Page 91 of In the Ravenous Dark
His eyes flash back up to mine. He shakes his head as his fingers trail down the other side of my jaw. “I’m sorry. I know what I’ve done to you. I know the situation is awful. I’m so sorry about your mother, your father. I understand if you hate me. And if you hate what you’ve become.”
I can’t think about my mother at all right now—my thoughts recoil when I even try—and I think about my own…situation… far less when he’s touching me. His hand drops, but I catch it. Before long, his thumb runs over my knuckles, caressing my fingers. He can’t seem to help it. I crave the feeling as much as he seems to.
Maybe I should feel guilty, enjoying this after everything he’s done, but right now I can’t find it in me. It’s not that I don’t care about his actions, but dying maybe put it all in perspective.
“I have no right to expect anything,” he continues. “And Idon’texpect anything.” He marvels at our interlocked hands for a moment, and then he looks up with a crooked smile. “But even in the midst of all of this, I can’t help but think how beautiful you are. To appreciate more than anything that I have another chance to tell you that I love you.”
My eyes sting. I’m not sure if I can cry anymore.
“I love you, too,” I whisper. “Despite everything. Even if I shouldn’t.”
He buries his hand in my hair and leans in to kiss me.
Before he can, I say, “But I have to tell you that I also love Lydea. I’ve been a complete ass, and I don’t know if she loves me anymore—or if she ever did—but that doesn’t change how I feel.”
His grin appears a mere finger’s breadth from my lips. He draws the tip of his nose to mine and rubs it back and forth a couple of times. “You don’t think I already know that? And after all that I’ve seen, I don’t believe love is a finite resource. How could I begrudge something that should be celebrated? As long as she doesn’t mind me, that is.”
I know she won’t—rather, if she cares about me at all anymore, in her anger and disappointment. Like every other painful thing trying to get my attention, I can’t dwell on that right now.
If it’s Ivrilos’s intention to distract me, it’s working.
“Goddess, you’re beautiful,” he whispers.
I stare at him in the same awe with which he’s looking at me. “Now I want to kiss you until I can’t breathe.” I grimace. “I mean—”
He leans the rest of the way forward, his fingers tightening in my hair and sending a thrill through me. “I know what you mean,” he whispers against my lips. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how.”
And then,oh, he’s kissing me. And he’s using every bit of that focus he usually devotes to stalking and fighting. Maybe it’s better that I don’t need to breathe. The other times our lips have touched felt almost incidental in comparison. A means to an end. This, now, is the end.
Or so I think, until he extracts his hand from my hair. While he kisses me with slow deliberation, his fingertips slide luxuriously down my neck, my arm, my side, until his palm comes to rest on my thigh, which I’ve unconsciously lifted to meet him. He tightenshis grip, pulling me into him. My legs part just the right amount. I gasp as I make contact with him and a burst of heat radiates out from my hips, tingling all the way up my scalp.
It occurs to me that my shift is short and it wouldn’t take much for us to fit more completely together.
“Ivrilos,” I murmur between kisses. “I want you.” And then, “Um, can we? Does everything still work?”
He groans into my mouth, shifting his weight. “I haven’t exactly been practicing, but there’s only one way to find out.”
His strong arms close around me, and he drags me on top of him. After that, it doesn’t take much wriggling until I have him where I want him. Part of me can’t believe I’m doing this, and the other can’t wait. There’s a pause: that breath—or lack thereof—before the plunge. And then I sink down onto him just as he surges to meet me.
The look of wonder that crosses his face is beautiful. Almost like it’s his first time.
I guess ithasbeen a while.
We both gasp. And we keep gasping, as if we’re trying not to drown in each other. But as his hips keep lifting to meet mine, wave after wave of him, an ocean of sensation, I’m happy to drown. At the same time, that warm, delicious feeling begins to rise inside me. I guess some things do still work.
But then Ivrilos cries out. Too soon.
“I—I’m sorry,” he stammers when he can form words again. “It’s… uh… been a long time. That was fast.” He looks blissfully disheveled, discomfited.
I grin. “It doesn’t have to be over yet.”
He goes completely still beneath me. His gaze is fixed. Hungry. Giving me the confidence I need.
I lean forward, both to kiss him and to adjust my hips. But then there’s a shout, and the door to whatever room we’re in flies open,making us both freeze. Japha comes charging in, their hands raised to sketch sigils.
Those hands fly immediately to their eyes. “Oh my goddess, what did I even just see? Who isthat? Aren’t you supposed to be dead, Rovan? What thehell?”
I’m mortified, but at least they didn’t see much. I’m only sitting on top of Ivrilos, although our clothing is hiked a little high on our thighs. I roll off him and onto the bed, dragging my white shift down. Ivrilos launches to his feet, tugging his own black tunic lower.
