He exhaled, like her words were a relief, then he picked up the fabric. “Good,” he said, “because last night I had another dream.”
He slipped the fabric over her eyes and tied it gently behind her head. The room went dark, the immediate panic of losing one of her senses sped up her heart. Stone was still on top of her, his hands holding hers. “Trust me.” His lips swept past her ear, then pressed into her neck.
“I do. I trust you.” The weight of the truth pressed down on her chest, laboring her breathing. She did trust Stone. More than she trusted most people. They’d exposed parts of themselves to each other the last few weeks that no one else had ever seen before. They’d been honest, faced death, found solace in each other’s arms and if there was anyone in the world she knew she could trust, it was him.
He let go of her hands and she gripped the sheets, back arching off the bed as his fingers drifted over her heightened skin, feather-light. Over her peaked nipple, down her stomach, between her legs. Barely there touches, alternating between his fingers and lips and tongue, that had her moving and sweating and ready for more.
He teased her right to the edge then moved away, never giving her exactly what she needed. With the blindfold, each touch was a surprise, each kiss from his lips, swipe of his tongue, pushing her closer to the edge.
He was back at her ear again, his body scorching and heavy on top of her. “It’s your turn to tell me what you want.” Another kiss to her pulse.
“Please,” she said.
He untied the blindfold, using it instead to tie her hands above her head. She squinted against the light, sunlight now filling theroom. She was pleased to see he looked just as worked up as she did, his cheeks flushed and eyes dilated, like touching her was all he needed. “Please just fuck me.”
He laughed, then kissed her forehead. “Such good manners,” he said, then slid into her, slowly, until she couldn’t take anymore, until they were both breathless, both waiting to move. Their eyes caught and she nodded, just once.
I trust you.
He rocked his hips, once, twice, and then they were moving in sync, sharing stolen breaths, bodies hot and aching for each other. There was no savoring it this time, they finished fast and hard, Stone’s face buried in her neck, Aesira’s legs wrapped around his hips, his name spilling from her lips. She had never felt like this before. Not just the sex but how she felt after. How she felt in his arms. Safe. Content. Like they’d done this a million times before, like they had the time to do it a million more.
Except they didn’t.
When he pulled away, he must have seen the worry on her face. He sighed, like he was thinking the same thing, and untied her wrists, taking the time to kiss the inside of each one.
“Are you sure they’ll see the ship?” She and Stone stood together on the bow while Birdie manned the wheel. The sun was blotted out by a rising sandstorm and the heat Aesira dreaded returning to was back. Her hair stuck to the nape of her neck, curling tightly at her temples.
“They’ll see it.” Stone stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her middle. “They’re trained just for this. We’re close enough to Vargah now they’ll know.” Through the growing storm, an angry fury of red dust, a hawk took shape. “There.” From his pocket Stone drew a small, gold whistle and blew it. The sound was nearly indetectable but the large bird spread its wings and dove for the ship.
The hawk was adorned with light chainmail, several small bells, and two delicate bracelets around its legs–one red and one purple–to signify Novaria and Vargah. “Fly fast, friend.” Aesira tied the scroll around the hawk’s leg and then it took flight, soaring through the sandstorm with ease. She and Stone set their goggles in place before the storm drew any closer. He pulled her hair back, twisting it into a braid as they watched the hawk, and Aesira’s message, disappear from view.
“The goggles suit you.” Stone tucked his finger under her chin and kissed her.You suit me, she wanted to say. He pulled the fabric mask from his pocket. “You’ll need this.” He tied it gently around her mouth. “Though I prefer how you wore it this morning.” He winked, then tied his own mask on.
How would she ever move on from this, she wondered. How would she ever move on from him?
Thirty-Four
Kamari
It was Naming Day. Which marked the end of the month.
Kamari’s time to find Desmond had run out. She hadn’t spoken to the council about her suspicions that Desmond was likely murdered. She didn’t trust them for a second, didn’t trust anyone.
Her grief and anger warred together, each one battling for dominance before she realized they were one and the same. Her griefwasher anger. Her husband was gone and they didn’t care, because they were the cause.
She clutched the note from Aesira in her dress pocket. Held onto it like it was something to be cherished.
More so, it was something toremain hidden.
They’d found Ravki.
Found something that would change the world, as Aesira put it.
But they had not found Desmond. Not even a single sign of him which, of course, didn’t surprise her since learning of his last journal entry.They didn’t find him, because he never made it out.
The stadium buzzed with nervousness and excitement. People were herded into their seats where they would await their fate. Sentries were stationed on every corner, ready to take the sacrifice to the arena, willing or not.
Kamari fanned herself, her cheeks flushed under the mid-afternoon sun. Hanna sat at her side, Nev and Rahashi in their usual places behind her. Her parents were there too, though they sat further down, the deep red of the Novarian colors a blemish in a sea of purple.
