Page 32 of Reign of Light
Weston scowls. “Jorn will not be accompanying me here. Ever.”
“Never say never,” I say with a giggle, and Weston’s eyes darken in the dim light.
“Never. Only you.”
My cheeks heat as I look down, finally taking in the pool that takes up most of the space. The dark depths are carved into the ground, with stone steps disappearing into it just before us. Rivulets of steam rise from the surface, and a soft trickling current flows toward the edge.
“A hot spring?” I ask, looking up at Weston.
“With one of the best views on the island.” He releases my hand and toes off his boots at the same time as he finds his belt buckle. Seeing Weston with so few weapons feels strange. From the first moment Imet him in the cave, he was always heavily armed. It’s a testament to how much he believes we are safe from Dane, how much he trusts the island’s view of the Voyagers.
The tendons in his forearms ripple as his fingers deftly undo his belt, dropping it and the single sword onto the stone floor with his boots. He tugs the hem of his shirt from his pants, his arms crossing over his body as he lifts it over his head before letting it fall to the ground. Eyes grazing over his abdomen, I follow the ripples of muscle, trailing across his scar and down to the deeply cut crease that dives into his low-slung waistband. My mouth goes dry, and I don’t realize I’m biting my bottom lip until his sultry laugh rumbles over the trickle of the water.
My head snaps up to his, only to find a satisfied smirk planted there.
“Enjoying the view?” A single eyebrow raises, and his eyes sparkle in the darkness.
“Can you blame me?”
His smile widens, and he lifts his chin toward me as his hands grasp the button. “Are you going to take your clothes off or do I have to come do it for you?” His pants fall to the ground, and my lips part as my eyes devour Weston’s beautiful, naked form. Heat surges through my body as my heart pounds steadily between my thighs, and flutters of anticipation pull my focus away from responding to his question.
Weston embodies every primal desire, his body so commanding and unyielding, it’s no wonder he’s the want of almost every woman who lays eyes on him. Despite every word he’s said to me, his oath, his worshiping of my body, I still can’t believe that this man wants me.
And he does.
I can see it in the way he watches me, waiting for an answer, holding himself back from taking what he wants. What is his.
You’re mine.
“I don’t know,” I say, holding my arms out in front of me so the long sleeves of his shirt dangle off my frame. My lips tip into a smirk as I tilt my head to the side. “I might need some help.”
He doesn’t hesitate, accepting my invitation as he closes the distance between us. Heat warms me through the thin fabric as his hands find my body instantly, wrapping around my waist. His fingers work, gathering the hem of the shirt as his eyes drag over the swell of my breasts that peek through the deep neckline from where I lazily left it unbuttoned.
Rough knuckles graze my skin, goosebumps erupting in their wake as he fists the shirt and lifts the fabric over my head, dropping it down into the pile he’s already created. My nipples pebble at the exposure, and I tilt my head back to watch him watching me. My breath catches, and they harden further when one hand wraps around my ribs, settling just beneath the curve, close enough that his thumb gently strokes the underside, causing them both to go heavy.
“Step out of your boots.” The command is low and gentle, and our eyes stay locked together as I kick them off. His hands slide down my body, rough fingers grazing the sensitive skin, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. With his thumbs tucked into the waistband, he gives a gentle tug, pulling me even closer toward him. My lips part on a breath as he sinks slowly to his knees, his hands deftly taking my pants with him, until they’re sliding off my feet and I’m bared in front of him.
My hands find his hair, and I weave my fingers through it, trying to focus on anything other than the ache forming between my thighs. I squeeze them together, trying to get any relief, and the smirk that’s directed up at me a moment later tells me he noticed.
“Come on, princess,” he says, rising to his feet and stepping behind me. “Let me show you the view.”
I tilt my neck back and glare at him. “Stopcallingme that.”
Ignoring my irritation completely, he wraps both hands around my waist and walks me forward, leading me to the steps that disappear into the dark pool. The moment my foot breaks the surface, warmth flows through me, accompanied by an instant calm.
Magic.
The spring must have magic.
No wonder Weston would come here on nights he couldn’t sleep, when his mind was probably racing through all his worries and responsibilities for everyone on the ship. It’s as if all of my worries have disappeared as I sink farther into the water, and all my muscles relax.
Every surface of my skin tingles, and I let out a contented sigh. Weston must know the exact feelings washing over me, because I feel his front press into my back, as he wraps a muscular arm around me, his forearm brushing the undersides of my breasts as he holds me upright. My head lolls back into him and my eyes flutter closed, basking in the absolute tranquility that is this hidden cavern.
Weston walks us through the pool, our bodies sinking farther into the water as we get closer to the far side. My toes barely touch the floor, but his hold on me doesn’t let me go under, despite the laxity in my limbs. Years of flowing water cascading down the cliff below has smoothed the stone of the far wall. I rest my crossed arms on the surface and peer over the side.
“It’s amazing up here,” I say, as Weston wraps his arms around my waist and settles his chin on my shoulder. “I could stay up here all day.”
The beauty of the sea is remarkable, and the storm only adds to it. The dark clouds move across the sky, and lightning flashes, illuminating the dark billows then crashing in the air around us.
