Page 34 of What Whispers in the Dark
“The look on Thalon’s face … I thought he might return to Tarrent-Garren and repent to the council in that instant before Aiden choked in a laughing fit. I also believed Thalon might throw us out the window, so I sealed those with a shield too.”
Stars, had it been that long since he wanted to laugh that hard? If Aiden had not already been choking, Thalon would have done it to him.
Alora covered her mouth; her shoulders bounced.
Voices from a bonfire far below attempted to thieve his attention, but Garrik found himself continuing, “Another time, Aiden convinced us to steal from Brennus’s tent. A dormant dragon egg—or so we foolishly thought. With so many vapid treasures,how could the daft-wit possibly notice one bloody thing would go missing,” repeating Aiden’s words—in his accent too.
“Let me guess…” Alora mused.
“It was noticed missing,” they spoke simultaneously.
In an instant, her face turned toward him, so close her lips nearly brushed his. Close—too close.
But she did not move. Neither did he.
Was she even breathing? Washe? Caught in a trance that captivated her eyes, no doubt mirroring what was found in his.
Staring at each other as if nothing else existed. The last words spoken had melted away, and nothing but the sound of her near-silent, sharp breath replaced them.
His impeccable attention shifted to the way her lips parted. Impossible to stop himself from picturing the last moment her lips were this close. Where now, a slim shift forward would have his binding to hers so perfectly like when she last touched him at the inn—drunk on desire and need. The warmth of her palm on his cheek, another laced in his hair. Her body pressed against his, heartbeat roaring.
Her kiss …
‘You have no idea how badly I want to take you to that bed and fuck you till dawn.’
And from the way Alora swallowed. The way her eyes fell heavy and full of salacious affection, the way her body stiffened, Garrik speculated she remembered the same.
He breathed out; her knees tightened. And of course, he noticed—every movement, every twitch of her body—so he cocked his head subtly.
An invitation? A plea?
Another voice surfaced. Alora’s. Toying, taunting,‘You should visit her tonight, would certainly make for a pleasurable end to your birthday.’
She had spoken of Calla. But he did not desire Calla—did not want to think of her in this moment. Had never desired anyone beyond a mild appreciation of beauty. There was no one else. No one but?—
Alora cleared her throat and quickly found the sky, her cheeks scarletting as she whispered, “I could watch the stars forever and never tire of them.” A distraction, this conversation. For his sake or hers, he was not certain. But he could have thanked her for it—or damned her—becausestars burn him, he was focusing on her mouth again. Wishing those lips would have stolen his instead of murmuring, “I wonder what the Stars Eternal look like.”
Like you. “Entirely perfect in every way,” he answered. A little too raw, open.
Alora said nothing. Her tired eyes lowered slightly, and he inspected the wall of shadows inside his mind to be certain he did not reveal his thoughts to her. Being around Alora … how his precious control was always a thread-thin moment from unraveling whenever she so much as blinked in his direction.
He felt the eyes of every Celestial burning into him the moment he had said the words. Felt their outrage and vengeful excitement, thrilling to unleash wrath on someone so unworthytoimaginetheir glory. Todarea comparison of a mortal to their splendor.
Go ahead and damn him for it. Firekeeper had a place prepared for him.
“How,” was all she breathed, then shuffled onto her side, and yawned again. With diminishing vigor, she asked, “How do you know?” Alora went still when her head lowered to the blanket. She winced, rocking her shoulders and lengthening her neck. Winced again when the movement did nothing to bring comfort, she sighed with soft frustration.
And he may have felt or sensed something. Some vital inclination demanding action.
He could not bear her discomfort. To the point he ignored his warnings and entertained offering his arm.
But would she accept it?
Accept this piece of him? In such an … intimate position. Would she allow him to?
A cruel part of him taunted echoes of selfishness. Not only did he yearn for her comfort, but he wished to know what it would feel like. He could damn himself tomorrow because to have her in his arms … again. To bring her that solace she so willingly provided for him. But not like last night. Not leaning against an oak and injured while she spoke sense into him. Not like holding her body while they soared with Smokeshadow wings in moonlight.
This was different. Lying on his back … for the first time in decades … willingly … allowing someone to touch him while in this vulnerable state.
