Page 117 of Skyshade
“Hours, sometimes.”
Hours?
She wouldn’t survive hours in here. Not with all the heat. Not when she was already boiling.
No use in waiting. Wincing against the feeling of the fabric shifting against her raw skin, she slowly peeled the rest of her clothing off, until she was naked. She crossed her legs and pulled them to her chest, in an attempt to cover anything she could.
Isla wasn’t sure Oro was breathing. He was just watching her, looking like he might be close to losing his mind. Sweat slipped downher neck, between her breasts, and he traced its path with his eyes. Swallowed.
For several minutes, Oro sat very still. He didn’t move a muscle. Then, as the heat intensified, made warmer by their body heat, he took off his shirt. His pants were next.
She knew she shouldn’t, but she watched his own sweat slide down his chest, down muscle as hard as the rock behind her. For a moment, she imagined tracing it with her finger. Feeling his golden skin against—
Isla turned away.
It was too hot. It was messing with her head. She couldn’t think straight.
She reached for the link between them, to use Moonling ability to freeze the water dripping down her chest, hoping to offer some sort of relief, but her energy was nearly depleted. Only a single bead of sweat turned to ice, before her power flickered away.
“Here,” Oro said. He reached a hand toward her. “May I?”
At first, she tensed, and he dropped his hand. She was naked. But then, she understood his meaning. She understood what he was offering.
Cold. Relief. She should say no. He was her enemy. He’d had his blade against her throat just hours ago. She was married to someone else.
Still...she found herself saying yes.
Oro gently, very gently, ran his hand down her arm, and her every nerve awakened. She was coated in sweat, but he didn’t seem to mind. Under his touch, the water cooled, and she groaned as his icy hand smoothed across her heated skin.
She pressed her lips together against the sound, for it was far more sensual than she had meant it to be. Oro’s throat worked as he moved to the other arm. Everywhere he touched was soothed, calmed. Shewas greedy for it. Desperate. She took his hand in hers, making him tense, and placed it on her forehead. She closed her eyes and sighed. It dulled the ache. He dulled the ache.
After a few moments, she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. Amber eyes. She had missed that color. The heat was doing wild things to her head. She remembered a time just like this, during the Centennial, when he’d had his hands on her, to heal her. She had only been in her underthings. She remembered, and it made her forget herself. Forget the other half of her heart. She couldn’t help but move his fingers down her face, her jaw, her throat.
“Isla,” he said, his voice dark and rasped, and it made her remember even more. She dragged his hand down her chest, to her heart. His fingers were long against her bare aching skin, and she sighed again.
“It feels so good,” she said, barely knowing what was coming out of her mouth. “It feels so good when you touch me.”
His eyes darkened. His other hand was splayed next to her head, stiff with restraint, veins taut. He didn’t dare move, not unless she guided him.
And she did. She slipped their hands down her chest. Down her stomach.
An ache began to build. An ache for him, an ache from the past. A memory. She started to remember the day before the battle, and everything they had done.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She stilled their hands.
Sorry? Why would he be sorry?
His thumb gently swept across her stomach, over a scar that hadn’t yet completely healed. The place Zed had put an arrow through her.
“He’s imprisoned. It doesn’t erase what he did—he, he shouldn’t have—”
“You put him in a cell?” she asked, part of her sanity returning. He nodded. Zed was one of his oldest friends. But he had tried to kill her.
Her thoughts seemed to slither free from the grip of her mind. Everything was slippery. Everything was magnified, especially this ache within her.
She guided his hand lower again. Lower, until his knuckles traced a path between her hip bones, leaving her skin prickling.
