Page 65 of Taste of Thorns
“Forever,” he repeats.
Something passes in the air between us. There’s no magic but the words we’ve just spoken seem stronger than a sacred promise.
Despite my efforts, a lone tear slides down my cheek. “Don’t do that again, okay? Don’t give me the cold shoulder like that. No matter how bad it gets or how hopeless it seems, don’t shut me out. It’s too painful, Thorne.”
“I’m sorry, Briony. I’m … I’m not used to this.”
“Me neither.” I wipe the tears away from my cheeks. “At least you’ve had friends – your bond brothers. I’ve had no one. This is all new to me too.”
“We’re probably going to mess it up occasionally then.”
“Probably,” I say. “I think that’s okay.”
He nods. “Briony, the lumomancy, can you do it now?”
I shuffle on my seat then take a deep inhale and lift my arm, holding my hand palm up to the ceiling.
Focused on Thorne’s face, I search for that sensation in my veins and beckon it outwards. It is easier than it was but I still have to let my gaze blur and my mind do the same. If I try toohard, I can’t quite find the sensation, it skips away. I have to beckon it but not too eagerly.
“Show me, Briony,” Thorne says, and as if responding to his invitation, my magic dances through my veins and a beam of light illuminates my palm.
“Beautiful,” Thorne says as we both watch the silent flickering light. “Don’t let it go.”
I nod and Thorne’s shadows slip from his gloved hands and slither toward my light.
I gasp because my light illuminates the flecks in his shadows and they sparkle brightly like a thousand diamonds. His shadows spin around my hand and as always I’m mesmerized by them. By the power and by the beauty.
“Thorne,” I whisper and his shadows creep closer and closer to the light. So close the distance is almost indistinguishable. “Touch me,” I say, but no sooner have I said the words than his shadows race away back to his hands.
I gasp again and the light in my hand goes out.
“I can’t,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You know I want to, Briony.”
“Me too,” I say. “I want you to touch me so badly.”
“You do …” His eyes turn hungry. “Where?”
Keeping my gaze locked with his, I untwist the knot at the front of my gown and slide the material open, letting it hang loose around me. I’m not wearing anything underneath and Thorne’s eyes leave my face and once again weave down my body, lingering at my breasts, hovering over the scars on my belly and loitering between my thighs.
“Everywhere,” I whisper, opening my thighs so he can see me more intimately.
“Bring back the light, little one,” he whispers, more hoarsely, “so I can see you more clearly.”
This time I find the light easily and it glows down on me, illuminating all of my skin.
“I want you to touch me here, Thorne,” I say, sliding my hand down my throat, imagining his soft lips pressed there. “And here.” I glide my hand over my clavicle and down to my breasts. His breathing hitches and I take a breast in my hand and squeeze.
“I want to place those nipples between my lips, I want to suck them into my mouth,” he groans.
“Uh huh,” I gasp, pinching my nipples between my fingers and feeling the skin wrinkle and stiffen.
“So pretty,” he murmurs.
“I wanna touch you too,” I whine as I massage my tits in both hands now. “I want to see you and I want to touch you.”
At my words, he lifts his arm over his head, takes a grip of the back of his collar and tugs his shirt off in one movement.
The light falls across him too, illuminating every groove and ridge of his muscular chest and the tight abdomens in his stomach. He glides his palm over his body and I whimper again, creeping my own hand down my body and reaching between my thighs.
