Page 111 of Lore of the Tides

“Let’s make a deal. When this is all over, we will come back here and stay for a whole week. When we leave, we will buy a crate or three to take back to your father’s tavern.”

His eyes swirled with warmth at the thought. “A week here with you would be lovely.”

They clinked glasses, the sound of the crystal pealing throughout the room, and both took another sip.

Finndryl sighed and twirled one of Lore’s curls between thumb and finger. “Tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow is unknown. And the thought of it... Let’s not talk about tomorrow just yet.”

Lore placed her glass on the bedside table and plucked Finn’s as well, before turning toward him, suddenly shy. Her robe slipped down from her movement and her shoulder was kissed by the warm air in the room. She looked back at Finn and saw his eyes greedily drinking in the view of her exposed skin.

“I didn’t come here to discuss tomorrow, anyway,” he said. His voice was low, hungry.

Lore bit her lip. “What did you come here to discuss?”

“I didn’t come here to discuss anything. I had other things in mind, if you’re so inclined.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

His reply was simple. He closed the space between them.

There was nothing gentle about this kiss. He was all hunger and need. She opened herself to him, parting for his tongue to enter, searching, tasting, reverently, like she was the nectar of the gods.

And him? He tasted like heaven.

Heat cascaded from the melding of their lips down to her core, and Finndryl placed his hands on her back, pressing her to him.

“You always have good ideas,” Lore said against his lips. She couldn’t help but smile. She always wanted to smile when he kissed her; the simple fact that he wanted to kiss her made her giddy.

He grunted his reply, perhaps too preoccupied with the feel of her in his arms to think of something witty to say. Lore pushed her hands beneath his shirt, searching for the smooth swath of skin there. He shivered under her touch.

She marveled at the heat releasing off him. He was burning, burning, burning for her, and she felt it too. His chest began to vibrate, a resonance building within him. She could feel her own magic responding to his. It swelled within her, this new sun magic. She broke the kiss for a moment, and yes, her hands had begun to glow beneath the fabric of his shirt. “That’s new,” Finndryl said, his voice breathy. His lips were swollen from their kiss, his face flushed, and his midnight eyes glistened with desire.

He was magnificent.

Lore reached up and felt her own swollen lips. Knew her still-damp hair must be wild from where he’d gripped it. But Finndryl was looking at her like she was a goddess. She’d never felt more beautiful than she did right now. His gaze dipped from hers down to her lips, where her fingers gently prodded them. A smirk fluttered across his lips for just a moment before he removed his shirt. He tossed it onto the floor before kissing her again, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth and biting it.

Lore moaned; his canines were sharp, and the bite of pain was entrancing. She ran her hands up the long sides of his torso, moving them to his chest. His skin was pure heat, molten, and it melted all thoughts from her mind save for one.

Need.

She needed him.

She needed to feel him, to have him, to be his and have him be hers, completely.

Lore rose up on her knees and climbed into his lap. She didn’t care that the short robe she wore would hide nothing. He’d seen her naked in the library—well, almost naked—and here he was—come back for more.

Finndryl gripped her and guided her hips down on his lap, positioning her just right. The tempo of their kiss increased as Lore ground herself against him. He was so fucking hard; his own need was obvious, pressed up against her, straining against his pants.

Finndryl’s breath stuttered when she pressed into him, and he groaned. Lore, emboldened by this, clasped the edges of her robe and pulled the fabric to the sides, letting the cloth slip to the floor to join his shirt. Revealing herself to him completely.

Her deep, raised scar beneath her breast, where a fae male far away had dug his knife into her. The slashing scar on her arm, which still to this day prickled when she touched it, the poison the guard had used leaving its mark in not just a scar but in feel as well. Finndryl had risked his life sucking the poison from that wound. He’d saved her that day, when Lore had been sure he hadn’t cared about her at all. The newly healed web of slashes from the sailors aboard the ship. Her mind shuddered at the memories, all the ways that she had been cut and scarred. She didn’t want to think about how he could now see all these blemishes that marred her skin, more than just the childhood scars everyone in Duskmere had. A natural effect that came with being raised poor, in a community deprived of medicine and enough to eat.

Finndryl’s eyes widened, and his breath caught in his chest. He saw the pattern of wounds on her skin, and yet his eyes did not shy away. They ignited with something else, something deeper, that shone through him, surpassing even the lust. “You are more beautiful than I had imagined, Lore. And yes, I’ve been imagining what you look like since you walked into the Exile with that unabashed look of wonder you wear anytime you enter somewhere new. Like you’re the main character in a storybook, and you are watching your adventure unfold.”

“I thought you hated me... back then.”

Finndryl growled. “I despise almost everyone, but never you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest, and he tasted her, drank her in like she was the richest wine. The ripest fruit. “Lore.” He whispered her name against her lips, as though she were his salvation. Goosebumps broke out across her skin, and she sighed into him.

---