Page 76 of Ember and Eclipse
“Mmhmm.”
“The witch prison.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you get out?”
His jaw ticked beneath her palm. “I lost myself for a time. My humanity. Two years in wolf form almost made it impossible to shift back. When I was able to come back from what I had become, they were all dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he rumbled.
“Did no one know you were still there?”
“They didn’t, no. Or didn’t care. Tabion was lost in a different way after Alessa. I never told him about how long I was trapped there because I didn’t want him to ever feel guilty.”
She didn’t say anything else, the feeling that he didn’t want to expound upon the story hanging between them. So, instead, she returned to massaging him. First, his jaw. Her thumbs worked over the muscles on either side. He didn’t move, and she couldn’t tell whether he was enjoying it. She had only ever given such a massage to herself and knew it helped relieve tension from clenching and grinding her teeth. When she felt the muscle loosen, knots melting away under her fingertips, she moved to where his shoulder met his neck. She immediately earned a rumbling sound of pleasure from him that set her nerves alight.
Just as she was finishing, her fingers tired and sleepy herself, he caught her hand. She met his upside-down gaze.
“What sorcery is this?” His voice was low and held a dangerous roughness to it.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play innocent.” He spread her fingers out, looking them over. “Are you softening me up? Throwing me off course? Have a hidden dagger on you?”
“No,” she said breathlessly, unsure of exactly what he was insinuating.
“You just wanted to touch me then?” He kissed her palm and then placed it along his cheek.
“Perhaps,” she said, pursing her lips.
“And now you’re finished?”
“It would seem—”
But before she could finish her sentence, he had somehow rolled over and pulled her beneath him.
When the shock of the movement passed, she let out a laugh, breathy and barely audible. Devdan stilled, searching her face as if he had just experienced something holy.
Finally, he whispered, “It’s my turn.”
“For what?”
“To touch you.”
She wanted to mention that he touched her most nights while holding her, always rubbing her back. Not to mention the stolen ones—his hand lingering longer than necessary when she handed him something, or his habit of standing or walking too close to her, their arms brushing. But she didn’t.
“But this time”—he lowered his face to her neck, his warm breath sending electrifying chills through her—“I’m going to need your sanction.”
A thrill of intrigue and uncertainty ran through her, but he continued. “I’ll only touch you where you touched me tonight, such as here.” He kissed her neck, and she instantly put her head back, giving him access to her throat.
“And here,” he murmured, trailing a path down her throat to the juncture. When he paused, it took her a long moment before she tilted her chin down. His silver eyes were full of hunger. “Your permission,” he reminded her.
She nodded once.
“Use your words, Esmerelda.”
Her full name on his lips caused her own to part. She hadn’t told anyone her full name since leaving her home village. Before that, it would have only been her mother who called her by it. But somehow, it felt safe in his voice, in this space. She didn’t even feel the need to ask him how he knew.
