“I’m pretty good at reading people, Cara.” He was looking at me with those molten gold eyes that seemed to look right through me. “And I can read that you deserve a lot more than you admit to yourself. You deserve the world.”
“Even if that’s true…” I felt a pang of resistance at the very thought. Not when I was failing Tay and Lidi; I didn’t deserve a thing. “How am I going togetthe world, Fieran? I’m a village girl who’s never even seen the Fae except for when they took her magic.”
Everyone else who was marked as a dragon shifter had been trained since childhood for their cause.
The shifters protected and saved the kingdom. We all but worshipped them.
But the shifters were also descended from the Fae, and I was heartbreakingly mortal despite the mark. I didn’t have their senses, strength, or ethereal beauty. I didn’t belong with them anymore than I ever felt like I belonged here.
For the first time, he slowly raised his hand, moving like he would to a spooked cat, and he touched my cheek tenderly. “I don’t think anyone took your magic, Cara. I think the parts of it that matter the most could never be taken away.”
I stared up at the shape of his lips, so close to mine. I’d kissed other men before, and yet this felt like the most intimate touch I’d ever had, with his hand on my face, my palm pressed against his big shoulder.
“I would offer you the world, if I could. But I think that you can take it for yourself.”
I swallowed. His words were nonsense, but they were such sweet, tempting nonsense. “You’ll be gone in a few days.”
And I’ll be better for it. I’ll stop wanting things I shouldn’t want…
He stroked his thumb across my cheek and leaned in as if he were going to kiss me. He touched me the way I had fantasized about being touched, before finding out how disappointing the village boys were.
“Try me, Cara. Tell me what you want.” As if he hoped that it would be him that I wanted.
Gods help me, Ididwant him.
Kissing the shifter…that was one thing I could have for myself. Galin had been unforgivably dickish tonight, but he wasn’t wrong. It didn’t matter if I walked home now or if I slid my hand up the hard planes of Fieran’s chest. It changed nothing for Lidi and Tay.
So I did, feeling the warmth and muscle beneath the softness of his shirt. His tunic smelled clean and fresh, like laundry soap and lemon peel. Beneath it was the warmer, pleasant note of his own skin, mixed with the smokiness that the shifters carried.
“So what is it you want?” he asked, his voice casual, but I felt his breath hitch under my palm.
Warmth spread through me. Unbelievable. This powerful shifter everyone wanted, and he responded that way tome?
“You.” The word came out on a giddy rush, embarrassing yet again. But it was hard enough to get the word out.
When his eyes lit in response, my sense of embarrassment faded.
He closed the distance like gravity pulled him to me. His mouth barely brushed mine, slow and reverent. His lips were warm, soft at first, then firmer, deeper as I tilted toward him.
I pressed closer, my fingers curling in the front of his shirt as if he’d vanish if I didn’t hold him there. He groaned, low and rough, and slid his hand into my hair, tilting my head to kiss me deeper.
No village boy had ever made me feel kissing me was sacred, as if my mouth was the answer to his every prayer.
I was breathing hard when the two of us both pulled apart just slightly. His deep golden eyes studied mine as if he were trying to make sure I was happy.
He’d bent so I could reach his lips, his body folded awkwardly down with my hand resting on his shoulder now, and I smiled against his mouth. “This cannot be comfortable for you.”
“I’m quite content,” he promised me.
“The bench?” I suggested, gesturing at the two benches that sat in the shadow of the building, looking out over the mountain.
He nodded but, to my surprise, suddenly swept me off my feet and into his arms. I let out a gasp and gripped his neck, and he didn’t waste any time, kissing me again as he carried me to the bench in a few long, quick strides.
I found myself settled in his lap. His mouth claimed mine again, rougher now. His hand slid to my waist and pulled me against him, our bodies fitting too well, too fast. I could feel the hard line of him through the thin fabric of my skirt—could feel his heartbeat thundering in sync with mine. I wanted to grind down on that hard length, and I shifted, spreading my thighs to either side to straddle his lap.
His eyes were filled with appreciation as he touched my cheek again.
“Where did you come from, Cara?” he whispered, his mouth moving against my temple. “It seems so strange that I could’ve never come to your village. Never had this moment.”
