Page 91 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
“See, I knew you could talk. The Knight Commander always has something to say. But I staked out this position first. And I know you’re well versed in strategic maneuvers.”
His eyes narrowed, their blue ice piercing her. “You’re a wicked vixen, but if you order me to lie here for a century, I will.”
“Good. Because I want this moment to last forever. I want it burned into us. I want to see your eyes needing and wanting and loving me, and I want you to see the same in mine. I want to memorize every touch and whisper between us.”
“This isn’t going to be our last time.”
“I know that. But it won’t be the last time we stumble either. And when we do, this moment will be engraved in us. We’ll remember. We can get past anything.”
She leaned down, her lips lightly grazing across his like a signature on a precious document.
The fire popped then, as if in agreement, and they laughed against each other’s lips. “Got it, Knight Commander?”
“Got it, Keats. And speaking of maneuvers—”
And with a flip that overtook her so fast she didn’t see how he did it, she was beneath him again. “Time for more games,” he whispered.
Somewhere along the way, Bristol had gained the upper position again, and Tyghan’s breath caught as she eased down between his legs, her mouth closing around him, squeezing, her tongue swirling, and his eyes clamped shut. His legs, his abdomen, every muscle in him tightened in response to her touch.Mercy, he thought, his groin burning as he searched for control. She slowed her movement, teasing him, drawing it out. Her taste and scent were still in his own mouth, assaulting his thoughts, and her moans undid him, his head lost, weak. But whatever glorious torture this was, he wasn’t ready to let loose, not yet. He reached down, guiding her up onto his chest, holding her in his arms, a hunger so deep inside him, he never wanted to let her go. His hand glided over the curve of her hip and he breathed in her hair, her skin. He burned for every part of her. He wanted to loose the throbbing inside him, but when he did, he wanted it to come loose inside her. To press deep into her until they both were lost to each other.
“I love you,” she whispered as her lips brushed his ear. Three quiet words, but they tumbled into him like something solid, something that held him together.
She gently ground against him, her breaths shivering. “Now,” she said. “Go into me, now.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. He rolled over her and slipped his hand behind her knee, lifting her thigh. She wrapped her legs around him, inviting him to go deep, and he did. He was hard, eager, and she was wet. He plunged to the root, filling her completely, and she gasped, but screamed her pleasure at the same time. He paused mid-thrust. “Easier?” he whispered.
“No, all of it,” she groaned, and her hips rocked up to meet his.
She was ripe, ready, and the sounds of her coming shot through him like fire. He felt her spasm around him, and he couldn’t see any more, his blood molten, every part of him pulsing and pushing and pulling her closer, until their screams were not his, or hers, but theirs.
They lay there for a long while, their hands entwined, soaking in each other, the moment, the crackle of the logs. Engraved. Bristol gazed at the small quarters, the rustic walls, the aged timbers, the fire that never stopped burning. The daughter of winter had built this room as a refuge in the middle of a blizzard. It had sheltered the first queen of Danu, and hundreds since then. Now it sheltered Bristol and Tyghan as they navigated their own storm.
They finally dressed because the world waited for them. Tyghan opened the door—they were going back the old-fashioned way—walking, so Bristol would know how to get there again if she chose to return.
Tyghan stopped in the threshold of the doorway, hesitating. “Before we leave, I have one last question. I need to know.” He gently swept back the hair from her neck. “Who did this to you?”
CHAPTER 67
For once, everything on Eris’s desk seemed to be in order. No messages to send, no meetings to call to order, no fires to stamp out. The trivialities had ceased to matter in these last days, so he had no squabbles to settle. Not even his own.
He and Dahlia mostly avoided each other, and that freed up time too. Evenings were spent at his desk now, instead of with her. She only seemed to grow angrier at his decision, digging in her heels that everything about their relationship had been just fine—that he was the one who had broken something that didn’t need fixing. She hadn’t actually said anything of consequence to him since he gathered his things from her room, but he knew all her ways, her silences, her glances, even the soft beat of her heart. But she didn’t know his.
He shuffled through a few parchments that needed to be filed into the archives, but they weren’t urgent. There was no rush—
There was a brief knock, and his door flew open. Tyghan walked in, disheveled, both in grooming and spirit. He was breathless, his hair uncombed. “Busy?” he asked.
“No. I—”
“Good. Was your offer in jest? I need a First Officer.”
Eris studied Tyghan. Clearly something had transpired since they talked earlier. “I never make offers I can’t deliver on. What happened?”
“Something else came up. Kasta is on limited duty until she can communicate all her responsibilities to you.”
“And after that?”
“She’ll be dismissed.”
Eris nodded, wondering what further offense Kasta had committed. Dismissal was at least better than the punishment that the council would inflict. “What about Melizan or Sloan stepping in?”
