Page 74 of Between Fear and Favor

As his kiss grew ardent, everything within me began to ache. My heart, my muscles, every point where our bodies met—lower, where I flashed red hot. Instinct told me to wrap my legs around his hips, but I stopped myself, squeezing my thighs together tightly instead. As I dragged my hand up his chest to his neck, a soft moan escaped from him, and I basked in the sound. To have this effect on him meant something to me. I’d been around men my entire life; Dewalt wasn’t the first one I’d found attractive. But he was the first one I wanted to explore and know. He was the first one I’d let touch me, the first one I’d kissed, and the only one to make me yearn.

I trusted him and I wanted more.

With so little to my name, no expectations for a life outside the Myriad, Dewalt had made me think about my future. Often, I wondered if my mother pushed upon me this life of solitude in the gods’ names as an effort to protect me from falling in love.

Had what she felt been so insistent? Had it been love that we’d reaped the consequences of? Thoughts of my mother made me ponder the idea of choice. If given a say in the matter, what would I want for my life?

Abundance—of time and love. Could it be so simple? Could Dewalt provide that for me? I didn’t know.

I grew bold the longer we kissed, eventually licking at the seam of his lips. Instead of granting me entrance, Dewalt pulled back, pressing his forehead against mine once more. A warm huff of breath skated over my lips alongside his sigh, and he gently lowered me. Holding me tight against him, I blushed when I felt something hard between us, and he bit back a groan as my stomach rubbed against it.

“Nor,” he whispered—a prayer or a confession, I couldn’t know. His head was still lowered, our breaths mingling, as his hands circled my waist. I inhaled him, eyes closed, drawing strength from his warmth and his embrace. I didn’t know what this meant, and I steeled myself for the worst.

If he told me this was a mistake, I would accept it. In his suspicions, the reliability of his derision, I’d found refuge. When he’d been distrusting of me, he’d never pretended to be anything but. It made him different from any other man I’d known; with Dewalt there was no manipulation hidden behind smiles and kind words, but instead the brutal beauty of truth. In the safety of his honesty, I could allow myself freedom. I hadn’t been able to foresee the shift to wanting, but it had been as natural as warm dirt sifting through my fingers on a summer’s day.

“Let me hold you?” he asked, and when I breathed the word yes, he pressed a kiss to my lips before pulling away. And then he stood there, looking between me and the bed, hopelessly uncertain of how to navigate what he’d proposed.

I chuckled, reaching up to cup his face as I teased him. “I’ll try not to snore, Walt.”

Head tilted back, he barked out a riotous laugh when I used the shortened form of his name—my only defense against his own pestering. He bent at the knee, wrapping his arms around my waist before carrying me to the bed. I was grateful he couldn’t see my face when he said, “Perhaps you’ll coo instead, pigeon.”

My cheeks heated, and I wondered if there would be an expectation of intimacy if I crawled into the bed with him. I knew I wasn’t ready for it. But I’d already allowed him to touch me once—though the longing and guilt that pulled at me after our encounter had accounted for many sleepless nights.

Was the Myriad my only reason for hesitance? Though I was no longer a novice, I still found myself holding those rules close to my heart. I hadn’t been to a temple in weeks, hadn’t truly prayed to the gods either, and yet this lifestyle I’d been forced into had sunk its claws into my flesh. Perhaps I’d find the strength one day to leave it all behind.

When Dewalt laid down, carefully tugging me along with him, he didn’t push for more, and I scolded myself for even worrying about it. I knew by now, though sometimes crass, Dewalt was perhaps the best man I’d ever known. Almost terrifyingly honest, he would have used his words to discuss his intentions. Once more, I found freedom in his truth. I couldn’t think of anything except the temperature of his warm bare skin against my cheek and the texture of the scar on his chest where it rested beneath my fingertips. He tucked me close to his side, gently playing with my hair, and when I released a contented sigh, I didn’t bother to hide it.

Chapter 37

RAINIER

“Ryo,”Em gasped, pointing toward the dragon who lay far too still in front of us. “Oh, gods, hurry! Heal him.”

I wasn’t sure I could do it. On the other end of the bond, I sensed how little of Em’s divinity was accessible. Our divinity combined would have been enough for smaller wounds, but with her weak and pained as she was, there wasn’t enough of her left to give. There was that strange undercurrent of power, Hanwen’s gift, that I couldn’t reach, and I wasn’t sure she could either. Though my own power could make up some of the difference, Aonara’s gift of healing came from Em.

I swallowed before rising to my feet. Em’s brow wrinkled as she tried to do the same, pain overwhelming her tired frame. Despite my own sore body, I scooped her into my arms, the armor making her far heavier than usual, and brought her the short distance to our dragon. She groaned, collapsing against me. She’d held it at bay for so long, the agony had come crashing down around her with force.

Ryo looked so small compared to Irses and Lux who still flew over the city. I wasn’t sure he was breathing, the rise and fall of his body nearly imperceptible. With the daggers sticking out of his back, I wasn’t sure where to start.

“Tell me what to do,” I said, deferring to Em. I’d had some training in combat healing, but usually it was someone else’s divinity doing the work. Em had been healing others since she was a child. My brilliant, brave, competent wife would know exactly what to do. “Should I take out the blades?”

“One at a time,” she said, as I settled her on the ground near Ryo. She leaned forward, stifling a grunt of pain as she pressed her forehead to his. Though he was the smallest of the dragons, he was still large beside her as she wrapped an arm across his neck. His eyes fluttered open, a pretty blue the shade of a sunny, spring sky, and a faint whine escaped from him. Em’s voice broke as she gave me direction. “Heal as you pull it out.”

Near the daggers, his dark green scales were splattered with black liquid, and shadows rose from his blood like steam. Gripping the hilt, emotion was heavy in my throat as both my wife and the dragon froze at the touch. “Easy,” I murmured, slowly pulling the blade free with one hand and pouring my divinity into him. There was resistance, as if my divinity couldn’t sense a wound to heal. That clearly wasn’t the case, so I persisted.

“Why isn’t it working?” Em panted. “I can’t...it’s not making a difference.” Dark blood trickled from the hole in his back, showing no signs of slowing.

Em adjusted, laying on the ground beside Ryo. He was twitching, though faintly, almost as if he were resigned to the hurt, and my heart ached. Emma reached out, gently caressing his face, and his body calmed. He continued to whine—ever so softly—and tears tracked down Em’s cheeks.

Despite the muddied jumble of emotion coming from Em, guilt overwhelmed our bond. I said nothing. If I told her it wasn’t her fault, she’d only grow more upset. She wouldn’t believe me. Especially considering I’d been fearful of this exact situation, and I’d been proven right. The enemy had her blood, and both she and a dragon had been hurt.

But despite that, I couldn’t regret my wife’s choices.

Em had saved me. She’d saved my soldiers who now clambered out of the pit, finishing off those Lux had left alive along her path of vengeance. If I only would have listened to my twin flame, trusted her and had faith in us to figure something out, so many would still be alive. If anyone should feel guilty, it was me. Despite that, a small pang of worry burrowed into my gut, knowing this might have endangered the Three Kingdoms further. Were we one step closer to that fearful future Cyran had spoken of?

“Should I keep going?” I asked, hesitant since the first wound still hadn’t knitted shut beneath my divine touch.

“I don’t know,” she said, breathless. She worried her bottom lip before dragging herself toward me.

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