Page 11 of A Song of Air
Everett sighed. “You know Arlo won’t be leader forever.”
She knew that. Just because he was half-Fae didn’t mean he didn’t age. He did. It was the more dominant, human part of him. Half-Fae lived longer than the average human, but less than a full-blooded Fae. So Arlo was training Ev for his eventual takeover. Even though Ev was human himself, he and Arlo were close. Close enough that Arlo would give up the reins of all that he’d built.
This war had done that; brought unlikely allies together to fight for a similar cause. Similar tragedies tethered the lot of them together.
“You won’t have to humiliate yourself like that when I’m leader.” Ev’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. “You won’t have to parade yourself around the new Fae, you won’t have to show off your scarred eyes. Not if you don’t want to...”
My scarred eyes.
The shrapnel from the iron hadn’t only taken a good portion of her sight. The lesions caused once-brown pupils to discolor to a milky, white hue. It had also scarred the skin on her eyelids, thin spiderwebs that spread down to the tops of her cheekbones, cutting through freckles. They hadn’t fully healed. How could they when she’d been thrown into an iron camp soon after? Her wounds had never been treated properly there, and they’d left their permanent mark on her body.
Malika said her scarred stare was frightening.
“Wouldn’t want to scare the new ones,” she jested, digging her elbow into his side.
“You don’t frighten them.”
Her silence was pointed.
“I’m serious. If anything, they’re intimidated by the best parts of you.”
“Oh, yeah? And what would those be?” she asked coyly, dropping her voice to a whisper.
Ev wasn’t too attractive for a human. When they were close, she liked to look over his imperfect features, the nose that was just a bit too strong, lips that were too full. His dark hair swooped low against his shoulders, kissing tan skin, and yet there was comfort in the imperfect parts ofhim.
Bryson wasn’t with Ev for hislooks,after all.
“Let’s see...” His fingers slid down the sleeve of her shirt, and she felt the warmth of him through the thin material. The slight touch made the wind around them churn a fraction and he released a chuckle that made her lips twitch. “There’s your skin.” His fingers stopped where the edge of her sleeve met her wrist. He encircled it, his touch light, seductive.
Her breath came out slowly. “Whataboutmy skin?”
He lifted her hand, bringing it to his mouth where he kissed the tips of her fingers one by one. They were calloused, but he didn’t seem to mind. His lips traced over them, sliding down to the back of her hand. He shoved her sleeve up to her elbow, trailing kisses all the way up her arm.
“It’s soft. Freckled.”
“Hmm...”
“I could kiss your freckles all day.” He kissed along her arm, stopping at the inside of her elbow and pulling away. For a moment, she lost his warmth until he grasped her by the hips and flipped her so she was straddling his lap.
She let out a breath of satisfaction when he pulled her down, grinding her center against the tightness of his own pants. Her hands clasped for his shoulders, tightening her grip as his hands traveled over her ass and the backs of her thighs.
His eyes flared and she was sure her own did too. She had to bite back her smile, the grip of satisfaction she got when he looked at her like that. Not like the others did. Not like something that had to be pitied. But like someone who was beautiful, even if she didn’t always feel it.
“Your ass, for sure.” He bent, his hair grazing hers as his lips clamped down on the side of her neck.
“Hmm...” A zing of pleasure swept through her body at the contact. “What else?”
He nipped her chin. “Your lips...”
“Oh, really—”
He interrupted her with a kiss. She lost herself in it, in him. His touch was a distraction from the chaos in her mind, if temporarily. But she would take it with the same fervor he gave. Their tongues tangled together in a fierce dance.
He was as quick in his undressing of her as he was with his seduction. It was always to the point and perfunctory, and her own hands grappled with his clothes just as quickly. A breeze sifted through the air, caressing Bryson’s hair as he lifted her body by the hips, digging his blunt nails into her thighs.
Their warm bodies met, and he entered her in one, fluid movement. She gasped as they joined, pressing close together. There was silence as he began to move, then grunted against her neck, swiping kisses in the darkness as they moved together with the night sky and the stars above them. And the breeze flittering. And a hawk crying.
And Bryson’s mind finally silencing.
