Page 40 of Of Blooming Embers
As a molten shiver swept from my throbbing nape to my tailbone, I moaned. Or he did. I wasn’t sure as it vibrated through our mouths and where our chests connected. Our frantic heartbeats volleying against one another.
He sat up, my backside seated firmly against the hardness straining within his trousers. His palms dragged down my back, cupping my rounded cheeks, and I grabbed onto his nape.
I was going to incinerate.
Ancients, I wanted him.Neededhim.
He tore his mouth from mine, breathing raggedly, and nipped at my jaw. “You taste like I remember. Fucking salted honey,” he rasped against my neck.
I stilled, a chill slithering over my heated skin.
Confusion and unmitigated guilt clung to my awareness.
Kaden had said something similar to me months ago.
But whatever was happening between Gavrel and me felt different.
More potent.
Its talons digging into my spine.
But Kaden …
My fingers flinched against his nape, and I untangled them as I slowly rose from his lap. “I’m … I’m sorry. I can’t?—”
“Don’t.” His hands gently rested on my hips as his eyes met mine, lips swollen. With a gaze that was soft and assessing, he pressed his fingers into my breeches ever so slightly, bringing me back to reality.
“This was a mistake. I … I can’t do this. Kaden … He said something about salted?—”
“Don’t,” he repeated, wincing as if I’d slapped him, hands dropping immediately from my body. Although his tone was low, the sharp edge of it cut through me. A shadowed look slammed over his face as he stood, brushing off his breeches and then picking up our weapons. His movements were those of a well-honed commander.
Efficient and precise.
Perfunctory.
He slipped my dagger into the sheath at my hip, his emeralds digging into the ice that was surely coating my irises. “It wasn’t a mistake.” He moved toward our skiff bobbing in the muck. He gripped his broadsword, the sound of it scraping through the air as it slid into its leather scabbard.
“Gav, I …”
He looked at me, a look of utter resoluteness sweeping over his features. His jaw hardened into a square, its edges ticking near his earlobes.
I sucked in a breath, certain that he’d keep what he so clearly wanted to say tethered. That he’d walk away like he had all those turns ago. Keep his thoughts and feelings locked away—buried beneath his secrets—so I couldn’t reach him.
With my pulse slamming against my neck, he proved me wrong. All at once, he was in front of me. He cupped either side of my neck. Despite the barely contained restraint pushing at his tense muscles, his touch was gentle. So gentle, I thought he might be a figment of my imagination.
His nostrils flared. “I don’t give a damn what my brother said to you. What happened between you two; it’s a memory. I aim to be your today and every tomorrow after that.” His eyes softened, and a fist full of fireflies fluttered through my belly. He stepped back, and his fingers slipped from my skin. The loss of them burrowed deep within my soul. “What happens between us is entirely our own. No one else’s.”
I blinked a few times, clearing away the fuzzy warmth. Unbidden, the memory of Gavrel tearing my heart out two autumns ago took its place like a bucket of iced water pouring over me. Ire bubbled up my throat, my eye squinting dangerously. “How dare you!”
He froze, eyes widening.
I poked my finger into his chest. It was like stabbing a rock wall. “How dare you say such things, you … you wanker!”
Tilting his head, he wiggled his jaw, but it didn’t rid him of theticking along the hinge. Several wayward ebony strands fell over his forehead.
A sound of pure frustration reverberated in my throat as I squeezed my nails into my palms, preventing myself from swiping my fingers across his brow. “My today? My tomorrows? How dare you so easily forget thatyouare the reason this”—my hand thumped against his chest and then gripped the fabric over mine—“was torn apart. You had me then. Until you tossed me aside.”
He stepped into my space, nostrils flaring. My body stilled, vibrating with anger and anticipation and need. I looked at him from under my lashes, fists clenching. Was that the sound of my heart or his thudding feverishly against muscle and bone?
