Page 82 of The Book of Legends
The scent of cheap coffee. Candle wax. The hum of city life just outside the window. I’m back.
In my dorm room.
I land awkwardly, breathless, on top of Kainen. His hands grip my hips, steadying me. I’m straddling his lap. He’s still holding me.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
He smirks. “You brought me into a realm without weapons. Reckless, Thrazelene.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper, my breath hitching. “Look. It’s real. I wasn’t lying.”
He stares, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.
“I believe you,” he says softly.
And then I don’t know who moves first. Maybe him. Maybe me. But suddenly, his lips are crashing into mine. It’s frantic. Breathless. Hungry. Not just a kiss—an unraveling. A claim.
One I’m not ready for.
And one I can’t resist.
His kiss isn’t gentle.
Itconsumes.
I shouldn't want this. I shouldn'twant him. But the moment our mouths collide, all my reasons burn to ash.
My fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, desperate, trembling. I should stop him. Remind him where we are—whowe are. But every time his hands touch me, the world goes silent, and all that exists ishim. The heat. The gravity.
He turns us, and I land with a breathless gasp on the mattress, my back arching at the contact. His cloak surrounds us, trapping the heat, drowning out the world. I feel the scrape of his armor, the leather and steel still clinging to his frame, the jagged edges of scars that drag across my bare skin.
His breath skates along my throat, reverent. Shaking.
“You’re real,” he murmurs, voice raw. Like a prayer on the edge of a battlefield.
“I told you I was,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair.
It’s soft. Too soft for a warrior. Too gentle for the things he's done.
And when his lips trail lower—down the curve of my throat, over the hollow of my collarbone—I feel it.
Thehesitation.
His movements are fluid, but not practiced. Every caress istoo careful, like he’s discovering me. Like he's never had this—me—before.
One hand pins mine above my head, while the other slips beneath my shirt. I gasp when his calloused palm glides over my ribs, then lower. Reverent. Possessive. Like I’m a weapon he doesn’t know how to wield… butneedsto.
“You drive me mad,” he rasps. “Everything about you. Your voice. The way you look at me. The way you breathe.”
“You don’t control me,” I whisper, panting.
His lips brush mine again, softer now. Slower. “No,” he agrees. “But I’d burn down kingdoms tobelongto you.”
My breath catches.
And just like that, we break.
His mouth crashes against mine in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and ruin. I arch into him, gasping when he grindsagainst my core, and the thickness I feel between us makes my thighs quiver.
