Page 111 of Synodic

I lowered myself beneath the bubbling water, ready to be cleansed of the filth from the crypts. But all at once, I was imprisoned within its darkness, lost within the small cage of eternity.

No.

I couldn’t…not again. I needed air, freedom, the openness of the sky. I shot my head out of the water and screamed a gargled plea into the midnight air.

Rowen charged through the hanging curtain of vines, ready to destroy. “Keira!”

He came to a swift halt just inside the bathing suite and lowered his weapon. The look of dread on his face slowly transformed into confusion as he saw me visibly unharmed, panting, and trying to catch my breath.

Of course he was here, always protecting and guarding me, even when I didn’t know it.

“Keira,” he repeated my name breathlessly, the realization that the enemy he rushed in to fight was invisible. How could one battle a tightly clenched fist around the soul?

His attention shifted to the dress on the ground, then snapped back to my wide-eyed expression. He stared for several beats as he took in my drenched appearance and the locks of wet hair dripping around my face and naked shoulders.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I had to make sure you were okay. I’ll go now.” He turned to leave, his eyes about to tear from mine.

“Don’t go,” I said before his stare disappeared.

When his eyes were on me I felt stronger, safer. Alive.

I needed him. The mere presence of him seeped into my lungs and gave me back my breath.

The need to be closer was mutual, unspoken, and we moved toward each other like mirror images. I waded through the water and huddled against the side of the tub, my fingertips curling over the basin’s lip. Rowen stalked toward me with a deliberate gait, meeting me at the tub’s edge.

Even though the bath was raised, with me kneeling and him standing, the top of my head came to his chin. He bowed toward me; we were almost eye to eye, and mouth to mouth, brought together like the gravitational pull of two celestial bodies, inherent and unstoppable.

Rowen’s pulse was rampant, and his body swelled with muscle and need, and I could tell he was barely containing himself. “I never want to leave you again.”

The worry I’d been holding, for fear his feelings had changed above the ground, loosened. “Then don’t,” I said, my words assuring him as his eyes brightened to the richest shade of the forest. “Stay with me.”

He nodded in visible relief, and I reached for a nearby bar of soap, glad he didn’t want to leave me just as badly as I didn’t want him to go.

“Here. Let me.” He took the soap from my grasp and dipped his hands into the water that whirled around me. My body tightened and flushed at the intimacy of his long, tapered fingers joining the water that engulfed my naked body.

He worked the bar between his calloused palms, forming a sudsy lather, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Watching a man with such deadly capabilities do something so simple was captivating.

“Turn around.” His voice was husky and low as he directed me to move, and I did as he said. Then his hands were on me, grazing the curve of my collarbone and bare back as he gathered my waist-length hair into his hands. He soaped and washed my filthy hair with a reverence that lifted an immeasurable weight from my shoulders.

He finger-combed through my matted rat’s nest, gently pulling at my roots and sparking my sensitive hair follicles. Once the knots were mostly untangled, Rowen rubbed my scalp with pressurized strokes that liquified my body into a vat of warm honey. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I couldn’t help the low moan that escaped my lips.

His fingers stilled, then moved to the nape of my neck, guiding my body for a rinse. My neck arched back, exposing the curve of my throat to the cool night breeze. Somehow Rowen picked up on the fact that I didn’t want to go under, to be swallowed up in the darkness of water, because he never fully submerged me as he worked the bubbles from my strands.

He slowly brought me back up to face him and our eyes locked as he held the back of my neck. Droplets fell from my hair to my cheeks, seeming to hover and fall in slow motion before crashing against the floating swells of my breasts.

“You must be so tired,” he said, his eyes dipping to my mouth.

Yes. Every part of me. Except for the part that was wide awake and aching—for him. “No,” I breathed as my eyes zeroed in on his mouth framed perfectly by his dark stubble.

Rowen’s hand shifted to cup the side of my face, his fingers lost in my wet tresses. His thumb rested on the edge of my cheekbone, and I tilted my head back, drinking him in and meeting his heady gaze.

With the speed of a lit match, a wildfire blazed in my blood, needing to be stoked. Fed.

His eyes told the same, mirroring my long-tampered fire that was ready to burn and blaze and consume. The shared look stripped us bare until we were nothing more than the twin flames flickering in our eyes.

Rowen’s thumb stroked my cheek, and his jaw flexed with a hard swallow before his mouth slightly parted. Like aligning magnets, he sealed the distance between us, colliding our breath and lips into one.

Our mouths moved and tangled against one another in a soul-deep kiss that was purposeful, slow, and vast. His tongue pressed against mine in languid waves that coaxed the winter of my bones into a blossoming spring.

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