Page 57 of Lore of the Tides

Lore peeked at Finndryl beneath her lashes.

What had the queen said about him? That he was striking?

Striking, indeed.

His gorgeous face was stoic, but desire sparkled in his onyx eyes unabashedly, pointedly right there for her to see, and Lore had to look away from him.

Finndryl’s hand was still on Lore’s thigh, and it burned through her dress. She had never been so hyperaware of any one hand or its placement in her entire life. Just above her knee, and yet, she could feel the presence of his touch all the way up past her stomach, which was doing little flips and trills, to her rapidly beating heart.

His hand felt sorightthere; it belonged on her, always.

She wished she could wish everyone away. She wanted to shift her dress so his touch would be on her bare thigh. She wanted his hand more places than her thigh;gods, she needed to pay attention and stop thinking about his fingers... but... ah, he slid his thumb across; the barest of movements, one he seemed to do without even thinking, and even though he wasn’t even touching her skin, it was sending the wildest sensations through her core and up to her breasts. Stars, her nipples had hardened against the fabric of her dress, and the slight move of the fabric in the water against her breasts combined with his thumb, which was now, idly, doing a little swirly thing...

And now she was thinking about a better, more private place she would rather he stroke with his thumb. All you had to do was take one look at him and know that the grouchy barkeep from Tal Boro knew his way around a lady’s body. He could probably play her like a fiddle, have her singing his name—

But she shouldn’t be thinking like this.

If recent events had taught her anything, it was that her judgment couldn’t be trusted. She shouldn’t be wishing Finndryl do any of these things to her.

Lore needed to find out what it was the queen wanted from them, obtain her grimoire, and get themhome.

To theirseparatehomes.

She could not let herself be distracted by these feelings. Besides, if she let him do any of the things she’d imagined him doing to her, it would only make it that much harder when she ultimately got what she wanted. Which was to free her people from Duskmere and move them as far from all fae as possible.

Having these feelings for Finndryl only distracted her from her purpose. She was obviously unequipped to make any decisions based on affection or desire. No matter how right or wonderful his touch felt, she could not allow him any closer to her.

Look what she’d already done to him.

Pulled him from his life, had him imprisoned on a ship, for gods’ sakes. Because ofher. Because she trusted someone who had also given her feelings of safety and love and desire.

And look where it landed all of them.

Trapped in the ocean, sat before a bickering queen, who hadn’t even gotten around to giving them any hope that they would be escaping this place with their lives. Finndryl was, once again, put in a dreadful position because ofher.

Just an hour ago, he had been heartbeats from death, and there had beennothingLore could have done to save him. Despite trying, she had failed him. He had beendyingin her arms.

And it was all her fault.

If she had never trusted the dimpled guard. If she had never let Gryph, a male entirely too good for this earth, put his family and livelihood in harm’s way by harboring her, a human. A fugitive. If she hadn’t let Finndryl or Isla risk their lives forhercause, Finndryl would be safe right now, in the Dragon’s Exile. Making drinks or studying alchemy, trying to break his grandfather’s blood curse.

Regardless of what he would have been doing, he would be living his life onhisterms.

And instead, she had... kissed him? She had. She had kissed him. Because she thought she was dying, and she couldn’t handle leaving this world without knowing what it was like to kiss Finndryl at least once. And that one single kiss had set her entire body aflame. It had scorched away the hurt and the panic and terror of drowning, and it had burned so fucking sweet.

And even now, she was losing it over the simple fact that his hand wasrestingon her thigh.

She wanted nothing more than to shove this table away, banish everyone else from this room, so she could straddle Finndryl right where he sat. So she could taste his lips again. She could rip his clothes off and then hers until there was nothing between them, nothing at all to separate him from her.

And, she had to admit to herself, she didn’t want them to get any closer, not just because she was so obviously not just terrible for him, an actualliteraldanger to his life, but because the more he touched her, the closer they got, the more she wanted to give herself to him. Not just physically, but she wanted to hand him her heart and beg him to keep it safe. She wanted to give him everything. In every way she could. Every glance from him, every time he looked out for her, put himself between her and danger, did something as small as making sure she had enough to drink, she wanted to tell him that she was his. That she belonged to him. Had belonged to him since he’d found her in the Wilds and told her that she was magic.

But right now, nothing made sense. She didn’t know why they were here.

Not to mention, what could be done about the traitor sitting three and a half feet from her, burning a hole into the side of her head.

The veryreasonthat her heart was damaged, shattered.

And she could not give Finndryl something that didn’t even fully belong to her yet.

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