Page 54 of Blood Weaver
“I know,” he said confidently. “But one day you will.” He caressed the side of my face with his free hand and intertwined his fingers through my hair as he pulled me closer. “But for now, I’m willing to accept just a taste,” he whispered.
My heart raced like the hooves of a thousand horses. I held my breath for fear of breaking the moment. Just a taste was what he wanted … the question was, was I willing to stop there?
The gap between us was gradually diminishing. Not just the physical, but the emotional chasms that kept us at arm’s length had started to unravel. The piney scent of the surrounding woods and the cool night air mingled with his scent. It was wild yet comforting, alien yet hauntingly familiar.
As the distance between our lips shortened, a torrent of memories rushed through my consciousness—my journey so far, unveiled truths, the battles we’d fought together, and the impending war that lurked in the shadows. Each memory, revelation, and prediction laid bare the undeniable—the enemy was not the man before me, but rather the circumstances that brandished us as adversaries.
Our lips met, and the dam of restrained emotions burst forth. It was not a mere physical union but an amalgamation of complex sentiments—the subtle union of resentment, attraction, resistance, and surrender. It was passionate and restrained, exploratory and familiar. A conflict and a resolution, a question and an answer, all rolled into a coalesced moment that seemed suspended in eternity.
“I …” The words trailed away and I slumped toward him.
“I know,” he responded. We were in uncharted territories; lands where crimson flags and crescent moons didn’t dictate loyalties and hatred. “If a taste is all you can give me, then a taste is what I’ll accept.”
I couldn’t pinpoint the moment when things shifted between us. All I recognized was the pull that grew stronger as each day passed. It was harder and harder to say no.
He pulled me toward him again and his lips crashed against mine. The raw intensity that lingered between us was drawn taut like the bowstrings before a war.
The conflicting realms of our existence, of crescent moons and crimson flags, warriors and princesses, captors and allies, dissolved in the intimate space where touch was the language, silent yet eloquent, expressive yet restrained. In the sanctuary of that moment, titles were irrelevant and roles were inconsequential. We were but two souls, warring though yearning, separate though inseparable.
I couldn’t get enough.
I reached for his leathers, fumbling as I tried to undo them. His hand settled over mine and he stopped me before pulling away.
“Now … is not the time,” he said.
I stared deep into his eyes, confused by his reaction. Then again, we were in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the Crimson Clan right outside my tent. It wasn’t exactly the most romantic of places.
As if he could read my thoughts, he chuckled. “Trust me, Leila … I want to. But there are things you don’t know.” He murmured the last part and glanced down at our intertwined hands with a pained expression.
“Like?” I questioned.
He looked away. “I … I can’t say.”
I nodded and tried not to get upset. Of course there were secrets still being kept from me. Why wouldn’t there be? It seemed everyone knew something to which I wasn’t privy. The question was, did it revolve around me?
“I won’t force you to tell me everything,” I whispered. “But just tell me one thing … Does this secret affect me?”
His gaze found mine and he slowly nodded.
My mind raced as I tried to connect the dots, but without more details, I was at a loss. Details that Ronan wouldn’t share. It was a stark reminder that even though he didn’t consider himself to be my enemy, Ronan and the Crimson Clan were not to be trusted.
I pulled my hand out of his and put some distance between us. The rush of coldness that swept between us made me shiver.
“Leila—”
“You don’t have to explain further,” I stopped him. “I don’t want you to have to lie to me.”
He remained quiet, a silent admittance, then nodded again and slowly stood to leave.
I grabbed his arm to stop him. “I didn’t say I wanted you to go.”
He looked over at me in shock. “You still want me to stay?”
“At least until I fall asleep,” I said. “Will you stay with me?”
“Always.”
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