Page 46 of A Monsoon Rising

—being seized by an arm in a bruising grip and hauled up onto damp land.

Amidst rain-flecked shafts of wan daylight poking through cracks in the limestone ceiling high overhead, Talasyn barely had a moment to register Alaric’s irate chiseled features before she doubled over, retching out the briny ocean in her lungs.The sound of her every cough and heave was magnified within the grotto she’d ended up in. It was an age before she could breathe normally again, and by that point she was all but crumpled on the ground, with Alaric kneeling beside her, still holding on to her arm. Although he was quick to let go as soon as her gaze flickered to his bare hand on her skin.

He wasalsoquick to start chastising her.

“This,” he said, the flash of silver in his irises a testament to the anger lurking behind his cool, clipped tones, “is the most asinine thing that you have ever done.”

“M-me?” Talasyn sputtered, sitting up. “You’re the one who flew off to the seaside even though Jie told you there was a weather warning! The storms here arenotlike the ones we get on the Continent—the natural ones, anyway—and you could have died—”

“Says the girl I had to fish out of the lake. Unless surviving drowning is one of your many talents?”

Her mouth twisted. Alaric had established a cozy campsite on a rock shelf, but … She glanced at the waterline, which was steadily rising as more of the Eversea flowed in. “We mightbothdrown, come to think of it.”

“Hence, the most asinine thing you’ve ever done,” he repeated with an annoyed impatience that set her teeth on edge.

No—actually, her teeth were chattering. The adrenaline had worn off and a bone-gnawing chill took its place.

Talasyn crossed her arms over her chest in a futile bid for warmth. Every inch of her trembled in her wet clothes, in her flooded shoes. Alaric shuffled behind her and she tried to ask him what he was doing, but she was shaking too hard to speak. The only sound she could make was a strangled little squeak as he threw his arms around her, tugging her against him. Why was he alwaysdoingthat, just grabbing her and settling her however he pleased, and why was she alwayslettinghim?

Her back was flush to his broad chest and his thighs bracketed hers, and she gradually became aware that her trusty leather pack wasn’t separating their bodies. She’d lost it in the river, along with rations and a firestarter and other essential supplies. In that moment, though, it seemed so fleeting a concern. She greedily clung to him, savoring the heat that he emitted despite the unwelcome rush of memories brought on by their close proximity.

Memories of how they’d melted against each other in a position almost exactly like this, in their bed the previous morning.

Memories of how she’d touched herself while imagining the feel of him, all alone in that tower room after watching him spar. How quickly she’d crested then, so unlike those fumbling climbs capped off by small, ultimately unsatisfying releases that she’d been accustomed to those rare times she took matters into her own hands in the years before they met.

As she continued to shiver, his large palms roamed briskly over her wrists, her arms, her abdomen, her sternum, her hips. Rubbing warmth everywhere he could reach. His warmth wasn’t anything like the burning that the Lightweave sent through her veins whenever she aethermanced; rather, it was a cozy kind of heat, like applewood smoke from a cheerful hearth in the depths of a Sardovian winter. Talasyn fought against the temptation to close her eyes because that would have made it too real. Because that would have made her savor it. Because the comfort that Alaric could give her was just as terrifying as the pleasure. Just as forbidden.

“You’ll catch a fever.” He sounded so,sogrumpy that her traitorous heart gave a twinge. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”

They both went still. His unfortunate choice of words hung in the air like the storm clouds in the world aboveground, and Talasyn was suffused with an entirely different kind of heat—she could have burnt an egg on her face with it and that would have been no great shock.

Alaric gently released her and stood up, then walked over to where the rock shelf met the grotto wall. He rooted around in his pack until he found a clean black tunic, which he tossed in her general direction. Talasyn caught the garment and saw that he was very markedly not moving even an inch, but facing away from her as though it was the most important thing he would ever do in this life.

Someone made of sterner stuff would have jumped back into the lake rather than disrobe with Alaric Ossinast only a few feet away. However, Talasyn was far too miserable in her soppingwet attire and she couldn’t change out of it fast enough.

The hem of his tunic ended a scant inch above her knees. She was swimming in it, but the fabric was luxuriously soft and above alldry. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows—because the wide, silver-embroidered cuffs dangled well past her hands otherwise—and she pulled off her boots, shaking the water out of them. Then she worked on her hair, wringing the bedraggled braid between her fingers.

“You can turn around now,” she said.

Alaric was slow to do so, and even then he didn’t quite look directly at her. The lighting was abysmal, but Talasyn could almost swear that his sharp cheeks and the tips of his ears had darkened a shade, as though flushed.

Yet he was his usual infuriating self when he asked, “So, what exactly is the plan, oh great rescuer?”

“We could start with not being assholes, for one,” she hissed, “but I suspect that such restraint is far beyond your capabilities.”

He shrugged. “I do not believe it attainable for you, either.”

She flicked her braid at him, droplets of water streaking through the air like the most ineffectual throwing knives inthe history of Lir. He smirked as he stepped aside to avoid them.

“Well, what wasyourplan before I arrived?” she groused.

“Wait it out.” He gestured to the lake. “This was all dry land and pathways to other caverns earlier this morning. I was communing with the Shadow Sever when the water rushed in. It should recede when the tide ebbs in a few hours.”

Talasyn shook her head. “This is a storm surge, not high tide. It can last days. And there’s no guarantee that the water won’t continue to rise.” When he didn’t say anything, she reiterated, annoyed, “Jietriedto tell you that it was dangerous, but you didn’t listen.”

“Neither did you, and now you’re here with me.”

While Talasyn was quietly seething at that retort, Alaric sat down, casting a skeptical gaze around their surroundings. “No small wonder the ancient Shadowforged left Nenavar, what with their lone nexus point flooding every time the weather acts up.”

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