Page 114 of Oathborn
“We’re not what one would call exclusive.”
At his nod, they walked outside of the little room. Almost immediately, his arm slid around her waist, as if they were ice skating together. “I’ll try not to tickle you,” he said with a wink.
The damned fae would never be serious for long.
On the landing, soft voices echoed up. As they grew louder, Tivre pulled her close. True to his word, he avoided her lips and lavished attention on her collarbone, her shoulder, anywhere he could find.
Closing her eyes, Zari imagined that the kisses were Yansin’s, if it were his skilled hands and his warm body pressing closer to her. A small tremor raced through Zari. Her breath caught, and she turned away from Tivre.
“Too much?” he whispered.
She shook her head, just as a fae duo glided past. One made a commentunder their breath, and the other held their nose high in the air at Tivre’s antics.
Still holding her tight, Tivre kissed the top of her head. As soon as they were out of sight, he stepped back. “I know this isn’t ideal.”
“It’s worth it.” Her words sounded more unaffected than she was. If only the kisses were something to endure, like soreness from a hike, rather than thrilling jolts of pleasure. Even the small trace of guilt burned away.
“To think, kisses from me a burden to be suffered… what has this world come to?” He shook his head. Tivre, she realized, spent a great deal of effort on appearing to be one thing, all while believing quite another thing altogether.
The hallway ahead was cloaked in near-darkness, lit only by glass orbs mounted high on iron sconces. Within each orb, glowing sigils writhed and shimmered, their light twisting as though some restless creature had been caught within. Their glow painted the stone in shifting patterns, a far wilder illumination than any provided by the modern conveniences Zari was accustomed to. Now, Tivre’s fascination with the lamps in the train made sense.
How strange technology must seem to one whose world was fueled by magic.
Tivre skipped down the next set of stairs, before waiting for her. He moved effortlessly through the winding halls, not phased by the dark, nor at all lost. Clearly, he was very familiar with the palace. How lonely his childhood must have been, in such a vast building with so few people.
Unless, had these empty corridors been filled with fae, before the war?
Some Rhydonian towns lost a full quarter of their men to the war. Had the fae suffered far greater losses?
“Tivre, do you—”
“Do I have affection for you? No, of course not. This is merely a ruse.”
He had the worst habit of cutting her off with answers that had nothing to do with her questions. She frowned. “That’s not what I was going to—”
“Are you sure?” His sidelong glance at Zari made her breath catch.
When the other nurses had spoken of late-night kisses, they’d talked of butterflies in their stomachs and fluttering eyelashes, not infernos and aching hungers. Would such yearnings ever be sated? Or was it impossible to cease burning? Had these passionate encounters changed her forever?
For she still craved Yansin, even as she found herself more drawn to Tivre than ever before. It was Yansin’s face which sprang to mind as Tivre took her hand to lead her ahead. He too had grown up on these isles. He’d hinted his passions ran deep, his hungers wild, had told her he was no Rhydonian gentleman at all.
Was this what he meant? Would Yansin have the same skill, the same sensual touches as Tivre had?
Footsteps sounded. Soft, gentle tapping steps, followed by the swish of fabric. More fae were approaching.
This time, Zari moved first, pushing Tivre to the wall. She told herself this was just pretending, no different from acting in a play. So, she planted a kiss hard on that smirk of his. He melted against her, fingers slipping through her curls. As her breath caught, Tivre took the lead, deepening the kiss so her tongue brushed over the edges of his fangs.
Was she no longer acting now? The heat of the moment, the desire within her, made the question impossible to answer. When they pulled apart, her body felt awake in strange ways, like after scandalous dreams left her hot and uncomfortable under the sheets.
“I am sorry your first kiss was under such a pretense,” Tivre said as they walked down the hall.
“It wasn’t.” No, she had shared that with Yansin, and it had been everything these kisses had not been. Sweet, and gentle, and… had those kisses been genuine? Zari shook her head. “What does a first kiss matter to a cad like you?”
If he heard the barb in her voice, he ignored it. “My first kiss was with a mage named Nesha. She was lovely, sweet, a musician. Killed by a sniper the first day she went to the front.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My second, another mage, and third was Halvesh, an Oathborn. Fourth and fifth were a delightful couple, both Oathborn seeking novelty. Sixth.” He shrugged. “What does it matter? Each of them died in battle. As did everyone I spent the night with, from mage to soldier, as the war dragged on.”
