Page 49 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"That sounds lovely," I said, though my pulse had quickened at the look in his eyes.
He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "But what I really want," he continued, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me, "is to take you back to my rooms and make love to you until we both forget everything else."
Heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading outward in a wave that left me breathless. It had been too long since we'd been together like that – weeks of stolen moments and hasty kisses that never satisfied the deeper hunger.
"That sounds better than the theatre," I managed, my voice husky with desire.
His smile was slow and full of promise. "I was hoping you'd say that."
13
Ipaid for our meal quickly, leaving too many coins on the table in my eagerness to be alone with her. We left the tavern hand in hand, our pace quickening as we wound through the afternoon crowds. The weight of her hand in mine felt both familiar and miraculous – this fierce, complicated woman who had saved me from the emptiness I'd inhabited for so long after losing everything. We walked in charged silence, occasionally exchanging glances that sent heat coursing through my veins. Each time our eyes met, her lips would curve into a small, private smile that made my heart stutter.
"Almost there," I murmured as we turned onto the narrow street where I'd been living these past months. The air was sweet with the scent of fresh bread from below, and the cobblestones were worn smooth from centuries of feet.
The rooms I shared with Antonius were humble – nothing like the grand chambers she now occupied at the Academy. A single window let in shafts of late afternoon sunlight, illuminating thenarrow bed with its simple linen coverings, the small table with its two mismatched chairs, the wooden chest containing my few possessions. A copper basin sat on the washstand, and herbs hung from the rafters, a habit I'd picked up from my mother long ago.
I closed the door behind us, conscious that Antonius might return at any time, and not wanting to be interrupted, but then she was in my arms and any other thought flew out of my head. Suddenly I was kissing her with all the hunger that had been building since the moment I'd seen her emerge from her chambers in that blue dress. Her lips parted beneath mine, eager and welcoming, her body pressing against me as if she could erase the weeks we'd been apart through sheer force of will.
I tangled my fingers in her braid, gently working it loose until her dark hair spilled over my hands like water. She made a small sound of pleasure against my mouth, her own hands busy with the fastenings of my tunic.
"I've missed you," I breathed against her skin as my lips traced the delicate line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. "Every day."
"Show me how much," she challenged, her voice a husky command that sent a jolt of desire straight through me.
I guided her toward the bed, our clothing falling away piece by piece as we moved. When I untied the simple belt at her waist and slipped the blue dress from her shoulders, I had to pause, just to look at her. The late afternoon sunbathed her skin in golden light, highlighting the lean muscles of her arms, the gentle curves of her breasts, the scars that mapped her journey from village girl to warrior.
"You're so beautiful," I said, the words inadequate for what I felt.
She smiled, a hint of shyness in her expression that was at odds with her usual confidence. "Even with all my scars?"
"Especially with your scars." I traced the longest one, a pale line that ran from her collarbone to just below her right breast – a memento from her first real fight in the arena. "They tell your story. Your courage."
Her hands found my chest, fingers splaying across the muscles there, tracing my own collection of battle marks. "Then we match," she said simply.
I lowered her onto the bed, following her down until we were lying face to face, our bodies pressed together from chest to thigh. For a moment, we just looked at each other, reconnecting after too many weeks apart. I studied the gold flecks in her dark eyes, the small freckle at the corner of her mouth, the way her hair spilled across my pillow.
"What are you thinking?" she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on my shoulder.
So many things. About how she'd just told me she was involved with not only a nobleman at the Academy but also with Tarshi. About how instead of feeling jealous or betrayed, I felt strangely relieved that she had others to care for her when I couldn't be there. About how terrified I was for her, infiltrating the Academy, planning to assassinate the Emperor himself.
"I'm thinking about how much I love you," I said instead, because it was the simplest truth, the one that contained all the others.
Her eyes softened. "Marcus..."
I silenced her with a kiss, not wanting words between us right now. Words were complicated, filled with plans and fears and impossibilities. This – her skin against mine, her heartbeat quickening under my palm – this was simple. This was real.
I took my time, relearning her body with hands and lips and tongue. The sensitive spot just below her ear that made her gasp when I kissed it. The arch of her spine when my fingers traileddown it. The way her breath hitched when I cupped her breast, my thumb circling the hardened peak.
"Please," she murmured, her hips rising to meet mine, seeking more contact.
I obliged, shifting to settle between her thighs, but not entering her yet. Instead, I continued my slow exploration, trailing kisses down the valley between her breasts, across the taut plane of her stomach, lower still until I reached the heart of her.
The first touch of my mouth against her core made her cry out, her hands flying to my hair. I smiled against her skin, remembering how responsive she'd always been to this particular attention. I worked her slowly, deliberately, my tongue circling and stroking until her thighs trembled on either side of my head.
"Marcus," she gasped, her voice breaking on my name. "I need—I need—"
I knew what she needed. I quickened my pace, adding my fingers to the rhythm my tongue had established. Her back arched off the bed, her body going taut as a bowstring as her release crashed over her. I gentled my touch but didn't stop, drawing out her pleasure until she collapsed back onto the mattress, gasping and shaking.
