Page 63 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“I’ve thought about this every night for a year,” he growls against my skin. “Dreamed of you. Woke up aching.”
My body feels like it’s catching fire from the inside out. Heat blooms across my skin, pooling low in my belly and between my thighs. I arch against him, shameless in my need.
“Fuck the rules,” I hiss, hooking a leg around his waist to pull him closer. “Fuck duty.”
His hand slides up my thigh, fingers digging into my flesh as he lifts me higher against the wall. The move brings him perfectly aligned with my center, and I have to swallow another gasp.
“Anyone could walk by,” he whispers, even as his hips rock against mine.
“Let them.” I grab his face between my hands, my gaze diving into his. “Who cares? I want you. Now.”
The recklessness of it thrills me. After a year of darkness and nothing, I need to feel everything—the danger, the passion, his hands on my skin. The thought of getting caught only sharpens my need to a knife’s edge.
Voices nearby.
Vaylen tenses, his breathing ragged against my neck. With visible effort, he pulls back, his hands gripping my shoulders to create space between us.
The voices move away.
After a moment, he says, “Not like this.”
“What?” I blink, my body still humming with need. “Don’t stop now.”
His eyes burn into mine, pupils blown wide with desire that matches my own. “You deserve better than being taken against a wall where anyone could walk by.”
“It doesn’t make a difference?—”
“It does.” His thumb traces my lower lip, the tenderness of the gesture at odds with the fierce hunger in his gaze. “What we have, it’s not something to hide in shadows and doorways. Yes, we need to be discreet, but I won’t have this reduced to hurried encounters in corners.”
I want to argue, to pull him back against me. My body screams for his touch, for completion.
“You’re a goddamn tease, Stormsong,” I growl, frustrated and still wanting.
He laughs, the sound rough. “Says the woman who walked right up and kissed me senseless.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.” I tug at his shirt, but he captures my wrists.
“I want more. So much more.” His voice drops to a whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “Time. Privacy. You,fullynaked. A proper bed where I can take my time with you.”
The images his words create make my knees weak.
“I’ll figure something out,” he promises. “Just like our cave in the mountains. Somewhere private.”
“When?” I demand, impatient as always.
His smile turns wicked. “Tomorrow night. And I’ll make you scream my name until your voice gives out.”
The promise in his words leaves me breathless. “You better deliver, High Prime.”
“Count on it, Skysinger Wyndward.” He steals one last kiss before slipping away into the darkness.
I watch his shadow disappear around the corner, my body still humming with unfulfilled want. Damn him and his noble intentions. I take deep breaths, willing my racing heart to slow.
Then, for no apparent reason, I remember the vision at the tavern. The stone table, Tahranis Flarebane, the chanters, the cloak. I should have told Vaylen about it. The thought sobers me somewhat. My personal wishes can’t matter more than understanding what happened to me during that missing year.
“Wyrm’s rot,” I mutter, pushing away from the wall. I consider chasing after him but think better of it. Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow before we meet for our... whatever it is he’s planning.
The barracks are mercifully quiet when I arrive, most of the bunks occupied by sleeping forms. Light from a single candle flickers at the far end where Phoebe sits up in her bed, a book open on her lap. She looks up as I enter, her eyebrows arching slightly at my disheveled appearance.
