Page 62 of The Crown of Moonlight
Idid that.My hands.My magic.
Too many thoughts crowd my mind at once: how it’s possible, what it means, whether it will last.
But I’m so, so tired of thinking.
I touch the healing skin with my fingertip in case it isn’t real.Chyr sucks in a shaking breath, and I like the power of knowing that I can bring out that reaction.My finger traces the wound lower.He shivers and places his hand over mine to still the movement.
The plaid is wrapped low around his hips, slipping below the sharp angle of his hipbones.Firelight catches on the hard ridges and the trail of gold hair that disappears beneath the wool.
Chyr is so tense that I feel it in his stillness, in the sudden release of the breath he’s been holding.
“There’s no point in keeping this bandaged.”I manage to sound calm.“But now that we can’t see beneath the skin, we can’t know how much the poison is spreading underneath.”
He takes hold of my hand as I step back.“Flora.”
I look up.
“You’ve done more than I asked,” he says.“More than I had any right to expect.”
His eyes are warm, his smile gentle.But I hear the words he isn’t saying, the reminder that all he asked of me was time.Weeks, not forever.
I don’t want to give myself to Ceapaich or Gleanngaradhor any other Domhnall man.I want Dunhaelic in my own right, and I want to keep my people safe.I’m no longer naïve enough to believe I can have any of those things.
I can’t trust Tirnaeve or the Siorai.I’m as certain of that now as I am that none of us can trust the Raven Queen.
But Chyr is honourable.I believe that.Despite the cold way he was raised, there’s warmth at his core, and the four harsh centuries he’s spent as a Rider haven’t exhausted the well of kindness in him.He feels the mistakes he makes, and he regrets them, and I’ve come to see that he’s harder on himself than anyone I’ve ever met.He’s shown loyalty in the way he refused to leave his friends after they died, the way he asked me to help him bury them.And the way he gave up one of the three Veilstone rings to take care of Dunhaelic and give me peace of mind…Even if I felt nothing for him, I would admire all of that.
I can’t lie to myself and say that I feel nothing.I feel too much.
My hands tremble, not from fear but from the hunger growing low within me.My life is not my own, and I don’t know what the future brings.Tonight, though, I can have a manIchoose.
Chyr shakes his head.“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like I want you?”
“Like you might let me have you.It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman, and I’m clinging to my last shred of self-control.”
“Then don’t.I want this as much as you do.”
Then his mouth is on mine, and the kiss is punishment and absolution.It’s fire.
His arm circles my waist until I’m arched against him.He catches my hair in his fist and pulls my head back, tracing the curve of my throat with his lips, his tongue.
Reaching between us, I tug at the plaid he has wrapped around his hips until that, too, slides to the floor.
“Flora?”Chyr’s voice is a growl, a whimper.
“If I have to marry someone, give myself to someone, then I want to have this first, with someone I’m attracted to, someone I want.Is that selfish?Is it unfair to ask you to give me that?”
“Not unfair.Unwise.”
“I’m tired of thinking about every step I take, worrying all the time.Whatever happens, whoever I have to marry, I’ll try to make the best of it, but I’d like to have something to remember.”
My chest heaves as his teeth nibble at my ear.
I reach up to wrap my forearms around his neck and bring his lips back down to mine.He untucks the fabric holding the plaid around my chest, and the wool falls to my hips, caught between our bodies.The calloused warmth of his hands moves from my shoulders across my breasts.His thumbs brush over my peaked nipples without stopping, without relief.He lifts each aching breast to meet his mouth, his tongue circling, teeth scraping.
I moan, my eyes unfocused, my breath ragged.
