Page 39 of Blood Weaver
“You have a knack for making it do that,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The nearness of him, his scent—a mix of rain, earth, and something uniquely Ronan—was intoxicating.
His fingers stilled, his breath warm against the curve of my neck. “And what if I wanted to do more than just make your heart race?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below my earlobe.
A shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold, but from the heat of his touch. “What are you suggesting?” I challenged, but the tremble in my voice betrayed the thrill his words evoked.
He gently turned me to face him, and our eyes locked in a silent dance of challenge and vulnerability. Our wet clothes were pressed against each other, the coldness serving only to heighten our awareness. “Just this.” He closed the distance between us to capture my lips in a soft, exploratory kiss.
I responded, no longer willing or able to hold back. The warmth of his mouth was a stark contrast to the crisp night that surrounded us. It was a slow burn, an intimate dance of lips and tongues as we learned the other's taste and rhythm.
With a sudden jolt of realization, I gasped and pulled away, wincing from the movement. “You—”
“I didn’t—no, Ididmean to,” he said after some thought. “But I know you’re not ready yet. When you are, I’ll be here.” His lips brushed against my ear, igniting a cascade of shivers.
Silence fell. Within the sanctuary of his embrace, warmth seeped into my bones and beckoned slumber, eliciting reluctant comfort. Amidst the aria of the night, sleep claimed me, pulling me deep into its silent, peaceful abyss.
The golden huesof morning light weaved through the intricate patterns of leaves and branches at the cave’s mouth, painting ethereal patterns on the cave walls as I awoke. The rhythmic cadence of Ronan's breathing was the melody to the dawn’s awakening chorus. I was ensnared in the warm fortress of his arms, my cheek resting against the solid plane of his bare chest. Panic and confusion swarmed, and with a jolt, I pushed away.
Ronan's groan, deep and gravelly, echoed the grumbles of awakening nature. His crimson eyes, a vibrant contrast against the softer hues of dawn, blinked open, squinting as spears of sunlight sought entry.
“What … are you okay?” he grumbled. His voice was a fusion of concern and lingering drowsiness. “What’s going on?”
My gaze, wide and alert, was fixated on his bare chest. “When did you take off your clothes?” I questioned, my voice still rough with sleep.
His eyes followed my gaze and hearty laughter erupted, rich and full. “Apologies, princess. But in the dead of the night, your affinity for warmth turned me into a furnace.”
I scoffed and tried to ignore the heat that rushed to my cheeks as I hastily rose to my feet.
He followed as he collected his leathers and put them on. “And where do you think you’re going this early in the morning?”
I gestured ahead, where the forest deepened into a tapestry of green and gold. “I know a place we can stay. It’s safe.”
He looked dubious. “Is it far?”
“About sixteen kilometers from here,” I admitted.
A shadow of concern danced in his eyes. “You’re wounded, Leila. Can you endure the journey?”
With a sense of bravado I was unconvinced I could maintain, I walked to the cave opening and managed to only wince slightly from the pain. “I’m okay. If we stay here much longer, we’ll be in danger.”
With grim determination to evade those who pursued us, we extinguished the fire and began our trek through the woods. With each step I took, the pain of my injuries became a distant echo beneath the lullaby of awakening life around us. Each footfall into the lush expanse was both an escape and a journey deeper into the shadows.
Despite the lingering pain, an invigorating energy flowed through my veins, a gift from the verdant sanctuary that surrounded us. Ronan walked beside me, a silent guardian whose presence was both a reminder of the night’s haunting intimacy and a fortress against the echoing threats that lurked beyond the forest's embrace. I was acutely aware of his gaze, the way it flitted towards me with every wince, his silent promise of strength and protection echoing louder than words.
We walked in silence, yet in the quietude, echoes of unspoken words and unuttered feelings resonated, painting emotions as vivid as the blossoming flora that adorned our path.
Several hours of traversing the rhythmic heartbeats of the forest led us to a small clearing, where my cabin sat ensconced in nature's embrace. Framed by sturdy oak trees and overshadowed by the majestic mountains beyond, the cabin was a quaint structure—a testament to the simplicity of the woods.
“Is this it?” Ronan glanced around warily. “How do you know about this place?”
“It’s mine.” I walked to the unlocked door and pushed it open. “I stay here whenever I come up to the mountains to pick herbs and plants.”
The cabin door creaked to reveal its cozy interior. While not expansive, the space was thoughtfully utilized. Sunlight streamed through one window to illuminate the rustic wooden furniture and the single bed adorned with quilts, hinting at many nights spent beneath the stars. A pile of blankets, waiting to be fashioned into a makeshift bed, rested in one corner.
“And you’re sure no one will be able to find us?”
“You mean can the Valorian army find us?” I corrected, then shook my head. “I know these mountains inside and out. Unless you’re from the Central Plains, you won’t know how to get here.”
Ronan dug through his pockets and pulled out a dripping wet flare. “Well, there’s no way for me to inform Silas of our location.”
