Page 24 of The Silent
ChapterSix
She was here.In front of him. Real and tangible, not one of the dreams that tormented him. Her gold eyes were wide with shock. Her fair skin had grown tan, and her dark hair had streaks of amberthroughit.
“Leo.”
She said his name, but he couldn’tspeak.
“What are youdoinghere?”
Leo’s heart was beating out of his chest. His mind was a jumble, and no coherent thought would form. A singular instinct took holdofhim.
Away.
He tugged Kyra’s hand and turned, ducking under a hanging rack of lanterns and pulling her down a narrow alley between two market stands. She went with him for a few meters, then pulled onhishand.
“Stop!” she cried. “You don’t understand. I’m with friends. It’s not what youthink.”
He turned and Kyra’s momentum pushed her into hischest.
She looked up, her expression still baffled. “Leo, I don’t understand what you’redoinghere.”
He swallowed and opened his mouth, but again no words came out. How could he explain? How could he explain anything? His appearance. His actions. The reaction he hadtowardher.
Reshon.
The longing thought leapt to his mind. Was it the voice of his soul or a mad wish? He’d vowed to wait for hisreshon—his soul mate chosen by heaven—when he was a young scribe, hopeful and romantic. A vow he’d wondered about since the first time he saw Kyra and she told him,“You make the voicesgoaway.”
“Leo,tellme—”
Leo bent down and wrapped his arm around her waist, drew Kyra’s mouth to his, andkissedher.
Her taste exploded on his lips. It was everything new and everything familiaratonce.
Yes.
Thereyouare.
Her kiss tasted like ginger and oranges. Her lips were as unpracticed as his own. Kyra’s arms came around his neck, and he felt the contact move through him like an electric current. Her kiss was the rain. Her touch, the lightning. He gripped her waist harder. Would he bruise her? She kissed him back, one hand gripping his hair at his nape as her mouth moved eagerly againsthisown.
He’d only kissed her in his dreams. He’d imagined it in real life a hundred times. A thousandperhaps.
The heady taste of Kyra was far better thandreams.
She pulled back, gasping. “What are youdoing?”
“Kissing you.” His voice was rough. “I’mkissingyou.”
Leo kissed her again, ravenous for another taste. Her head fell back and he kissed her neck. Behind her ear. He set her down so his hands could slide over the delicate wings of her shoulder blades where her skin was bare. Was his skin too rough? He had many calluses from training. Would they scratch her? Did she like to bescratched?
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he said against hermouth.
“I don’t understand.” Her teeth scraped across his lower lip, and Leo shuddered. “What are youdoinghere?”
“I told you.” Heaven above! Did every woman’s skin taste so delectable? How did their mates keep their mouths away from them? Leo kissed along Kyra’s jawline. And her scent! “So good,” hemuttered.
He’d been aroused before; after all, he was hundreds of years old and scribes were never meant to be monks. But nothing compared to the pounding urgency in his body to take her, devour her, consume her passion to feedhisown.
A mate chosen byheaven.
