawing the curtain closed behind her.

Zylah discreetly smoothed down her dress as she looked from Rose to Raif.We try not to speak about our father… for fear that it summons him, Raif had said when she’d asked about his parents a few weeks back. And whatever Rose had seen had worried her, enough to make her come all the way here to find Raif.

“Did he call it in?” her brother asked, pulling on his jacket and throwing a bundle of notes on the table.

Rose shook her head, her brow scrunching together. “No, I… I just saw them together. That was enough.” She held a hand to her forehead, and Zylah wondered if there was something else the Fae wasn’t telling them. It was no surprise Rose still didn’t trust her. Rose had shown little interest in anyone other than Saphi and her brother in the short time Zylah had known her.

“Call what in? What does your father want with Holt?” Dread coiled in Zylah’s stomach, and she wished she hadn’t had so much of the wine.

“A number of things spring to mind,” Raif murmured. “Liss, can you manage two of us?” he asked, flicking his chin in Rose’s direction.

She knew he meant the evanescing, but there were people all around them beyond the privacy of their booth. Zylah nodded, reaching a hand out to each of them. “Where to?”

“The safe house.” Rose hesitated for a moment longer than Zylah would have liked, the dim orblights bouncing off the crystals and turning the Fae’s eyes into glittering pools. Those eyes met Zylah’s for a second before Rose placed a hand in hers.

She knew she was taking a chance, risking the wards with both of them. But Rose’s concern for Holt urged her to cast aside any worries she might have had. Zylah took them to the reception area, hoping Kopi wouldn’t wait outside the restaurant for her as the world came back into focus.

“I see your whore serves more than one purpose.” Marcus rested an arm against the counter, wiping his hand idly at an invisible speck of dust. “You always were resourceful when it came to women.” His hair was the same shade of black as his children’s, cropped short to his head, his eyes the same shade of glittering blue. A sheathed sword hung from his hip; the hilt black to match the rest of his attire.

Rose dropped Zylah’s hand, but Raif held onto her, unfazed by his father’s presence or his words. “Where is Holt?”

Marcus stared down at his son, his gaze sliding to Raif’s hand wrapped around Zylah’s and back up again. “Running an errand for me. I needed the two of you together and this was the only way to snag Rose’s attention.” His gaze roved over Zylah’s dress—or lack of it—and she resisted the urge to step behind Raif. Instead, she stood tall and met Marcus’s gaze when it finally reached hers, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.

Rose waved a hand as she shifted her weight from her blade to her leg, and it was the first time Zylah had ever seen the Fae show any sign of discomfort. “Spit it out then, Marcus.”

The unease in the air was palpable, and Zylah wondered when the three of them had last been in a room together.

Marcus took a step closer to Zylah. “Arnir tells me the girl from Dalstead can evanesce. Such a rare gift.” He turned to Rose. “Your mother had the ability, and we never understood why it didn’t pass to you, when—”

“Is this going somewhere?” Raif cut in. Had he felt her tense beside him? Had he heard her heart beat faster with each of Marcus’s words?

Marcus looked between his children, his expression earnest. “I can protect you, if you come with me.”

Rose tilted her chin up to him. “To Arnir’s palace? To live as slaves?”

“Do I look like a slave?”

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